Please close the gates of hell behind you

The struggle over bathroom soundtrack etiquette is well documented on this blog.

Out of respect for your co-workers, do you clench and try to minimize the amount of butt music during a #2 session? Or do you let fly, believing that you are entitled to anally whistle any tune you’d like during your time in the saddle?

It is, as they say, a personal decision.

But one thing that we can all agree on—the sounds of the men’s restroom should really be contained in the men’s restroom. But that’s difficult when a co-worker decides that the doorway to said men’s room is the best spot for an impromptu meeting.

Let me explain.

I was recently ensconced in the penthouse stall on three, working on a particularly troublesome bit of business. (Damn you taco truck!) Upon entering the men’s room, I had noticed several colleagues congregated around the door (a strange location to “hang out,” to be sure) but knew that the door itself provided a modicum of protection to all parties.

Mid deuce, I heard a co-worker open the door and, standing in the transom, begin a conversation with one of the gaggle outside.

My instinct to protect the innocent kicked in, I instructed my body to “cork it,” assuming that the chatty co-worker was simply making quick small talk and that he would close the door behind him so that he could conduct his own business.

I was wrong.

The co-worker began an extended conversation about a work/client thingy. I can’t tell you the details of this critical convo; the act of corkage takes a measure of concentration that prohibited me from fully listening. But I do know that the door remained fully open, potentially exposing my siren call to the entire third floor.

Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Somebody squeezed past him, did some urinal business and left—and yet the conversation continued.

A good three minutes later, I was just about to yell out “fire in the hole!” when the co-worker wrapped up his very important meeting and moved into the stall of last resort for a little quality time himself.

This is not OK, men. Talk inside. Talk outside. But pick a lane.

Fortunately, I was able to complete my transaction, wash up and leave. And while I was tempted to grab the trash can out of the kitchen and prop open the door so my co-worker could experience a taste of his own medicine, I suspect that the gesture would have lost on him.

Let’s keep those doors closed, men. Danger lurks within.

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