Office Restrooms And The Unwinnable War We Fight On A Daily Basis

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Desk jockeys all over this great nation of ours will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say the words “communal bathrooms.” If you work in an office, there’s a very good chance that you share a bathroom with any other office that just so happens to be on your floor.

Now, I don’t know what it’s like in the women’s restrooms at corporate offices, but I can tell you unequivocally that men’s bathrooms in an office space are a goddamn war zone.
Let’s start off with the fact that most of these bathrooms require a key or passcode to enter.

Who is sneaking into a bathroom on the seventh or eighth floor of a commercial office building? Certainly not homeless people. That would require getting past security on the first floor of the building. Is it wild animals? Cube monkeys from other floors trying to sneak into a different floors bathroom?

I don’t understand the need for a passcode or key card to get into a bathroom, but any office job I’ve ever had, requires it and it drives me to the brink of insanity. Six, maybe seven times out of ten when I have to get out of my poorly constructed, bottom of the barrel desk chair to take a piss I forget to bring my key card.

This, of course, means that I have to walk all the way back to my desk, past my boss’s office to retrieve said key card and then go back to the bathroom. I have a 48 oz water bottle at work these days. This means I’m peeing a lot, and that in turn usually means a few side eyes from higher ups who think that I’m shirking work responsibilities in favor of pissing. This isn’t the case at all, but I know that’s what they’re thinking.

My next issue is with the baby boomers in offices. I won’t get into why I think I’m better than 75% of my office mates over the age of 45 or 50 because that article has been written one too many times, but I will get into their bathroom habits. I’m not even mad. I’m concerned.

Walk into a men’s bathroom at any time between 8:30 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. on a work day and you can hear some guy name Jerry or Frank with two or three kids and a mortgage grunting, moaning, and spraying an all-out assault on an unsuspecting throne.

Toilet farts rain down on you as you try and pee in a urinal as quickly as possible. It smells like a goddamn farm in all of these bathrooms and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.

Every hour of every work day there is a guy who is waging a one-man war on some poor, innocent porcelain.

What are these guys eating? Does the digestive system just break down completely once you turn 40? It’s the same with this demographic at urinals.

Grunting. Guttural, unholy noises being emitted for a simple piss. There is no decorum or decency in an office bathroom from the older guys and it’s a goddamn shame.

I’m a pretty good guy. I don’t speak to anyone in the restroom. I keep my head down and get in and out as quickly as possible. It’s the wild west for the baby boomers, though, and I’m fed up.

You don’t feel like having a conversation while you take a piss two feet away from the divorcee paying an arm and a leg for child support? Too bad, because some joke about how wild your weekend was compared to his is definitely happening.

Something has to be done. Can we get separate bathrooms for the folks under 40 and another one for the geriatrics who drop bombs over Baghdad every time they step foot in a stall?

I know that one day I’ll probably be in the same boat as these guys. Fed up with life and the way things are going, I’m sure that the last thing these old timers care about is the comfort of some twenty something greenhorn that wants to take a piss.

All I’m asking for a little more serenity. Some tact. The noises that I hear on a daily basis from these dudes haunts my dreams, and since I don’t have a private restroom a la George Costanza, this is my plea. Don’t do it for me. Do it for the good of the rest of the office.

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Johnny D

fashion icon. @dudaronomy on twitter. e-mail:

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