I work in an office building where every floor has a set of community restrooms. We share ours with two other companies on our floor.
There is a woman who works in the largest company on our floor who is, I think, the most fastidious person I have ever seen. I don’t know her name, and I have only exchanged pleasantries with her, but through my keen powers of observation I have witnessed a personal grooming quirkfest that sort of boggles my mind.
It started off with the dispenser of floral lotion soap that sat on the shelf above the sinks. At first I thought, how nice, building management is providing name-brand soap for us ladies so that we can smell like freesia. But then, the soap dispensers that are mounted to the sinks were full of pretty pink generic soap, so maybe not.
Then there was the can of air freshener that rested atop the paper towel dispenser. Oh, what a welcome sight that was.
Once I spotted the corner of something peeking over the edge of the paper towel dispenser, next to the can of Glade. Of course I picked it up to see what it was. Wouldn’t you? Well, what it was, was an individually-wrapped personal cleansing wipe. Hmm.
During all of this bathroom discovery, I would run into this woman occasionally, and I would notice her using the name-brand soap whenever she would wash her hands. Oh, I thought, she brought this in. And so I surmised that she was probably responsible for the other stuff, too.
So what, you might be thinking. It could be her. It could be anybody on the floor. But I’m telling you it’s her.
Well, yes, of course it could. But the other day I went into the restroom and boy, I had to go. Bad. And I needed to be alone. And there she was.
She was brushing her teeth.
Ok, it was after lunch. Lots of people brush their teeth after lunch. I’ve been known to do it myself. This lady does it every day, as far as I can tell. And ok, that’s fine. We all have our routines.
I was in something of an awkward position, having to go to the bathroom and yet not wishing to be in there with someone else for the duration. Going up or down the stairs to another floor was… not a good idea. I couldn’t just turn tail and run, for a number of reasons.
So I went into a stall and I made appropriate noises and I waited.
tick tick tick
I could tell from the sounds that she was finished brushing her teeth and I began to hope that she’d hie on out of the restroom. But no.
What’s that sound? twick, thwick, pickpickpick
Seriously? Really? She’s flossing her teeth?
At this point I am undeniably trapped. I’m in the stall, my pants on the ground. It’s been several minutes already and there has been no flushing. It’s pretty obvious someone needs to be alone.
Who the hell does a full flossing in a community bathroom at two o’clock in the afternoon?
I managed to wait her out, though I was beginning to wonder if she was going to gargle next. She finished her periodontal ministrations and moved along. How glad was I.
Perhaps I am just not quite as high maintenance.
Read Full Post »