Category Archives: Weird is Fun

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Protected: Stress Art Thy Name.

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Protected: Black or White?

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Protected: Squeeze Me!

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Protected: (sigh) People…

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Protected: Not World Changing.

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Protected: Minutiae.

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Filed under Tidbits, Weird is Fun

Stalling Out.

*Warning — some may consider the following post to be TMI*

So, I’m sitting there in the Big Girl Stall at work taking care of business. For some reason, I was having trouble opening the tampon wrapper, neither end would open for me and I’d tried both ends several times. The more I rattled the wrapper, the more I realized I was probably making the woman in the other stall think I was unwrapping a candy bar or six while taking care of business.

I should preface the next part of the story by explaining the set up in the ladies’ bathroom at my work. It’s pretty standard in that, when you open the main bathroom door, the sink area is right there and then there are three stalls. The first two are normal stalls and the one at the end is a Big Girl Stall*.

When I entered the restroom, the stall closest to the sink was occupied, knowing that rule #2 of Public Bathroom Etiquette dictates that, if possible, there is to be a vacant stall between occupied stalls, I took up residence in the Big Girl Stall. Which, incidentally, is the furthest stall from the door and according to Public Bathroom Etiquette Rule #3, is the Poo Stall. To say I had a lot going on that morning is an understatement.

Anyway, as mentioned previously, things were not going well for me in The Big Girl Stall, but they were… shall we say, slowly getting there. My “candy bar” was unwrapped and other things were happening. The chick in the 1st stall (thankfully) finished her business and went out to wash her hands.

I heard the bathroom entrance door open and someone comment to the hand washing chick, “Ohhhhh, someone’s in MY stall. Hahaha.” (Great. Way to scare things to a stop.) They laughed together and then the bathroom door opened and someone left. It got quiet and I figured someone had left and the newcomer had entered the 1st stall.

Then I hear, “Uhhh, I have question for the person in the last stall…”

Ahhh hell. I was quiet for a moment, like, what could she possibly want with me. Because, man, I hate it when people talk to me in the restroom. I thought about ignoring her, but curiosity got the better of me, plus I could tell she was waiting for me to respond. So I responded with a drawn out, sarcastic sounding, “Y-e-s….???”

She wasn’t bothered by that, apparently, as she boldly asked, “Can you give me an ETA?”

I said, “Uhhh…” (What I should have said was, “WTF?”) She interrupted with, “You know, like how much longer are you going to be in there?” (Gee, thanks for the clarification…)

I didn’t answer for a moment and she elaborated, “‘Cause I can come back if you’re gonna be long…”

I finally said, “I don’t know, like a minute or two?” The thing was, I was irritated at myself for answering, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say but the truth. Later, of course, I realized I should have either gone with the most elaborate exaggeration — something like, “Hell, I dunno. Two or three hours? Cuz I got a lot of shiz goin’ on up in here…” or something harpy like “You know, there’s two other perfectly good toilets in here, why don’t you use one of them instead of trying to make me feel uncomfortable?”

The thing was, by the person’s voice/laugh, I think I know who she is and, if my guess is right, she is about 11″ shorter and 50 pounds lighter than me, and certainly not handicapped! She would fit just fine in one of the other stalls…

I told a few of my friends at work what happened, because I realized that even though it was really awkward, it was also really funny. Plus, I figure if it gets back to her, maybe she’ll think twice about being so rude? The best part of it was, that my friends all had input — one of them suggested that we should have a sign up list on the Big Girl Stall Door. HA! Another one suggested that we install a name plate holder and we each get a turn every day of putting our name plate on the stall door. Then we can truly say it’s “MY” stall.

How would you have handled the situation? Seriously, put yourself in “my” shoes (or stall) for a minute and give me your suggestion, because I fully expect the situation to recur. Plus, I’m just defiant enough that I’m thinking about homesteading that stall…

*Disclaimer: The Big Girl Stall is also know as the handicapped stall. I respect handicapped people and their needs, however, since we do not have any handicapped people who are presently employed there, and we rarely have visitors from outside who need the facilities, I (along with everyone else) consider that stall fair game.

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Protected: Misaligned

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