I have a friend who cannot physically poo anywhere other than in her own home. As a person with a very active bowel, I never understood how she could physically do this – but more so I found this to be a strange thing to have a phobia about. I mean, sure avoid those public toilets that smell like a thousand farts and look like they contain every disease under the sun, but at the office? C’mon, they are cleaned by professionals and only receive the shits of a small group of professional business people.
How wrong I was. What I didn’t understand is that I had been sheltered in jobs at small government agencies for over a decade with a very good bum to bowl ratio. It was a year ago when I moved to the big city to work in a big corporate that I realised office toilets are probably the grossest things I’ve ever experienced.
Now, I love a good poo story as much as the next person. In fact, I love poo stories a little more than I probably should – I mean, I’m not into scat or anything bizarre like that. I just find them funny. But at this company, every day was like a cacophony of diarrhoea explosions, heaving old guys, farts that reverberate from the porcelain bowls, skid marks dotting the sides of the bog, and a stink that was sometimes so bad it made me sick in my mouth. Literally.
There were the times (and there were many) that you’d be sitting in a cubical, and you’d hear the squeaking of the toilet seat next door indicating the gentleman next to me had finished expelling the terrible nasty from his arse. I’d then wait for the imminent rustle of the toilet paper…waiting…waiting…nope, there goes the zip and the buckle. No wipe. The dude literally is going to walk around the office all day with the remnants of the terrible awful clinging to his arse hairs. A recipe for dangle berries.
And do you think that is as bad as it gets? Nope. Take the aforementioned scenario and add on this little gem. I’m in my stall and the gentleman next door has now exited the stall and I’m now waiting for the familiar noise of the automatic tap to start, followed by the automatic soap dispenser and the automatic paper towel dispenser. I hear none of these, just the gentle squeak of the door as it opens and closes. No hand wash. Everything is literally automatic – all he had to do is rub some soap and water on his filthy shit stained hands, but even that was too much of an effort. After this first happened, I never used the communal coffee spoon in the kitchen again.
This lazy toilet etiquette that isn’t observed in corporate bogs is relating to the toilet seat. It’s a very clever device – when you need to shit (or take a she-wee), you put the seat down. When you need to do a stand up wee, you put the seat up. So beautifully simple. However, there are certain gentlemen in the corporate office who want to do their number one’s in the stall (we call this ‘shy guy’). This is acceptable. What isn’t acceptable, is that there is a large percentage of ‘shy guys’ who haven’t quite figured out that the toilet seat is a dynamic piece of equipment and try to piss down the hole while the seat is still down. The result of this arrangement is that the next person in the stall has to wipe the smelly yellow globs of the pervious person’s piss off the seat and then sit on the same surface. Then walk around the rest of the day with anonymous wee particles on their thighs.
Another thing that’s gross about corporate toilets, is that people like to talk to you while you’re in there. This is a no-no. Toilet time is me time and I feel uncomfortable talking to you while we both have our dicks out. I’ve always been taught to keep my head parallel to the ceiling, face front, two shakes and then leave. I don’t care that you went to Coromandel on the weekend, and I don’t want to talk about that ‘big project’ we’re all working on – I want to take a slash and leave. Shut up. Save it for the water cooler.
The last gross thing about corporate toilets is that guys take phone calls while they’re taking a shit. I’m sitting there in the relative peace and quiet of the men’s room when I hear a familiar iPhone ring tone. Surely he’s going to push the button on the side and silence the call…”Hello?…Hey mate, how’s it going?….” He’s taken the call and is discussing a work matter while dark matter is exiting his rear end. Not cool. I’ve decided it’s okay to text, update your social media and email while you shit, but phone calls are a no-no. Not because of hygiene reasons, but because I believe that listening to someone take a work call while you’re shitting gives you stage fright. I’m busy and I haven’t got time to coerce last night’s roast out.
So with all of this in mind, here are my handy tips for corporate men’s room users:
- Always wipe – and I recommend at least twice. You can fold or scrunch, I don’t give a damn. Two wipe minimum. This will ensure all of the fudge is in the bowl and not forming brown stalactites on your bum pubes.
- Wash your hands. It’s not hard people – the invention of the liquid soap and the freely available paper towels make it a quick and painless process. Gone are the days of the sloppy soap cake and the inefficient air towels.
- Use the seat function that is applicable to the nature of your stall visit. If you happen to leave a wee blob or a stray bum pube on the seat – do the right thing and wipe it off with some loo paper and flush it. Some flasher toilets even supply seat sanitiser!
- Talking in the toilet is a no-no. Give a friendly smile, a nod…but don’t talk. This includes on the phone and in person. Keeping your trap shut will expedite the whole process and make the workplace much more productive.
In short – men’s rooms in the corporate environment are the grossest things that have even been invented. Even the guy in the office with the sharpest suit probably has the shittiest arse and the rankest hands. Beware the corporate shitter.
– Matt