Feelin' lucky, punk?

Growing up with two older brothers, I’ve always been exposed to various interpretations of bathroom etiquette. Unfortunately, as the youngest of three and the only girl, ‘majority ruled.’  More often than not, my half-hazed, mid-dream runs to the bathroom usually resulted in my butt touching the bottom of the bowl, soon followed by a muffled yelp and immediate plotting of revenge.  For them, the decorative sign my mother hung on the wall that read, “If we were meant to sit in cold water, we would have been born with webbed feet,” was clearly placed there as easy reading material while they did their business.  But for me, that poor cartoon duck sitting in the toilet with a red and white lifesaver hugging its torso served as a warning; one which I often needed refreshed.

As far as using public lavatories (on road trips to Syracuse, at baseball games, malls, etc), I learned some very specific rules when my mom and I would head to the ladies room, including, but not limited to:

- Always flush with your foot
- Always put paper on the seat before sitting
       - Always carry paper with you in case there’s none in the stall.
- Always breathe through your mouth
- Always wash your hands
- Get in and out as fast as you possibly can

Now, in addition to whatever rules people practice on their own, when it comes to the sort of ‘public’ facility used on a regular basis, such as at work or school, there’s definitely an unspoken etiquette that most seem to understand. 

For instance, my office is on the 8th floor (penthouse.. “Had to be the top, right?…” “It’s the best!”).  There are 6 elevators in the middle of the building with a long hallway stretching on either side, company doors branching out as necessary.  To use the restrooms, we must exit our office, a door just outside the elevator landing, and head down either hallway to find the bathroom at the end of each wing.

Working here almost 5 years, I’ve learned what times are appropriate for #1 and #2 and what times to avoid going altogether. The office across the hall has been vacant for some time so I’ve gotten used to the 10 women I share a bathroom with throughout the course of a day. Sadly, as of April, some new neighbors moved in (15 or more additional ‘ladies’) who apparently don’t know the rules, which I assumed were universal. I don’t think it needs to be said that what’s acceptable at home isn’t necessarily going to fly with your bathroom mates at work. 

It is a widely known fact that whoever gets to an empty bathroom first, trumps whomever enters afterwards. In other words, if you find the time in your day to escape to the bathroom for upwards of 5 minutes, and someone enters 30 seconds in, you have the authority to wait until your ‘competition’ (for lack of a better word) is finished and departs before you continue your business.  Conversely, if you enter to find an occupied stall, you must concede, going as fast as you can, ignoring the subtle shuffling of feet to distract from what’s actually going on a mere foot and a half away, and exit so that your predecessor may complete her ‘transaction’ in peace.

Nothing irks me more than a competitor who enters a silent bathroom while I’m waiting for my ‘turn’ and initiates The Showdown.  Don’t you know the rules? I was here first, Miss Kitten Heels.  I WILL make the first move, and you don’t want to meet my version of Dirty Harry when the occasion arises. Again, with two older brothers, 50% of my shame (for gas and other unpleasantries) went out the window at age 5, but since a half-inch thick wall separates me from a potential co-worker, I like to keep my business private, as in, in an empty bathroom (or my very own cubicle, with a spray of perfume immediately following). But if you make me, I will be happy to throw my remaining shame out the window to get you to finish your business and come back later. Just remember- everyone loves their own scent. 

Secondly, for those who find it absolutely necessary to brush your teeth after EVERY bite of food you consume, I’d like to kindly remind you to please run some water over that half chewed piece of popcorn stuck to the side of the sink; yes, the one you spit out with that huge glob of fluorescent green toothpaste.  Clearly, we see your oral hygiene is intact, but that doesn’t excuse you from leaving your left-overs all over our otherwise spotless facilities.  I’d hate to see what your bathroom looks like …ick.

Talking on your cell phone while sitting on the bowl? Don’t tell me they can’t hear the echo off the tile walls.  Again, at home, when done with skill and precision, you may even get a flush in without the other end being any wiser.  But at work? With other people in the room? Honestly, what is so pressing you can't wait another 90 seconds?!

Similarly, striking up conversation while doing your business… this is touch and go, especially if we’re combining it with the showdown from above.  #1) You’re distracting me from the mission at hand.  #2) See #1. #3) ANY conversation should be kept to the niceties. i.e. – “Wish this day would end already…” … “God I hate meetings this long…” … “It’s supposed to be sunny all weekend… should be nice.”  Try to avoid questions requiring developed responses. Remember: this is ME time.  Shutting up is preferable, at least until I’m at the sink.

Lord only knows what the men’s room etiquette is like, but I will say I know WAY too much about a certain co-worker’s BMs as he brings the daily newspaper and/or work documents to the bathroom each morning at exactly 0800.  Honestly, did you think we didn’t notice your hands were full? And… more importantly, do you think I want to review that document after you’ve smoked it in your latest creation?  I think not.

I guess in closing, I’d like to say that even after growing up with two 6’4”, pube-ridden animals, I still managed to retain some sort of public decency when it comes to using the facilities. Even now, living alone, I clean up after myself to avoid scraping week-old encrusted toothpaste from the sink in the off chance someone decides to stop over unexpectedly. How is it that I’ve managed to become a well-mannered member of Generation Y while women from the era of books entitled ‘How to be a Lady’ and articles like ‘The Good Wife’s Guide’ think leaving their spittle all over a public restroom (with marble counter tops, I might add) is anywhere NEAR acceptable?

Perhaps I should print out that article and leave it anonymously in the bathroom as a reminder… although I’m sure some sweet lady in kitten heels with toothpaste in the corners of her mouth will bring it in the stall with her and delay me from completing my mission. Whomp.