Where Etiquette Fails Me

I have a favorite stall in the bathroom.

I feel weird that that’s true but it is.

I do not like it when I rush to the bathroom at work to find someone in the stall I like. First, I practically live in there so people should know that that is my place. Secondly, it’s not like I can stand and wait for the stall to open, the occupant to exit and immediately rush in there, water still flushing, to claim my space.

That is a level of creepy to which I cannot descend.

But all stalls are not created equal. In one of the stalls, I swear the toilet seat is crooked. And taking the big stall is just too “Seinfeld” for me. And I don’t like to be next to someone else who is using a stall – I like an empty stall between us.

These things trouble me.

I like that particular stall best and I just can’t seem to rein in that crazy.

So I’m thinking of going all “Chicago” on my co-workers. No, I’m not planning to choreograph a jazz number talking about killing those who use my stall.

I’m just considering putting a folding chair in the space to let people know that it’s been claimed.

And I’m just now realizing where Alex gets his control issues from. Good luck, young Jedi.