You, Ma'am, are a Friggin' Pig!

Today I about lost my mind. What is the deal with these women, and I use that term loosely, veeeeeery loosely, who treat the (shared) restroom at work as though it's their own personal diorama of filth? I mean really! How hard is it to clean up after yourself?!?!

I have actually had to send an e-mail to all female members of the plant twice (twice!) explaining the general concept of be-nice-to-your-sisters in this area ... and there are only nine of us!

Twice, people! Not once, oh no! Two! Entirely! Separate! Times! Here's the e-mail I had to send last time (it embarrasses me to even have to admit it):

After having received, once again, a number of complaints about the condition of the 5th floor North ladies room, I feel the need to reiterate our general rules:

• Pick up after yourself: this includes tissue, trash, or paper on the floor.


• Wipe up after yourself: this includes splashes, hair, makeup, or soap around the sink and mirror.


• If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat.


• When you use the last Kleenex: 1) throw the empty box away, and 2) get a new box from the outer room to set on the set of drawers in the inner room.


• When using the plant-provided feminine items in the drawers, close the drawer completely and throw the wrapper away … if you use the last item in the drawer, restock from the boxes in the outer room … if there are none left in the outer room, let me know so I can order additional supplies.


• If necessary, leave the light on and fan running when you exit the Ladies Room.


• Treat this shared space as though you are the next person who will be using it.

Thank you kindly for your attention to this matter ... it is greatly appreciated; please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions.

Wow. Pretty rough set of rules, no? How ever will people live up to expectation? I actually shudder to think what these "ladies" bathrooms at home look like. Either they are ineffable filth jockeys, they think they're better than their peers, or they simply disdain those who clean up after them ... or some combination of the three.

This afternon was particularly bad. Once again I walked into a palpable wall of stench that fair knocked me on my ass before I could snap on the light/fan and execute an abrupt about-face to get the hell out of there (once it gets in your nose you're done for). I came thisclose to bellowing down the hall, "There's a fan in here for a reason, people!"

And that's the tamest example of the pit that has become our restroom. It generally looks like it's been stormed by a troop of howler monkeys fighting for supremacy with a family of rabid raccoons. Why can't you assholes clean up after yourselves? Sigh. I hate everybody.