The Jig is Up
A few months ago, I wrote about my disdain for most men. In doing so, I highlighted one of my major pet peeves: the complete and utter disregard most men have for shared bathrooms. In particular, my gripe was about the men's room I use in my office building. I had tried posting signs (#1, #2), but as I reported earlier, they were not exactly "well-received". Shortly after my original posting, I came up with a [self-proclaimed] brilliant solution.While thinking about how to keep undesirables out of the good stall (the one whose toilet seat was not broken), I noticed that the lock on the door could be manipulated from outside using nothing but a coin. Being somewhat mischievous my entire life, I've observed and noted the reactions most people have to certain situations. In particular, I've noticed that most people will accept what you tell them if they have no reason to suspect otherwise.
I decided to exploit this trait. My hypothesis was that when an average bloke enters a bathroom with two stalls, and one of them is locked, he will generally take the path of least resistance by simply using the stall that is most readily accessible. To prove this hypothesis, my co-workers and I have been locking the stall behind us for the last three months.
My solution wasn't without its share of problems, mind you, but overall its pros out-weighed its cons by a long shot. The most notable problem was that in order to enforce the belief that there was a good reason why the stall was locked, we had to play innocent if we entered the bathroom in someone else's presence. Though my co-workers seemed to sometimes lower their standards in this scenario and just use a different outlet, I would turn around and leave the bathroom, only to return in a few minutes. That, or I would pretend like I just came in there to wash my hands, and would do so until the room was vacant. If someone came in while I was in the stall, I would usually just wait the person out so that I could lock the door behind me in solitude. If anyone questioned me how I got in the stall, my story was to be that the door was open when I came in, and yes, I did find it odd that it was locked most of the time, and no, I had no idea why. Alas, no one would ever question me, as per my prediction.
Unfortunately, I think the jig is up. Some smart-asses on the floor have finally figured out that the stall is not being justly locked, and after three mostly-wonderful months, have figured out how to get in there. They are oblivious to the original reasons for locking the stall, and sadly in one short day, the cleanliness and appealing nature of my stall has taken a downward spiral. No longer can I call it the gentlemen's stall as regular men have infiltrated my defenses.
I will continue to lock the stall behind me because I think there is still a sizeable populous of men on the floor whose problem-solving abilities aren't adequate to figure this out (in particular the two old, decrepit men down the halls whose disgusting bathroom habits continue to astound me). Until I can think of a new way to stump these chumps, I guess I am going to have to put up with less than adequate conditions in what was once an exclusive stall.
In the meantime, can any guys out there explain to me why flushing the toilet after you have used it is too much to ask? Is that you really like the smell of urine? Are you so proud of what you have expelled, that you must leave it on display for the next person? Are you really that fucking lazy? Please reveal your secrets! For the life of me, I cannot grasp this particular modus operandi.
