I know this is not uncommon, but I don’t want to be around anyone else when I’m on the toilet and making a major transaction. At home it’s not a problem, obviously. But it can be an issue otherwise.
This has been true as far back as I can remember. When I was a co-op student back in the late 80s, I discovered a rarely-used bathroom in a remote corner of the complex I worked in. It was about a five minute walk, but that’s where I would go in lieu of the bathroom right next to our lab.
In the complex I work in now, there is a locker room that very few people use. (I use it on a routine basis after my lunchtime workouts.) There is one private stall in the locker room, and it’s my go-to place in the morning after my third cup of coffee.
I like to have privacy when pooping, but I’ve gotten better about being able to do it in public bathrooms. If there are a bunch of strangers in the bathroom, I figure they probably won’t be able to figure out which individual person is doing the pooping, and won’t remember the one random stranger who pooped in the bathroom that one time. I’d be much more embarrassed if I found myself in a situation where I was in a bathroom with friends and had to poop.
That said, I HATE when people try to have conversations with you through the bathroom door. I’m in here for privacy! Go away! I had to make my mom stop that when we shared a house for a few years. I don’t want conversation unless the place is on fire.
I can’t stand the customers at work who take phone calls while sitting on the john. For heaven’s sake, you can’t take five minutes away from your phone to answer nature’s call? The whole social underpinning of men’s room is the shared pretense that there’s no one else in there with you; listen to a dude talk about how much drywall he needs for the Peterson job shatters the illusion. It’s manlaw - you don’t talk in the men’s room, dammit!
I went to boot camp at Fort Knox in the 60’s. In the barracks, there were a bunch of poopers all gathered together. No stalls, no doors, nada. It was a huge adjustment!
As the trusted employee in charge of the Key Control program, I confess that I abused the privilege by using the executive washroom, almost daily. The boss was never in the building about 80% of the time.
I used to care about this and would walk down four flights of stairs in the office building to go to a single-stall room where the outer door was also to be bolted by the occupant.
But then I just stopped. Sometime around my 40th birthday I think - I just decided and accepted that nobody should really need to be embarrassed about the noise and/or smell that accompanies defecation. I’m not saying I enjoy hearing/smelling it when it’s in the stall next to me, but I just accept that it’s reality.
I close and lock the door behind me when I’m home. Even when I’m home alone. Adulthood has mostly meant that I get to use an ensuite bathroom, which means I can close and lock two doors behind me. Joy.
I blame early childhood and over-attentive potty training. My mother would still open the door to ask me if I was “all right” when I was eight years old. That was when I started to lock it.
In need, I do fine either way. But am happy that where I work there are private locking bathrooms. Not stalls. But a bathroom to yourself with a full on locking door. Down the hall, in an ‘alcove’ about 150 feet from my desk. There are two of them actually, used by ~ about a dozen people.
This is a big reason why so many able-bodied people use the handicap bathroom stall when there is a non-handicap accessible stall available. There will be one person using the first stall, no one in the middle stall, then the handicap stall. Since no one wants to take a shit while sitting next to someone else doing to the same, they take the nice, roomy stall at the very end. Then I come in, staring at the empty toilet I cannot use.
I remember being somewhat shocked by the sight of the head in Navy boot camp. In my brief 20 years on the planet, I’d never had to use a gang head. I guess it was supposed to discourage wanking.
Eh. When I gotta go, I go in the nearest facility. If that’s at Target, so be it. I courtesy flush and am done in under a minute anyway, it’s not worth scouting out more privacy. I am grateful that at both jobs the bathrooms are full rooms with sinks, but thats for female reasons.
That said, I don’t really have a problem pushing 'em out when there are people in the restroom. What I hate are the guys who seem to think the restroom is some kind of conversation pit. Five-minute conversations about sports, while both are just standing in the sink area.
I obey the Elijah Baley Rule. I wish everyone else did, too.
Privacy is much more important after a spicy meal when you’re subject to the Michael Bay Rule.
Whoa. You can get super simple doors from Lowes for $25. Add in another ten to fifteen for some hardware and you’re all set. Even if you’re in a landlord situation you can do it with minimal impact. Post to GQ and you’ll get lots of great advice on how to do it easily and inexpensively!
I’ve said it before here … One of the things I enjoyed about life in the field with the Army was taking a dump on a big wooden box over a pit out in the open in camp with dozens of [del]folks[/de] guys (this was pre-women-in-combat) walking by & the wind ruffling what little hair we had. A dump outdoors is sooo much nicer than sitting in some stanky closet. And seeing your pals getting breakfast at the same time just adds to the ambience.
I try to avoid doing it when I”m at work. I guess I don’t want people to know what I’m doing in there.
Our bathrooms are private with locking doors, and unfortunately, the men’s room is across from my desk (there’s a thin wall separating the two).
Anyway—when the other guys goes in there to take a dump, I hear everything. And one guy has gastrointestinal issues, so the sounds are not very pleasant. Besides the splashing, the rumblings, explosions, etc., I can also hear the person grunting and groaning.
Sometimes I have to get up from my desk and walk away for a few minutes.
And afterwards the bathroom stinks to high heaven. There is a fan, but this guy barely turns it on. Nor does he spray the air freshner that we have in there.
And of course, the toilet bowl has all the streaks and clumps sticking to it.
No door. Wtf? We hung curtains for the illusion of privacy.