So I’m quietly sitting there, in the complete silence that is only found in places like this. My every shift and movement is magnified but since I’m not moving all that much, the deafening silence is the norm. And I’ll admit it, I’m casually browsing on my phone. If you say you don’t do that in here, I will call you a liar to your face, sir.
And then I hear it. The accursed door opens & I hear someone walk in. Damn. And the inner begging begins. “Please, not over here. Not by me. There are so many other options. Pleeeeeeeeeease.”
And where do you think she sits?
IN THE BATHROOM STALL DIRECTLY NEXT TO MINE.
Who are these people? Who walks into a bathroom with this layout:
and sits in the stall RIGHT next to the bathroom’s ONLY other occupant? Who goes into the bathroom looking for the support of a fellow human being? Honestly, if pooping is that difficult and emotionally trying for you, I really must insist that you seek medical attention.
Even more baffling to me is the fact that this is a regular occurrence at work. There are people who routinely decide that “we’re all in this together!” when they have to evacuate their bowels. The reason that mystifies me is that I’d think they would learn from past experiences that, unlike people I know (and you know who you are), I do not play Poop Chicken. I will not politely wait for you to finish your business so that I can begin mine. It doesn’t particularly concern me that you’re going to be subjected to a foulness that I’ve just authored ’cause guess what, buddy? YOU CHOSE THIS! So I’ll vindictively will my body to create the most awful environment EVER, just to punish you for having poor bathroom etiquette.
That’s a concept that gets ignored far too often. Not just bathroom etiquette (although close-poopers aren’t the only menace…I’m lookin’ at you, Women-Who-Hover-And-Refuse-To-Wipe-Up-Their-Tinkles!) No, I’m talking about etiquette in general. Particularly while driving. Oooooooh, how I despise driving on the interstate! Driving near semis sucks balls but that’s not even the worst part. The worst is someone I lovingly refer to as Mr. Jerkface.
Mr. Jerkface is VERY important. He has many, many pressing engagements and cannot be bothered with something as mundane as public safety. I imagine Mr. Jerkface likes to condescendingly chuckle at people while gesturing with his alcoholic beverage of choice and say things like, “Ha ha, you know it, Tiger!” and “Good job, Big Guy!” And then Mr. Jerkface climbs into his car and does this:
Why can’t Mr. Jerkface just wait until I pass?!? There’s absolutely no traffic behind me. I’m obviously advancing quickly in my lane; he won’t have the wait that Mr. Already-Dead-But-Forgot-To-Stop-Driving-Before-Dying is giving him. Just wait FIVE SECONDS and you can safely change lanes!
*grrrr* I can only hope that he chooses to sit next to me in the restroom someday.