I know we have emailed and transferred calls to each other. We’ve shared a good laugh at the size of the Styrofoam cups provided for the Keurig machine and speculated if the company has a deal with Staples to keep Green Mountain’s Wild Mountain Blueberry k-cups fully replenished. No one drinks Wild Mountain Blueberry.
We have a solid work relationship. Even though we are in competition for an additional 1.2% raise next quarter. We’ve reached that comfortable status: associates who get along like friends—but will not be hanging-out on weekends together—however, will agreeably carpool to happy hour with each other. As such good associates, I’ve noticed how you look down every row of cubicles and peek into every office as you pass them by. It’s been well observed that there is a nosey curiosity entwined in your DNA. Therefore, I understand that the quarter inch space along the stall door can be quite tempting. But this is the 21st Century and we are a civilized people. You have crossed the line.
As far as bathroom social etiquette goes, I thought nothing could be worse than Monica constantly jabbering on her blue tooth. Her private phone calls invariably place me in the bleak position of debating as to whether or not I should continue with my bathroom affairs out of respect to her callers. Over the past year, I’ve come to recognize the people she calls by their voices and consider them “friends of a friend.” And they should receive some sort of courtesy. Monica’s preferred phone booth is, of course, the handicap stall. Whether or not we want it, Monica brings everyone into the personal business of her daughter’s daycare schedule, her diabetic cat, and other family issues. The least Monica could do is allow someone the glorious privilege of access to the most spacious stall. And refusing to grant that, then maybe she should be a little more wiling to take advice from others during lunch break. She’s brought a lot of women in on her niece’s behavior problems and the contents of what your tabby hacked-up that morning. We are women. We like to give our opinion. Monica, you brought this on yourself.
Over time, I’ve become quite the expert on bathroom habits of my coworkers. And not all are as disgusting and invasive as you, Cindy. There are the competitive sorts. These few are very busy and rarely take the time to sympathize with their bladders. These executive whizzers are in and out of the bathroom with such a ferocious pace that a reply to a high importance email could barely been received. There are those who try to make it through the whole day in an attempt to only use their home toilet but just didn’t quite make it and expel an excited “AAHhhh…” around 4:42 pm. And let us not forget the multitude who go to the bathroom merely to stretch their legs and send a few text messages. I know all of these types. And I know who falls under which category based on her foot attire… which has also made me quite aware of who’s phone I should never ever EVER touch, no matter what cute puppy and baby picture is being shared.
I once thought the women who freely used the bathroom for all its intended plumbing design were simply the worst. There was a time I when I was so appalled by how selfish the coworkers with the gluten intolerances took command over the ladies’ bathroom. They produced sounds like amateur beat-boxers and odors that sent us all jumping off the docks like unsuspecting Parisians who crossed paths with Pepe Le Pew. This applied to the vegan in IT as well. Although, I learned my disgust was really just masked jealousy. While waiting for everyone to leave the bathroom, so my business could commence, I self-reflected. After all, I’m a multitasker by nature. It was during a moment of pinching tightly when I came to realize that it wasn’t disgust over those women who could be so free-wheeling in making their waste buckets, but rather envy that I was too ashamed to do the same. Why didn’t I have the chutzpah to let my freak flag fly? Throw caution to the wind? Get on with your bad self!
But you, Cindy, have gone much too far. Yours is a behavior of which I do not encourage nor wish I possessed. How can you possibly expect me to listen to your report, even though it slightly improves my chance for an additional 1.2% salary increase next quarter? I’m far too preoccupied by your deviant behavior. Did you have time to notice what I was doing in the bathroom when we locked eyes? Was I tidying-up or in the moment of expelling that awful Green Mountain Keurig coffee that we so besmirched earlier that week? Did you notice my undergarment and silently ridicule it …or un-silently ridicule it to other employees? Do I wear the Wild Mountain Blueberry of underwear? Did you just say “terrible Keurig coffee” or am I hearing things? Wait, what was on that last PowerPoint slide? It was a blueberry, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?!?! Great, the peeing-peeping Tom has made a mockery of me. This presentation is very good. But maybe the presentation began behind the closed door to the women’s rest room. Enjoy your sixteen cent raise. The victory is yours, Cindy.