Unlike others I know (*cough* wadE *cough* Jason), I\’ve never had trouble with the affliction known informally as \”pee-shyness\”. The thought of whether I\’m next to someone else or not doesn\’t even cross my mind. Wait, does that make me pee-cocky? That\’s fun in a couple of ways, isn\’t it? Hee hee.
Where was I? Oh, right. Despite my lack of modesty in the men\’s room, I don\’t go out of my way to shoulder up to fellow relievers. Bathroom, uh, tasks are private ones; I want to give people as much space as possible, and expect the same in return. Hence, I bring up the topic of stall etiquette. (Oddly, Alex and I both ran into this separately one day last week, and were similarly perplexed.
Imagine, if you will, the following bathroom layout, where X = urinal, O = little boy urinal, and | = divider. This is the loo layout at work:
X | X | O
When nobody else is around, I take the far left position. If that\’s occupied, I take the far right. If those are both occupied, I take the middle, but that\’s the only time. (If all three are occupied, I go in the sink.) (Just kidding.) (Sorta.) We\’ve recently taken on a fair number of non-Minnesota native workers here, though and I\’ve noticed is that most of them will come in and pick the middle slot, even if all three are open.
I would never, ever do such a thing. Would you? Do these people not consider that weird? Are they more pee-cocky than me? Is this a Minnesota thing? I\’m not sure. I wish they\’d hurry up and start paying heed to local convention; at some point, someone\’s going to catch me going in the sink.
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