None of us like it.
Proclaimed Barky, a shambling upright otter of a woman.
Yes, it's not right. We can't be expected to put up with this?
Almost shouted Burton. His face reddening with the stress of having to state his position on something.
Ah don't think that we should have to go through this. It's just wokery gone mad.
Exclaimed Wee Yellow bitterly as he cast his jaundiced eyes around the room.
I shook my head. I knew Wee Yellow would have an opinion as he was nicknamed Wee Yellow due to his penchant for incessantly spouting utter pish in meetings.
El-Jefe muttered to himself and jotted down a note at the front of the meeting room where he wobbled, somewhat awkwardly like a blancmange made of lard.
Folks. I need something more concrete than just "you don't like it." What don't we like and I can take it to HR?
He was talking about the toilets. More specifically the toilets in our shiny new office block which, in keeping with all things modern, were unisex. As in, there were ten cubicles that locked and you could use any one you liked.
Which suited me fine, I am an equal opportunities toileter. I don't mind where my shit goes. However, it was causing ructions with the more puritanical of my work colleagues who were acting as if they were being asked to wee in a transparent cylinder in the middle of the office.
What if a man just came into your cubicle?!
Yelped Barky indignantly and perhaps not a little hopefully.
I think that is why the doors have locks.
I interjected whilst thinking - you should be so fucking lucky.
What if you lock it and they come in anyway?!
She brayed spittily, fixing each of us in the room in turn with an accusing glare.
I cocked an eyebrow, I didn't think there would be many takers for forcing their way into her cubicle to watch her do a shit. Then my gaze sidled over to El-Jefe... Well, I suppose you can never be too sure.
El-Jefe shivered as if reading my mind and seeing himself helpless underneath Barky's HairWolf.
What about you Boomster? This is a meeting to address the concerns over the conveniences. You have been very quiet. Don't you have anything to say?
El-Jefe looked at me pleadingly for support.
Hmm, I do have a couple of issues I would like to raise.
I nodded the nod of a wise man who ponders such ineffabilities as is cottage cheese actually nob cheese? and if so how do they make it in such bulk? Perhaps there were large warehouses of disenfranchised young men, producing for the mass market?
Life is weird sometimes.
The first is that we all know how messy women are with their peeing, flobbing it around the seat like a burst hydrant. I mean, I don't really fancy going in a cubicle after that.
There was a sharp intake of breath from those in the room but I ploughed on regardless.
Secondly, I hope the ladies are aware that this is a workplace and we have to be professional at all times. That means no leering or pawing at us handsome men when we visit the lavatoire.
There, I had said it. I folded my arms and looked expectantly at the room.
El-Jefe sighed and shook his head.
Ok, noted.
He then started to recite a long pre-prepared statement from HR about toilets and mental health.
Everyone listened intently. Even Wee Yellow.
I humphed. I had expected a bit more of a stooshie than that.
Damn, I will have to try harder.
