Background: My office is across the hall from the bathroom. It is a single bathroom, for employees and patients.
Now, the rant.
I saw you come out of the bathroom. I saw you stand outside in the hallway, talking to someone else. I don’t know your name, or anything about you except the fact that you work here.
When you go to the bathroom, please flush the frickin toilet. Especially when you have some sort of gastric interference like you have now. While it was rewarding for me to run back out of the bathroom after you, screaming “Oh Christ! The smell! THE SMELL!”, it is probably not good office behavior. The look on your face was priceless, but my nasal passages are still suffering.
I don’t care if you have to flush the toilet two, maybe three times. Just flush, for cryin’ out loud!
And if you have serious diarrhea, as you obviously had, please at least attempt to sound like you are washing your hands afterwards. I know you didn’t, because the bathroom tends to reverberate with the sounds of the sink and the paper towel dispenser. We work in a hospital environment, for pete’s sake, and walking out of the bathroom without washing your hands is like going into surgery with dirty gloves on.
I don’t really know or care if it comes down to the fact that you have an irrational fear of flushing the toilet. What you left in that bathroom should never have been viewed or smelled by another human being, much less a co-worker who has to see you every day or a potential patient who may have to see you. And it all could have been avoided with a simple flush.
You disgust me more than any other human being alive.
Oh my gawd! I’ve been known to linger for flush after flush to make sure every molecule of what I left behind is gone… I’d be MORTIFIED if anyone saw my poop! That is so gross. And people who don’t wash their hands after going to the bathroom don’t deserve to have hands.
I, too, will hang out to make sure it all goes away.
I kicked the flush mechanism, but I am still scared to go in there. And I’ve seen her walk past my office several times in the past half hour. I think she wants to say something to me about it, and if she does, I think I may give her a copy of this rant.
You should have seen the look on her face when I came out of the bathroom hollering at her. I still feel the stench-cloud around me.
Uggh… Everytime someone says hooks for hands, I think of that webpage with the girl who wanted hooks for hands…That sickened me almost as much as the unwashed-hands girl!
While we’re on the subject of bathroom etiquette …
Hey, boss, don’t follow me into the bathroom, stand outside the stall, and continue to discuss work with me while I drop trou and begin my business. I’m a fairly private person, so perhaps my sensibilities are a little on the overwrought side, but I just don’t like discussing work (or even talking to other people) while I’m shooting excrement out of my bunghole. Call me crazy.
And hey, if I can’t get you to stop talking to me while I’m thusly occupied, maybe I can convince you not to complain about the foul stench while you’re standing outside the stall discussing work. Here’s a thought: If the smell bothers you, leave the bathroom, okay? I promise that the noxious odors won’t follow me back to my office, and we can continue the oh-so-important work conversation in a fragrance-free environment.
A subject I know all too well, unfortunaley. I used to be a busser and one of my jobs was to clean the bathrooms. Both employee and customer. The employee bathrooms were always 10+ worse than customers bathrooms. At least you didn’t know the guy who made the “mess”. Someone I went to school with left me a little present in the toilet once. I don’t think she made any attempt to flush it.
UGH. The first full-time job I had after college involved a boss that wasn’t physically present in the office, but if she called any time in the morning when the paper was on deadline, she expected to speak with you NOW, no matter where you happened to be. Including the crapper. Which meant some unfortunate coworker had to go get you, apologize for interrupting you, and tell you that Joan wanted to speak with you RIGHT NOW.
Uh huh.
I shudder to think what things must be like there now, with the advent of wireless communication …
Um… I can’t use a public restroom for #2 if anyone else is in the room. Period. I’ve caused myself serious pain as a result of holding it because I’ve not been able to find a private enough place to do my doodie.
I’ve got the weirdest co-worker. I don’t know which one it is, but he’s so germophobic that he not only has to use a seat cover, but he won’t even flush it. It’s always balled up behind the door. What could make someone do that? Being teased about cooties as a kid?
Everyone knows that the main difference between the sexes is that women are embarrassed to fart in a public restroom, while men on the other hand see it as yet another thing to compete at. I’ve noticed in my office that I can be as far as ten feet from the men’s room door (closed), and still hear the distinct echo of a fart. I’m tempted to ask the people who sit near the men’s room how many times a day they hear that.