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.
