Last year I identified a workplace poop toilet for myself. It’s in the next building over. It’s a single toilet. A men’s toilet. It’s outside a large office in which only women work. So this toilet is always unused. Always clean. Always private. If I (rarely ever) need to poop at work, this is where I go.
Today I was on my way and a work acquaintance intercepted me. Every turn I took, he seemed to be going the same way and was telling me about his mother’s fractured hip along the way. I had to walk twice as far beyond where I intended and finally shook him with a bogus excuse for needing to go to some unrelated department; and then had to check around corners while I double back.
I’ve made it though. Just wanted to update you all about this while I’m on the throne.
Meanwhile I’m stuck in a men’s room with stalls that have seams between the doors that are wide enough to push a finger through and they’re open at the bottom for at least a foot. Everyone can just watch you sitting there taking a dump. I like my privacy in those moments.
Of course I won’t sit on those things either as they’re always pissed and shat under; people have a lot of trouble aiming, I guess. Or cleaning up after themselves
Half the time someone tried flushing down ten sheets of hand towels, which obviously doesn’t work so just about every other day at least one of two stalls (that serve up to three floors) are stuck
This building sucks balls