It gets better: it was in the “handicapped” washroom - the only one with a lock and space to stretch out – and, due to the vagaries of the building’s plumbing, the one that regularly backed up and completely flooded the room and hall with stinky effluent.
I’ve always read it “Mountain G-man.”
Oh, I’ve heard to those paper towels! The ultra-high-tech ones that, with just a single thin layer, shield you from all the excreta-borne pathogens, toxic cleaning supplies and other grime on the average public bathroom floor? Hmm…no, wait. I haven’t heard of any such paper towels. And until I do, your co-worker is nasty as all hell.
So were these bathroom, sex or eating noises?
Unless you heard some moaning (in which case I’d hang up even before the “OKthanksgbye”), I’m hoping he was doing some type of treadmill exercise. . . alone.
“Grizzly Bauer, Mountain G-Man.”
Coming this fall on NBC!
Clearly, you have never seen my ass.
“The goggles, they do nothing!”
Then you would be damned uncomfortable in some ladies’ rooms. I have been having conversations with friends from stall to stall, and had other women we didn’t know join in! 
My cell phone is for my convenience, not other people’s. I answer it only when I choose to, and never when I’m in the bathroom.
I’m one of those truly bizarro women who won’t converse stall-to-stall. A co-worker who had seen me enter a stall shortly after she entered the bathroom tried to ask me a question while we were both in our respective stalls doing our business. I shot out a quick, “Hang on…with you in a sec when I’m done.”
She teased me afterwards for being bathroom-shy. Well, yeah. I take care of my business in private and don’t like to have conversations while I’m in the can. I call her potty-talker and she calls me bathroom shy.