I have a pet peeve I’ve been wanting to air for some time now. It’s about bathroom etiquette. The ladies room on our floor is fairly decent; it has three stalls, three sinks, hand soap, a hand dryer, a wide expanse of mirror, ample room for girly ministrations.
What I don’t understand is, there are girls who go into the stalls, do their business, and then walk merrily out the door. Without washing their hands. And don’t tell me they just re-aligned their slips or thongs or bra straps inside the stalls, I always hear them tinkling in there, hello!
Sometimes I find myself almost calling out to a wayward girl as she streaks towards the door. Yes, you with the flared denims and the boy shirt, aren’t you forgetting something? Good hygiene, anyone?
Imagine the germs! Just think, those hands—they clasp doorknobs, printer surfaces, desks, chairs, elevator buttons, pantry shelves, refrigerator handles—with impunity.
What do I need to do around here, wear surgical gloves?