I feel somewhat cheated. For as long as I can remember, it has been a convention in TV and the movies, yet real life has apparently failed to meet one expectation that I feel was unfairly set for me. What might that expectation be? Well, the awarding of a key to the executive washroom upon being promoted to that lofty level, of course.
It seems like a small thing. For most people, it probably would be less valued than, say, a reserved parking spot. But not for me; No, for me the opportunity to rise above the riff-raff that typically inhabits the public restroom was the ultimate reward for success? Why? Well, I'll just have to come out and say it bluntly: men are pigs. Not to put too fine of a line on it, but the sounds, smells, and general ambiance of the typical public men's room is not conducive to a relaxed, restful visit. And, as an IT Director, I need to find relaxation when and where I can.
As if it wasn't bad enough already, we also had to contend with The Mystery Pooper. Allow me to set the stage: as a result of living almost directly on the opposite side of the city from where I work, and given that I am pathologically compelled to avoid any traffic at all, much less rush-hour traffic, I have through the years cultivated the ability to wake up at 4:45 am, sans alarm clock or any other time keeping device. This results in my being the first person to the office building that houses the company that I work for. An additional benefit of arriving so early is that I typically have the restroom to myself for an hour or so, should the need arise. Which it nearly always does.
Odd, then, that at least once a week I would go in there only to find that someone else had used my favorite stall (third on the right, if you must know) and had failed to flush the resulting obscene mess. When I first encountered this, I wrote it off to carelessness. Through time and repetition, however, I came to believe that this was a deliberately anti-social behavior. I also came to realize that this was being done by someone that gets to the office building even earlier than I do. There were clues pointing to this, the most obvious of which was that the other three stalls where in the sanitary, pristine condition that indicated that they had not been used since their middle-of-the-night cleaning. Plus, the seats in those three stalls were all up, and we all know that men never leave the seat up. Well, married men, anyway, what with the years of nagging that they have endured on that very practice.
If it was any other stall I would have just let it go, but this was my stall - the mystery would have to be solved.
One fine day, I went in to use my stall (spiffy and clean, this time) and on the way out I was surprised by seeing another of the building's tenants entering the bathroom as I was leaving. I recognized him, having seen him around the building now and then. I wondered if....
Back in our suite, I decided I would perform a little stake out. One of our conference rooms has a window that looks out in the general direction of the restroom door. If I were to stand off to the side, I would be able to see when the other guy came out. It was the perfect plan, except for one little thing:
As it turned out, not only could I see him emerge from the restroom, he could see me watching. Our eyes met across the intervening space - there could be no doubt that he saw me standing there watching through the window.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured. It was time to check the evidence. I waited for him disappear down the hallway before going back into the bathroom to check. And there it was! The same big, messy pile of crap (literally) in my stall.
The mystery was solved, but what precisely could I do about it? I've seen the guy's car; it has Vietnam Veteran license plates. That may mean nothing, but it also may mean everything. I did not want to approach this guy about his odd behavior.
Fortunately, I haven't needed to. Proving almost beyond doubt that there was no accident here and this was a deliberate behavior, it hasn't happened again since that day when our eyes met and his secret was uncovered.
Which is nice, but at the end of the day? Men are still pigs, and I still want my key to the executive washroom.
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