Four jobs ago, I worked at a location that had generally inadequate bathroom stalls. One of them entirely lacked the lock on the stall throughout my entire tenure there, meaning that sometimes taking this (metaphorical) position wasn’t optional. Everyone avoided that stall when possible, but there weren’t always other choices.
Fortunately it was a smaller stall, unlike the one pictured, so taller people could brace the door manually, but not everyone had the endurance or reach for that. In fact I once, in a moment of desperation, was convinced no one was in there and burst into it to the mutual surprise of the unexpected occupant and myself. (Totally my fault.)
Leaning into the stall to close the door for their subsequent privacy was one of the more awkward experiences of my life.
After my last few posts I’m in a sentimental mood. I’m gonna tell a barely related story.
Apparently, when my mother was a kid some seventy to eighty years ago, her sisters had a stalker. As a result, their parents switched the rooms of their daughters. (Probably not the approach I would take, but since I didn’t exist at this point I wasn’t consulted.) My mom got a new room but was understandably worried about the stalker. She talked to her adopted sister - whom she liked much better than her biological ones - about her fears, saying “what if I wake up and he’s at the window, staring at me? What would you do?”
The sister in question said “I’d stare right back at him!”
So, for the third time in my lemmy career, one time very recent: thanks for reminding me of my mom. Most recently I said thanks for doing so in an unconventional manner, but at this point I’m inclined to say thank you for reminding me she was unconventional.
Four jobs ago, I worked at a location that had generally inadequate bathroom stalls. One of them entirely lacked the lock on the stall throughout my entire tenure there, meaning that sometimes taking this (metaphorical) position wasn’t optional. Everyone avoided that stall when possible, but there weren’t always other choices.
Fortunately it was a smaller stall, unlike the one pictured, so taller people could brace the door manually, but not everyone had the endurance or reach for that. In fact I once, in a moment of desperation, was convinced no one was in there and burst into it to the mutual surprise of the unexpected occupant and myself. (Totally my fault.)
Leaning into the stall to close the door for their subsequent privacy was one of the more awkward experiences of my life.
You should have stood there, staring them in the eyes. Waiting.
In this case, I was the intruder. Had I been the one who was interrupted, I might have considered that strategy.
As the intruder, that’s what you should have done. Waited your turn
After my last few posts I’m in a sentimental mood. I’m gonna tell a barely related story.
Apparently, when my mother was a kid some seventy to eighty years ago, her sisters had a stalker. As a result, their parents switched the rooms of their daughters. (Probably not the approach I would take, but since I didn’t exist at this point I wasn’t consulted.) My mom got a new room but was understandably worried about the stalker. She talked to her adopted sister - whom she liked much better than her biological ones - about her fears, saying “what if I wake up and he’s at the window, staring at me? What would you do?”
The sister in question said “I’d stare right back at him!”
So, for the third time in my lemmy career, one time very recent: thanks for reminding me of my mom. Most recently I said thanks for doing so in an unconventional manner, but at this point I’m inclined to say thank you for reminding me she was unconventional.