Stall Etiquette

Okay, so i'm in the bathroom at work. i'm in my stall, doin my bidness... and someone comes into the bathroom. click, click, click... i hear the heels so i know someone's there. she's crying. i can hear the sniffling and the deep breaths. it's not sobbing, not big boo-hoos, just a little office crying, broken up with a few deep breaths--like "okay, get your shit together" deep breaths. and i'm listening. i'm done with what i'm doing. but ... i can't just walk out tucking my tank into my skirt... ta-da! i heard you crying. i'm just going to wash my hands and pretend i dont' see you there blowing your nose.

i can't do that.

so i sit. and she goes into a stall and pulls some toilet paper. at this point, i realize she doesn't know anyone else is in there. so now i'm paranoid about making noise. about that time it hits me that i need some toilet paper. silent toilet paper unrolling is a little-known skill of mine. it's a chick thing. why do we not want anyone to know that we poo? have you ever been in the stall with your poo-time and someone comes into the bathroom and time stops? you sit there, holding your poo (or worse -- your poot!), waiting for sally someone to pee and pull up her pantyhose and get the flock out of there so you can poo in peace? what is it about chicks and silent poo syndrome? blog fodder for another day.

so i sit.
sounds like she's about stabilized by now and then the stampede hits--quarter til five bathroom rush. with all the hub-ub, no sense in me sitting there trying to avoid her be polite.... i get out of there with little more than a "glad monday's over" from the chick at the sinks and i'm free.

yet i'm left to wonder -- why do we hesitate to let someone know we're there... when they might need us?

even if just to spare a square.