My female co-worker leaves shit stains in the toilet


I should preface this entry with a little personal background. Only in recent months have I been able to admit that girls poop. I stood firmly by the point that any food we consumed turned into those twinkle sparkle graphics surrounding “My Super Sweet 16” subjects and were flown to the heavens my magical fairies. That’s where stars came from. In a recent push toward realistic adulthood beliefs, I will admit that girls do, in fact, from time to time, release post-digestion food cleanly and properly into toilets. But philosophically: if a girl shits in the bathroom, and there’s no one around to smell it, does it really stink?
I can’t answer this question about my co-worker, because she only shits when people are around. This is a daily ritual. And not just a daily “oh fuck I’ve been at the office 12 hours and if I don’t shit a little I’m going to die of something” sort of ritual. We’re talking pre-11am, could have shit at home ritual. AND THIS IS A SINGLE BATHROOM. No sink area buffer between toilet stalls and office area. Nothing between that shit stain and the office but an open door. Nothing to warn or protect the next lady who enters the bathroom with feces stank particles still lingering in the air.
On the chance that she may suffer, perhaps, from Irritable Bowel Syndrome, I forced myself to semi-reconcile with the regular 11AM shit stank. It’s…nature? It’s something. Basically, I already have enough office bitch cred to last me through my tenure here, so in an effort to curtail that, I accepted her human waste distribution for awhile…until disaster struck.
That. Bitch. Left. A. Streak. Mark. In. The. Toilet. A streak of shit. A shit stain streak mark. A lasting sign off of shit on our toilet: Best wishes, My Digested Baja Fresh. I will never forget the absolute horror I felt when I walked into shit central and saw aforementioned shit stain. Though I had smelled it many times before, it was the first time I was confronted with the shit face to face. Ass to face? Whatever it was, it was not nature and it was not ok.
The resonating “I’m here, I’m e.coli, get used to it” chant left in the toilet day after day taunted the non-office-shitting ladies in my building to a breaking point. Something had to be done. We did some research into a shit stain sensing alarm to install on the toilet, but this device was both costly and imaginary. A face to face talk about this was out of the question, a “Poo Poo goes down the potty” talk would sound unnatural to anyone over 4 years old. Slipping imodium in her coffee was slightly immoral, and based on her regularity, simply futile. As per usge, there was only one answer: Passive Aggressive Signage.
It was with this conclusion that the bravest lady in the office put up a sign reading “Do not be afraid to flush twice if you need to…” and, previous idea in mind, added “An alarm will sound if you don’t.” That sign hangs proudly as our declaration of independence from female on female shit violence in the office.

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