Last week I spent about an hour in one of the company bathrooms. I had to decompress (pregnancy causes insanity), so I picked a generally out of the way, rarely used bathroom on the 1st floor. Its in a sketchy hallway (yes, they do exist) so no one goes there. In the hour I was there, maybe 5 ladies came in. Pretty good. One of these ladies, however, tried to show me down.
I dont know how it works in the men’s room, but in the lady’s room everyone has to use a stall. There’s no getting around it. If you walk in there, you’re gonna be taking off your pants and sitting down. We generally try to space ourselves out for our own personal space. Lets figure we have five stalls in the bathroom. If someone’s using the seat all the way on one side, you pick the one on the opposite side. Someone can enter the middle stall if it gets 3 large, and we all still have a stall between us. If its rush hour (lunch time), you can imagine some backups in the bathroom, and our personal space goes out the window.
So I’m in there. Minding my own business. Trying to stop hyperventilating over something really fucking stupid. In walks a chick. I’m using the stall all the way in the corner, at one end of the bathroom. There are 4 other stalls to use. Which one does the chick pick? The one directly next to mine.
This is what I mean by showdown.
She sits, pees, and then chills. Usually when someone does that, they try to psych you out with the “will they wont they poop” deal. I’d already had it in my head that unless this woman had eaten her weight in post sale date Hormel, there was no way I was leaving my stall. So we sat there. She and I. For 20 minutes. No one else came into the bathroom the entire time.
She was dead silent and wouldnt move. I, on the other hand, shifted, coughed, jingled my lanyard (that sounds dirty), and continued to enjoy the fact that I wasnt at my desk having an panic attack. After 20 unholy minutes, this sack of ass decided to change her pad and leave. As quick as that. No incriminating plops. No strange smells. No sobs of saddness. She was either terrified to change her damn pad with another woman in the bathroom, or she was trying to out-wait me. And that wasnt possible.
After she left, I felt victorious. I’d won! It was MY BATHROOM and no one was going to wrench it from my fat, stubbly fingers. That surge of dominance alone helped me get over whatever the hell had sent me to my refuge in the first place. It was awesome. Some 10 minutes later, I skipped back to my office with a smile on my face.
Another bathroom showdown… won!
Just another note about bathrooms… a bathroom is a place to sit and expel bodily fluids. Its not a place to hit up a co-worker for job opportunities for your slacker ass husband. Especially not when someone else who isnt a party to the conversation is sitting there trying to ignore the world around them. Uncool.