Last week I wrote about my elevator experience so today I thought that I would share my latest experience with the growing lack of courtesy in society, but most specifically in my office building.
This afternoon I headed off to the restroom. Long time readers may recall that this past January I wrote about a man whose odor nearly forced evacuation of the building or at least the purchase of a new Hazmat suit. I kind of like the one in white. It is traditional and somewhat elegant with a bit of a modern feel to it. But the one on the left is cool too. I do enjoy a nice blue. It goes so well with my olive skin.
You may also recall another bathroom themed entry a few months ago. In that one I discussed a number of other issues related to bathroom activities.
But today I have a new one to share with you, a new experience that needs to be presented to the world because surely I am not the only person to have this happen.
It was almost the end of the business day and three cups of coffee and lunch were demanding a quick exit. They were pounding on the door and begging to be let go the way Midwesterners pour into California midwinter begging for sunshine.
And thus I found myself hurrying down the hall to the establishment in which I could attend to these needs. And that is where my story really begins.
I was in serious need and required immediate attention so as I entered the room I was unbuckling my belt because haste was required. With due speed I entered my stall and was already occupied when I noticed that there was a third foot in my stall.
I looked down in disbelief. A third foot wearing a scuffed up pair of black wingtips. I own two pairs and they both are beautifully polished so I knew that it was not my foot. Ok, I knew for obvious reasons, but just go with it.
Not only was this foot in my space, it was in a place that I hold sacred. That space and privacy is mine and mine alone and there was an invader. So I stared at the foot and pondered what to do. I wear a 12 Triple E. For the ladies that means that I have a very large foot, but this one was bigger. So it stood to reason that he was probably larger than myself.
And I began to consider just how big this man could be that he would require so much space. It occurred to me that all things being proportional and equal he might be quite large, so kicking his foot might not be the best course of action. Yet at the same time I was reluctant to ask him to move it because he had to be aware that I was in there and still he didn’t move it.
I began to get irritated with this jerk who so thoughtlessly had taken my land. I was angered at having to sit in the Occupied Stall and I considered what form of resistance to take. The more I sat there with his foot the more irritated I became.
Finally I gently bumped his shoe and apologized for getting it dirty. He said “what” and I explained to him that I had run out of toilet paper and had taken advantage of the uneven surface of his shoe to clean myself.
There was a mighty grunt and the shoe was removed. Simultaneously I burst out of my stall and washed my hands in world record time and headed out of the restroom for freedom. It was a rough moment, but I was proud of having freed my land from the occupier with nonviolent means.
But I fear that there will come another day in which Gigantor and I will be forced to share a small space again.