Bathroom, Occupied!

17 Nov

I hate, hate, hate, going poo in a public restroom. I would rather hold it until my internal organs burst than go in a public restroom. But sometimes you have to make tough choices…choices only Rambo and the President of the United States could make…and I made the choice to use the restroom at work.

At the time of my need, I had three bathrooms to choice from:

1) A very nice luxury 6 stall model with accompanying urinals and sinks. It’s usually clean, and accessible to multiple locations and offices throughout the company.

2) A small 1 stall, 1 urinal in my particular location that usually only the people that work there and the janitors know about. Using this one would alert everyone to what I was doing. This option is off the table. (*No one knows I poop, I’m sure of it.)

3) A second 1 stall, 1 urinal located around the corner that mostly the photo department uses. It’s spacious but a gamble. Sometimes it’s very busy and sometimes it’s very private. It’s the closest option.

I rolled the dice and chose number 3. (I should have picked number 1.)

The first thing I do, after locking the door, is to build my toilet seat cover nest. This consists of about 22 of those paper thin toilet seat covers carefully placed on the toilet without me actually touching the toilet top, bottom, or sides at any point. The trickiest part of the construction process is to build the nest without tripping the all-knowing, all-seeing automatic flush eye. That thing is like the Lord of The Rings eye, it’s watching your every move, waiting for you to enter it’s borders and then….flush! The Toddler is deathly afraid of the automatic flushing toilet. I’m not sure if she thinks she might get sucked down the hole or if the high powered noise of the flush scares her. It scares me a little too. Why does it have to flush so forcefully? What were the Engineers of the Auto Flush toilet anticipating?

Engineer 1: How much ffps (Flush Force Per Second) should we amp this sucker up?

Engineer 2: Enough to flush an alligator down baby!

Engineer 3: It isn’t high enough unless some butt check flesh is sucked down as well!

Engineer 4: What time do we go on break?

I hate when I  have carefully and painstakingly built  my nest, only to lose it when I turn around and pull down my pants.


Then I just hang my head in defeat, with my pants around my ankles. Now I have to rebuild, only this time it will be faster, stronger, and cost roughly about 6 million dollars. (I loved that show as a kid…bionic man if you were too young to know what I was referencing.)

So I get my nest built and successful land my bare butt on it without a premature flush. I have my phone in hand to Facebook and/or Tumblr and/or Twittter and/or Email depending on how much time this business may take, when I get a knock on the door. Then a jiggle of the locked handle. Then a voice says,

“Anyone in there?”

Well, of course someone is in here. The door is locked. Do you think the door locked itself? I shouldn’t have to answer. Locked door means occupied, right?

The handle jiggles again.

I want privacy. I didn’t want to do this at work in the first place. I would rather be at home with my fishy shower curtain, and my furry bathmat, and my magazine rack. Just find another restroom please.

A knock on the door again. A different voice asks,

“Anyone in there?”

“Occupied!” I say frustrated.

On the other side of the door I hear, “Well at least you got an answer.”

The answer is the door is locked!

I hear the two unknown bathroom would-be intruders mumbling on the other side of the door.

I finish my business, now feeling rushed.  I decide though to sit and wait, like a toilet ninja, in hopes that the two occupied-bathroom scientists have given up on my territory claim  and start a  grid search for a new bathroom to use.

Guess what?

They are out there still discussing how long before they can use the bathroom.

“Please go use another bathroom,” I whisper to myself, but I know that is not going to happen.

So I stand up. The laser eye does it’s job, and starts flushing the toilet. I hold onto the handicapped rails to make sure it doesn’t suck me in as well. The two idiots outside the door are going to hear the flush, thus giving them the signal to start tearing down the pup tent and bonfire they were building while waiting for me to finish. I start to kick whatever part of the toilet seat cover nest that didn’t travel with the initial flush into the toilet. I also do the appropriate amount of wiping and flushing until all is neat and tidy back there. I can picture the two on the other side of the door, staring at each other, like kids on Christmas morning, waiting for me to emerge. When I open the bathroom door, hopefully a bright light will be behind me, washing everything out except my silhouette, as I emerge like a god…or an alien…a bathroom alien…a bathroom alien god.

At this point I am contemplating keeping my pants around my ankles and exiting the bathroom that way, except I am sure I would be fired on the spot. Instead I pull them up and wash my hands, another signal to the masses that I am almost done. I imagine a throng of cheering people at there as they hear the water running.

With a sigh I open the door.

As the door opens two blank stares look at me, like deer caught in a car’s headlights.

The first idiot says to me,

“Were you OK in there, man?”

I pause and say,

“Yes. Yes, I am OK. Just a question. If the door is locked, what makes you think nobody is in there? Isn’t that a signal that the bathroom is occupied? Do you really need an inquisition at this point? What do you think?Did the door just locked itself? And what if the door locked itself? What are you going to do? You still can’t use the bathroom. Are you going to break down the door? If you break the door, your not going to be able to use the bathroom. You have no door. Your wanger is going to be exposed to all who walk by, because they are going to notice the broken door first and then your wanger. And what if you broke the door down while I was sitting on the toilet? How awkward would that be? I’m not sure at that point if I would finish my business or what for someone to come fix the door. You would still have to wait to use the bathroom at that point. Tell you what…next time you try the door and it’s locked, why don’t you assume someone is there, trying like hell, to have a peaceful dump, without two dumb asses jiggling the handle every five seconds and calling a press conference on the state of occupied bathrooms. Can you do that for me, man? Can you have a little patience?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sorry, man.”

“No problem,” I reply. “You might need a little Febreeze before going in there.”

And I walked away, head held high, hoping to God I do not have toilet paper stuck to my shoe.


2 Responses to “Bathroom, Occupied!”

  1. prettyfeetpoptoe November 17, 2011 at 12:20 PM #

    Hilarious. You made me laugh lots, which because I am ill, made me cough, so now your humour is responsible for my left lung flying across the room and dangling there from the lamp.

    • chrisdevoss November 17, 2011 at 2:22 PM #

      Oops, sorry. I’ll put a warning on the site claiming it’s not good for sick people. In the meantime, if you put a strobe light in your lamp I bet you can get some amazing effects on your walls and ceiling from the dangling lung.

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