I walked into the office bathroom this morning, having been blown to bits and rained on in the battle to get from Tallaght all the way in to Dublin City Centre and in desperate need of some fringe fixing.
Opening the door, a smell hit me.
Thinking it had to be one of the boys, I hurried to the Girls room trying to escape the smell, only to find I was smack-bang in the middle of it.
Twas painful, lads.
But you all know how insanely obsessed I am with my hair, so I held my breath and worked as fast as I could.
And then it occurred to me.
If anyone comes in while I’m in here or sees me coming out of the toilets, they’re going to think this is me.
Even if I say “Oh by the way, that metal-melting smell wasn’t my doing,” they’ll nod and smile politely, while in their heads they’ll be saying, It was SO her.
Pooing in a public toilet is a traumatic experience.
Not just from the hygiene perspective, but from the paranoia and judgement side of things.
Another issue that isn’t uncommon in public toilets is the the presence of skid marks.
And again, if I come in after that person, I’m a nervous wreck thinking that the next person to come in will thing I’m the dirty bitch staining the toilet bowl.
There was one particularly bad incident of Skid Marks a couple of months after I started working in my current job.
I was still a newbie and still trying to make a good impression.
(They’re all on to me at this stage, so I don’t bother any more)
I was already a nervous wreck every time I had to use the toilets, because we work in quite an old building and once the toilet is flushed, it takes about ten minutes for the cistern to fill up again.
So if someone had used the toilet right before you, you could either come back later (when someone else nearly always got in just before you again) or just leave your pee sitting in the water under a pile of toilet paper.
Anyway, this particular case of Skid Marks has to be one of the worst I’d ever seen and mortified at the thought of someone thinking it was me, I contemplated cleaning it.
Follow that logic, like!
Someone else desecrates our toilet and I’m on the brink of cleaning it.
Eventually sense kicked in and I just left it and ran before anyone could see me in there.
I think the worst one was one raised by an old Lentra workmate of mine one day when we were standing over the deli sink peeling hard-boiled eggs.
She brought up the issue of Floaters.
Apparently it nearly always happened to her whenever she pooed in a public toilet, such as our work toilet.
(If anyone hasn’t copped who would discuss this with a person over hard-boiled eggs, it’s the girl who brought you THIS).
Usually another flush of the toilet would send it hurtling down the pipes, but it’s something that haunts me in my current job.
As I mentioned previously our toilet takes about ten minutes to fill up with enough water for one flush, so if you blow that first one, you have to hang around the toilet for all those minutes and pray no one comes in during it and then face the knowing faces of colleagues when you return to your desk.
Hmph, they’ll think, she’s been a while. Must’ve been a tough curry last night…
Or you can make a run for it, but knowing my luck, I’d most definitely be caught and then I’d get the name Abandoning Poo Girl…or maybe something more creative!
I don’t actually have a finishing point for this story.
Except that I’m a little psychotic when it comes to pooping.
Elliot from Scrubs gets me…
Carla: Thank you SO much for letting me stay here, Elliot.
Elliot: Please! And I still have only one rule: I cannot talk or be talked to while I’m on the toilet and also cannot talk or be talked to BY someone who’s on the toilet.
Carla: You told me yesterday, Elliot. I get it.
Elliot: Hmmm, you say you get it and still managed to knock this morning and ask if I wanted coffee.
Carla: Oh I just thought-
Elliot: Uh bup bup bup bup buh! Pretend that never happened or I won’t poo again for two months.