I have learned through trial and error, mostly error, to avoid wearing overly unique shoes to work. Sure, my nifty boots or beat-up Chucks might make my personality stand out on certain days, but there are times I’d rather not stand out, particularly when I’m sitting down.
By wearing a more universal-style shoe to work, I can avoid completely identifying myself during moments of intense privacy during my shift. Our bathroom stalls don’t extend far enough to the ground to cover the shoe, meaning it pays to blend in with plain brown loafers. (On a side note, we have to wear ID tags at work, and many guys clip them to their belts or pockets. This means that when sitting in the stall, their name badge is at floor level, completely on display for anyone entering the bathroom, proudly announcing “Yes, I, (insert name), am completely responsible for all you are about to encounter.”).
Bathroom anonymity can pay off at times, to be sure. Oh, I’ve had to hear way more executive-level farting than I care for, and I’m also too familiar with one older gentleman’s struggles to get a good urine stream going (he actually grunts when he pees; I think I’m going to suggest he get his prostate examined). There are times, though, when you hear comedic gold, despite the fact that when you know the people involved, it creates visuals you can never burn from your brain.
I recently overheard this at work: Co-worker walks up to the urinal, unzips his pants. There’s a pause, followed by a soft smacking sound. Co-worker says, “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
I’m not sure which is worse, a sleepy penis or a sluggish prostate. Either way, I hope these guys get things taken care of soon, preferably when I’m nowhere around.