Presents in the plumbing

In my first two weeks at my new job I was struck by dirty bombs three times! I haven't been struck again since (perhaps there was something wrong with the plumbing which has been fixed) but please - ladies, gentlemen - repeat after me:

- Poo

- Flush

- Check

- Flush again !

I'm a poo professional, but really, it's just not polite to inflict your poos on other people.

Re-employment

I'm recently re-employed again (hence the slight downturn in regular blog postings). The toilets at my new place of employment are a little on the miserable side, and it got me to thinking - job interviews should be held in toilets.

 

Seriously. There are plenty of seats, you can talk shit without it being out of place, and guys can all stand around comparing penis sizes.

 

You can learn a lot about an organisation from the condition and layout of their toilets. The ladies toilet in my new workplace has two cubicles and one separate disabled toilet into which no disabled person has ever gone or could ever go. It is the worst type of accessible toilet: it is an almost-accessible toilet. It has a tap that can be mouth-operated, a generous hand rail and a slightly wider than usual access door. Unfortunately, the door leads into a little hallway with a door which is smaller than usual. Even if a wheelchair could fit in the hall door, there isn't sufficient room in the hallway to turn into the disabled toilet, without doing an 8 point turn. Honestly, who designs these things?

 

I do like my new workplace, but there is an air of almost doing things right.

 

My old workplace was notoriously bad for people not changing the loo roll - I guess it just wasn't in anyone's job description.

Unemployment

Tomorrow is my last day at my current job. There are many reasons why I'm leaving, but this is the main one:

You can see why I have to leave.

Let me show you again, just to make sure you got it.

Sigh.

Dirty Bombs

There's nothing worse than walking into a toilet and finding pee on the seat. Or so I thought until Thursday.
A friend walked into the toilets at her work and discovered not one, but two poo pellets on the seat.
I have a number of questions about this.

1. How do you manage to poo on the toilet seat?
2. How does that poo end up all the way up the back of the seat?
3. Finally, how do you not notice the poo on the seat and then CLEAN IT THE HELL UP?

My friend, being a fellow Toiletiquette Fiend, gathered a large wad of paper and cleaned up the offence. It's a strange day for humanity when one healthy adult has to clean up the poo of another healthy adult.

I really do find it incredible that people are terrified of their own effluence. Once their waste has exited their body they completely dissociate themselves from it. "No, this is not mine, this was never mine. This mess has nothing whatever to do with me," and out they walk as though nothing has happenned. I probably wouldn't find this so mind-boggling except that these same people seem to be perfectly happy to have OTHER people, complete strangers, touch their poo. Surely that's a fetish.

Back when I lived in a hostel, the plumber had to come round once every 6 weeks to unblock the sewage. There are some women who can't bear the idea of wrapping up their dirty tampon and putting it in the bin. They would rather drop it straight into the toilet and pretend that it didn't happen. They would much prefer it if a strange man would come around, gather up all their dirty tampons and put them in the bin for them. What an odd, odd world.

Bog Roll 01

Most of my observations about toilet etiquette are made at work. My work toilets are located in the stairwell between two floors, meaning that we share our toilets with the ladies from the floor below. So when I notice a breach in etiquette, I don't know who to point the finger at: one of my lot, or one of the lot downstairs.

And there is someone on my floor or the one below who commits the gravest of toilet faux pas - not changing the toilet roll. That empty cardboard roll with a wisp of white paper whispering in the wind is dead - and they leave it on the holder. It is a skeleton in their closet.

Of course, what really disturbs me is that it may not be just one person. What if the whole floor is in on it? Or both floors? What if they're all purposely leaving that dead roll on the holder, thinking 'oh well, the next person can deal with that'? Or worse, what if they're not doing it on purpose? The horror! They actually just don't think about it!

To combat this disaster in a cubicle, I'm producing a series of community notices. Just to help people remember that there are rules about using public toilets.