Toilet

What happens to people, normal people, when they enter a public toilet? 
 
By public, I mean a toilet anywhere other than the one in your own home.

Some people feel the need to poo at work.  Now this is fine, if you need to and you don’t feel embarrassed about your work colleagues possibly walking into your aroma.  I know most blokes think nothing of pooing at work but most of my female friends wouldn’t dream of it.

I don’t.  The last time I did was so traumatic and weird, that I haven’t done since.

Brace yourself, this is not a pretty story….

I was working as an assistant manager in a well known store that had branches all over London.  We were short staffed so I had to cover the lunchtime period in one of the city branches.  I didn’t know any of the staff there and being as it was predominantly women, young women, it was quite gossip filled and bitchy. 

I had lunch on my own in the staff tea room at the back of the store.  I had a jacket potato and when I finished, I chucked the polystyrene container in the waste bin, in the staff toilet.

About an hour later, I suddenly, desperately need a poo.  I had to go. 

I waited for all the staff to be dealing with customers and snuck into the staff toilet. 

Luckily it was just a normal poo, not diarrhea or anything.  I washed my hands and flushed the toilet ......... and nothing happened. 

I lifted the lid of the cistern and looked, in horror as it was bone dry. IN A PANIC I grabbed the jacket potato carton and ….fished the poo out of the toilet (it had been sitting on top of paper luckily so at least I didn’t get my hands wet!!!).  I then marched through the packed shop floor and without a word, jogged out of the door thinking I’ll just casually chuck it in a bin….. well, it was years ago and during the IRA bomb scares, so all the bins were caged over!  So there I was, running up and down Fleet Street with a poo in a box. I think I finally got rid of it somewhere near The Strand.

Traumatised, I have not pooed at work since. 

In my defence, I had the decency to,
a) wash my hands and
b) worry about leaving it there for others to see…and
c) if that’s the worst thing I’ve done, over 20 yrs ago, then I don’t think I’ll be sent to burn in a fiery furnace any time soon.

People, women, because I only go into the women’s loo, do still poo and don’t seem to have any such concern for what others may see, hear or smell.

Only this lunchtime, I nipped in for a wee and headed straight for cubicle 1 to find a huge brown, shiny turd, lying there in its porcelain nest, like a snoozing python waiting to attack the arse of the next unsuspecting visitor.

Now, what agitated me is that the person who laid that big shiny shit had quite nonchalantly sat there, squeezed that monster out of their body and just left it. There cannot have been any attempt to flush it away either.  Who does that? And if they’re that slovenly, did they even bother to wipe?
I also have a problem with women who, knowing that there are others in the toilet nextdoor having an innocent widdle, plonk themselves noisily down on the seat and groan and wheeze, as though they are really proud of the thunderous, avalanche, crescendoing from their nether regions and they want the world to know about it.

Lastly, and I don’t know if this is mere folk lore, or whether it actually, truly and honestly happened but we have sanitary towel bags hanging from a hook on the back of each cubicle door at work.  There's a woman on each bag, dressed in a Victorian dress with what look like stains all over the skirt part - maybe it's meant as a warning to any woman who may be on the blob and too lazy to change.... anyway, there used to be a sign that said, ‘Please do not flush sanitary products down the toilets but please place in the bags provided’.

Rumour has it that one of the cleaners found that some thick, demented creature had done just that…literally. They had popped their dirty old jam rag in the bag provided….and left it, hung up on the door.

ERR!!! SORT YOURSELVES OUT PEOPLE!!!