I’m on a cruise ship, and I go into the ladies’ room. You can clearly see if a door/stall is available (green) or occupied (red), which happens when you lock the door from the inside. 

I go to the first green door, and the door is shoved closed after I see [Lady #1] hovering over the toilet. 

I go to the next green door and am able to enter normally. I can hear [Lady #1] mumbling about rudeness from under the stall. 

I finish quickly and go to wash my hands. [Lady #2] enters, and she stares at the doors, debating which one to use. 

Me: *In a very slightly raised voice* “The symbol on the door will change to red when the door is locked so no one tries to enter when you are using it.”

Happy with my answer, [Lady #2] goes to the first green door, which is still occupied by [Lady #1]. She shouts out and says something about rudeness. 

I look back at [Lady #2].

Me: “She must have a thing for people watching her pee as she refuses to lock the door.”

We heard [Lady #1] loudly and almost violently lock her door.

A male customer comes up to my register and buys a cucumber and a tube of personal lubricant. Then, he heads to the restroom. He exits empty-handed twenty minutes later and goes back to shopping.

A little while later, a maintenance worker stops by my register.

Maintenance: “I just found this cucumber and this empty tube of [lubricant] in the restroom…”

Living in the dorm, I am on good terms with everyone. I try to learn the names of the various custodians and staff, and I take pride in being polite and helpful.

Recently, maintenance came into the bathroom while I was on the toilet (in a stall), so they left to return when I was done. I didn’t see the man so I wasn’t sure who had come by. 

The toilet seat had been very loose, and I didn’t recognize the design to tighten it myself, so I went to mention it to the man who had been in the restroom three minutes before. His tools were in the hallway but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I had to go to class, so I grabbed a whiteboard marker and left a note on the mirror.

Note: “Dear Maintenance: Please tighten the toilet seat, second from the left.”

Later, I came back to find that the seat had been tightened, but as crooked as possible. This hurt my feelings because it felt very deliberate and passive-aggressive. I made a mental note to check in with my buddies on staff to see what had happened. I just don’t understand why someone would go through the extra effort to make it crooked; tightening the screws takes about two minutes and would straighten the seat. I don’t know how they even got it to stay crooked.

I didn’t see any maintenance members for a couple of days, so I couldn’t ask about it. Then, while I was in class, I got an email that was sent to the entire dorm. The resident director wrote a scathing email, dripping with disgust, about an inappropriate and disrespectful message.

I started shaking as I read about how this horribly offensive message written on the bathroom mirror showed a completely unacceptable violation of community standards, she was appalled to hear about it, etc.

I ultimately sent an email, asking politely what the offensive message said. I don’t expect a reply, but I figure that someone misrepresented it to her. I feel it was out of line to send that email without any proof that the offense took place, and it was detrimental to my well-being. Then again, I can’t blame the resident director too harshly; who would expect the staff to go out of their way to tell a bald-faced malicious lie, with no apparent benefit to their doing so?

I already usually just fix everything myself if I can, but now I’m REALLY not going to want to ask for anything. I really don’t handle people lying about me well.

I guess the moral of the story is that sometimes people just assume malicious intent from innocuous notes, and I should avoid those people. Unfortunately, this dorm is falling apart, but since there is no correct or effective way to ask maintenance to do anything, I might be able to accept that which I cannot change. It takes a fair amount of wisdom to figure out who I can trust versus who will just live rent-free in my head as I try to understand why; sometimes there is no “why.”

We’ve hired a non-gender person to our department for a few weeks to help with a large job. On their first day, I walk by them in the hall as they are waiting for the women’s washroom to unlock as someone is in there.

Me: “You can use the men’s behind you.”

Coworker: “Oh, I don’t feel comfortable using the men’s. I feel safer in the women’s.”

Me: “I understand. But just so you know, there’s a non-gendered washroom just down the hall.”

Coworker: “Wait. What?”

Me: “Yeah, we have two men’s, two women’s, and two non-gendered on this floor.”

Coworker: “…non-gendered washrooms?”

Me: “Yup.”

Coworker: “For me?”

Me: “Umm. I guess. For while you’re here.”

Coworker: “So, they were made non-gendered for me?”

Me: “What? No.”

My coworker smiles a huge smile.

Coworker: “They’re just always non-gendered?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Their smile somehow gets bigger, and I understand their excitement of having a washroom representing them without preamble or concession. I smile back.

Me: “I’ll show you where they are if you want to use them.”

I’m seventeen, and I recently got a job bussing tables at a small mom-and-pop restaurant near my house. The job is awesome. I get paid amazingly, and everyone there treats me with dignity and respect. When I applied, I was told my responsibilities included bussing tables, bringing guests drinks, and checking that the bathrooms were clean once or twice a shift. This includes cleaning the mirror, making sure toilet paper is stocked, checking soap levels, cleaning wet floors, etc.

Three days ago, a mother and father with two boys, one aged around five and the other ten, came in to eat. They were very respectful and polite to the waitstaff and didn’t seem to be a problem at all.

Halfway through their visit, my manager requested I check the bathrooms, and as I entered, I saw the ten-year-old straight-up s***ting in the urinal. To be honest, I was flabbergasted and had no idea what to do at the moment. I just kind of made eye contact with him, turned around, and walked right out. I went directly to my manager in the kitchen and told him what I had seen.

My manager was less than amused and told me to go clean it. I protested that I didn’t want to.

Manager: “It’s your responsibility to clean.”

And he handed me some cleaning supplies. As I walked back to the dining area, I saw the little s***ter walking back to his family. He made direct eye contact with me and had a sly grin on his face. This was it for me.

I was like, “F*** this. I’m not cleaning this mess. I’m telling this kid’s parents what he did.”

I started walking to his family’s table, and his grin turned to absolute mortification. I reached his mom.

Me: “Your son just pooped in the urinal, and my manager is telling me to go clean it. Would it be possible for him to do it himself?”

The kid literally burst into tears, but his mother had none of it.

His parents were outright humiliated, and their faces turned bright red. His mother yanked him up by the arm, and I led her to the bathroom, where she made him clean the s*** on his own. She apologized profoundly, and they left a huge tip on their bill.

I heard that she called the restaurant later to apologize again. A different manager picked up the phone and then called me, absolutely livid that I would make a guest clean the urinal. She told the boss, and today, I got a message telling me to not bother coming back.

I responded:

Me: “Okay. I’ll be sure to visit soon and take a nice big s*** in the urinal. Have fun cleaning it up! [Smiley Face]”

No matter how tempting, I’m obviously not going to do that. I just thought it would be a funny retaliation.