I
could be mad about being forced to come back to the physical workplace
for no valid reason. I could be mad about having to spend my days
soaking up asbestos in a dreary basement office and dodging cockroaches
as I pick my way through the cluttered storage room that doubles as a kitchen mini-fridge station. I could be mad.
But
how could I be mad, when I work in a building that has at least four
women's restrooms!? When you work in a building with four restrooms,
you're spoiled for choice! You're literally flush with options!
Whenever
nature so much as whispers, you can answer the summons in any of three
vastly different directions, entering a choose-your-own-adventure world
limited only by your imagination! ...And the probably-finite number of
restrooms.
To be
perfectly honest, I have not made a full exploration of the sanitary
options offered by my building, and so cannot say for sure just how many
restrooms there are, or whether indeed the supply is limitless. But I
can say that my journey of discovery has unearthed no less than three
ladies' rooms that I employ regularly to the benefit of my worktime
productivity.
It
is oft said that low morale hampers motivation, but it can surely not be
said that my morale is at any risk, as long as I have unfettered access
to the smorgasbord of restrooms in my office building! Oh, the variety!
There's
the OG main bathroom, with the most privacy out of all the restrooms.
It has 2 regular stalls and one handicapped stall, so it's unmatched for
providing personal space, and there's a single sink in a little alcove
that I enjoy when I want to brush my teeth in solitude. I used this
bathroom exclusively my first year on the job, until one day I noticed a
coworker making frequent trips across the courtyard.
A brief investigation led to my rediscovery (I say "re" because this is the bathroom I employed when I was having wardrobe malfunctions the day I interviewed for my job)
of the little 2-stall bathroom at the other end of the building. While
the main bathroom will always hold a special place in my heart, the
little bathroom boasts an indispensable full-length mirror in case I
need to check my outfit before one of those valuable, frequent, and
extremely necessary in-person interactions I'm always having at least
once every 4 months.
Between the
OG and the Little bathrooms, I happily divided my attention for years.
The Little soon became my favorite because of its mirror, and also its
location, which affords me a quick jaunt in the outdoors as I cross the
courtyard to reach it. But on the flip side, it is right next to a
classroom and gets clogged with students during breaks, so the main one
with its three stalls was usually a safer bet.
Then
one day, a little niggling discontent led me to a grand discovery. In
my building (with two parallel wings and a main corridor between them),
there are no bathrooms in my wing. There is a men's room just around the
corner, but the nearest women's room on my floor (the OG bathroom) is
almost twice that distance from my office. I was jealous of the men, and
during one of my lazier days, I began to question whether it might be
preferable to walk up to the second floor, where that coveted spot just
around the corner is occupied by a women's room. Climbing the stairs
would probably be better for my health and less time-consuming than
walking all the way to the main bathroom or the little one, so I now use
this bathroom more than any of the others.
The
bathroom upstairs really has nothing to recommend it. It has three
small stalls, one of which is usually blocked by the main door, and two
of the toilets leak from the base, so there is always water on the
floor. The other toilet constantly flushes when you're sitting on it.
But this restroom is an option if you're ever trying to escape the crush
of students between classes, or if your Fitbit is reminding you that
you still need to climb more stairs today.
You
could climb even more stairs and get to a treasure trove of other
toilets! For example, I know there's one on the top floor—the dimly lit
floor with the dormer windows that looks like it could double for
Bastian's attic hangout during the scariest storm scene known to
cinema...but then again, maybe three bathrooms are good enough!
Enough?
No, three bathrooms are a gift! A blessing! No way I could have that
kind of luxury working from home! How else could I experience the joy of
relieving myself in cozy companionship, with only a thin metal slab
between me and my nearest partner in pooping? And how else could I have
one of those vaunted informal hallway conversations—you know, like the
last one I had, about 3 years ago, wherein I was informed how great my
pants were—that are the lifeblood of our college's mission? It would be
impossible.
