Paradise by the Bathroom Stall
While my co-workers follow the rules for the urinals, it seems that the rules are thrown out the window for the bathroom stalls in the men's room at my workplace. The reason? There is a kink in the chain of stalls: all but one of them suck.
As you come into the bathroom, the first stall has a little problem with flushing. A second flush is not made for courtesy here - it is done out of necessity. This stall is also directly behind the sinks, which makes people a bit uncomfortable about, well, doing anything that may be in noseshot - or earshot - of someone washing their hands.
The second stall's door has a latch problem that has not been fixed in two months. The door is completely useless, and if you're ever forced to use the stall, you must keep one hand or foot against the door at all times to keep it from springing open. I challenge anyone to use the bathroom in this position. It's quite an acrobatic feat.
The third stall always seems to be lacking sufficient toilet paper. I can't figure it out, because there never seems to be anyone in this stall. But I'm not about to ask anyone to "spare a square."
The final stall is pure paradise. It is the farthest stall from the door. The stall door actually locks. The lighting is dim, not harsh. The toilet paper is always fully-stocked. And, quite often, there are magazines and newspapers available for reading (and, I imagine, in desparate times, they could be used to wipe your ass). The Fourth Stall is every man's dream. While it has not been formally proven, I've heard that men spend an average of 37 minutes at a time in the Fourth Stall. And when I have to use the bathroom and the fourth stall is not open, I leave the bathroom and come back later in the hopes that I can share in the great paradise of the fourth stall.
Now I must excuse myself.