Vice president of the bathroom

I am in the Baltimore airport.  I was just in the men’s rest room where I heard a voice projecting and echoing in the dingy ceramic-walled space. “Yeah, he’ll be the person interfacing with the customer on that...”  Huh?  The discussion was coming from somewhere in the stalls where, in a men’s bathroom, there’s typically only one thing happening, and that’s not a project management conference call.  Except this was evidently bathroom business and a call combined. 

One of the problems with holding a “call in the stall” is that there is a cacophony of other noises emanating from nearby stalls and urinals – including various plumbing and bodily sounds.  “I think he’s a vice president there,” he continued.  Peeing sounds.  Loud flush.  Come on man, where’s your sense of dignity?

There are other issues here too. When you go into the men’s bathroom, there are a few universally agreed-upon and unspoken rules that are always followed.  The most important (after the no-looking when you’re at the urinals rule) is no talking.  You don’t start conversations in there, even if you’re with someone.  You keep your comments to yourself – eyes straight ahead – wash your hands and leave.  Lingering too long to check your tie or hair or whatever is also not acceptable.  “I think that Sherry in Dallas is going to be doing that,” I hear after another flush.  I glance to my side and one of the other guys in there shakes his head imperceptibly.  We agree - he's a rule breaker. 

We can’t help but hear the manager try to manage from his stall.  "Those were supposed to be shipped from Atalnta last week..."

Another problem is that he is simply annoying everyone else. OK, me especially. I want to hang around and glare at him when he leaves the stall but I remember that there’s a California Tortilla Mexican restaurant right around the corner so he may be in there for a while.  Plus, hanging around makes me a rule breaker too.

Once back in the food court, I am still agitated and I am muttering to myself that I bet he didn’t wash his hands.  Then I hear a loud projecting voice: “Susan, we're going to need them shipped no later than the end of the week”.  I look up and see the bathroom talker sitting at the table next to me.  I glare at him.  Better late than never.