Showing posts with label bathrooms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathrooms. Show all posts

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Privacy Please



"I don't remember eating corn!"
Bathroom humor, it's all I know.

Dear Alisha,


Whether at church or at social outings, I sometimes cross paths with my friends while we’re both in the restroom. I’m usually happy to chat with my friends, but it makes me uncomfortable when they talk to me while I’m in a stall. I’d at least like to pretend I have some privacy there. Am I being standoffish, or is this a reasonable request?

Sincerely,
Privacy Please


Dear Privacy Please,

I have thought about your question for a while now and have taken notes while visiting restrooms with friends.  We stop talking.  We assume a cone of (brief) silence.  Sure this is a little hard for me, a talker, to drop the conversation if it's even slightly interesting, but it seems natural to allow a friend a little privacy.

So yes, this is a reasonable request.  Unless you are with your sister(s).  Then all bets are off.  

Do you agree?  Or ..do you...chat... stall-to-stall? 
Has anyone ever said something really funny to you, stall-to-stall?  I'd like hearing about it.

On the side Bathroom Story:  while waiting tables at a restaurant in my youth, we had to use the customer restrooms which I hated doing when we had business.  For some reason I thought it was really gross for a customer to see their waitress in the bathroom. But sometimes you have no choice.  We also had to wear ugly black shoes as part of our uniform. At the end of a shift one night I headed to the bathroom, with a co-worker and friend of mine, and waited in line for my turn.  When I came out of the bathroom stall I noticed my co-worker still in her stall, as identified by her same ugly black shoes.  We were the last ones in the bathroom and thinking myself funny, I banged on her metal stall door yelling things like "I know what you're doing in there!!  Hurry up!  Let me in!", and just made a lot of loud, crazy noise.  As I was washing my hands, exiting the stale was not my friend but an older, startled looking customer wearing ugly black shoes.

I tell the story better in person.