Dear Lisa:

I need to tell you about the bathroom war at 3000 Chestnut Ave.

Backstory:  [I work] in the Mill Center, with about 10 offices per floor (and a public bathrooms with 3 stalls each). It is an unwritten rule that you don't go to other floors' bathrooms (you get obnoxious looks from people wearing all-black).

I've noticed a bit of “seat-sprinkling”- I thought that was just part of the burden of womanhood, just move to the next stall and get on with your life. Someone on the 4th floor does not agree.

The first note was relatively polite, if cloying-- a little yellow sticky placed on the inside of the stall door: "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be polite and wipe the seat." I was struck by its failure to follow the rhyming couplet convention of such notes (isn't it usually "please be neat and wipe the seat"?) which is the only reason it stayed in my mind.

When I returned from the holidays, the note was gone.

The next day, a wide strip of white paper was attached to the inside of the stall with packing tape. On it, in capital Copperplate bold (clue #1: we know she is not a designer- Copperplate is so 1987), this bit of poetry:

IF YOU CAN'T WIPE OFF THE SEAT AFTER YOU'VE PEED ALL OVER IT/ THEN YOU DESERVE TO "GO" OUTSIDE WITH THE REST OF THE/ ANIMALS. IT'S WHERE YOU BELONG. YOU WILL BE DISCOVERED SOON.

Everyone at [my office] is intrigued by this exchange, and eagerly awaiting further developments. The strip was removed yesterday and I was sad that I hadn't brought in a camera...

...but then I discovered it sticking to the outside of the trash bin this morning!! I wasted no time, and now it is exhibit A in my Project Pee-Pee Seat file. I don't usually do unhygienic things like this, but I think you'll agree the germs were well worth it.

So the point is, [my co-worker] and I want to start a war: I suggested tacking up a note that says, "Yeah, bitch? You think you can stop me?? Meet me at 12 noon in the parking lot!" but then thought better of it.

Can [your] resident comic genius be of any assistance?

Yours,

Sally

Dear Sally,

The way I see it, you have three options:

OPTION 1: Place a time-lapse camera in the bathroom with a fish-eye lens to capture not only the Sprinkler, but the Scribbler as well. (Ten to one the Sprinkler is faking it--she's got a spray bottle filled with apple juice and is just decorating the seat to "inspire" the Scribbler.)

OPTION 2: Relocate your desk to the ladies room and do some serious research.

OPTION 3: Pee on ALL of the seats, EVERYDAY. This will so enrage the Scribbler that she'll either publish a book of grievances (and tape it to each stall) or she'll go ape-shit in the lavatory and then, after you find her teeth mark impressions and clumps of pulled out hair everywhere, she should be fairly easy to identify.

DO keep me posted.

Good luck,

Lisa

Dear Lisa,

The committee has not yet reached a conclusion, but so far #3 looks most feasible. We love #3, except we're going to do it with spray bottles of water. You've spawned quite a discussion...

Until more detailed conclusions can be reached,

Sally

Dear Lisa:

Well…you have e-mailed me with requests for updates. Upsettingly enough, things seemed to reach their zenith with the "piss like an animal in the woods" note.

However, it turns out that the "troubles" continued behind the scenes.Public humiliation was eschewed in favor of taking it up with the building authorities.

Today I innocently strolled into the ladies room only to find small shavings of wood and plaster all over the floor. Understandably, I was as confused as I was alarmed.

Try as I might, I could find no source to explain these particles. Then, with trepidation, I entered  the stall, where I saw a freshly installed toilet bib (seat protective cover? I prefer the term toilet bib) dispenser drilled to the wall above the potty. I walked into the 2nd stall and saw the same thing. Third stall, same again.

Like the seasoned sleuth I am, I deduced the following:

Option A> The Accuser made this exact demand of the management, and they took it. The Accuser is then not very bright. How effective is a micron-thick piece of tissue against someone's copious bodily fluids? Instead of the shock of sitting in pee-pee, you can now feel the pain of peeling a wet and clingy toilet bib off your ass. Sign me up! For me, as a habitual seat-wiper and nest maker, this addition to the bathroom arsenal does nothing to improve my standard of living.

Option B> The Accuser complained copiously, and Management did a feasibility study on addressing her concerns, and this was what they came up with. I have to be honest, this is the explanation I am rooting for. Because imagine The Accuser's reaction when she walks in to the bathroom and finds this. If you are unbalanced enough to stick Kevin-Spacey-in-'Se7en' notes onto bathroom doors with packing tape, you may just become completely unglued at the perceived "fuck-you" contained in this "solution."

I must add one more thing, which is that of the three available stalls, #3 has been out of commission due to an uncloseable and swingy door for the past 4 months. I find it troubling that the management is able to install three toilet bib dispensers at the drop of a hat, but can't fix a lock.

Don't deny that this would be a great movie. I'm thinking of a female Kevin Spacey character in Se7en. There would be dead bodies in the bathroom when you walk in, and scrawled on their decapitated heads would be phrases like "SEAT PISSER" "TOILET CLOGGER" and "DIDN'T WASH HANDS BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK." I think it could work- the seven deadly sins of bathroom etiquette. "TALKED TO ME WHILE I WAS TRYING TO PEE."  "PUT FILTHY PURSE ON THE SINK."

OH I almost forgot to mention I think I had a run-in with the Accuser! It was about 2 weeks ago. I was changing for my yoga class in one of the stalls, and I had left my purse on the sink counter (there are 2) while I changed. This woman came in as I exited the stall. I went to go put my work clothes into my bag and she glared at me and my purse furiously. I raised my eyebrows inquisitively, and the words exploded out of her mouth: "This is not a locker room!" I got out of there in a hurry.

 Who [else] thinks this is the Accuser?

--Sally

Dearest Sally,

While you do have a strong case against this toilet goer, all of your evidence is merely circumstantial. You have a good hunch, but no proof that she has been the mystery "note writer” (aka: The Scribbler).  True, her over-protectiveness of the ladies' room seems odd. I mean, how could changing your clothes in there possibly be WORSE than using the room to make poopy-doop?  And--most importantly--why does this woman CARE?

If you hadn't been paralyzed with fear, you might have thought to strike up a conversation with her: "Oh, yeah? If you think what I'm doing is bad, how about the person who goes tinkle all over the seats?"  She might be too cunning to fall into that trap, but then again, the potty zone is obviously very near and dear to her heart. She might have been DYING for someone to ask her opinion on the subject.  Or, you could have tried to antagonize her. After she informed you that you had mistaken the restroom for a locker room, you could have retorted: "Mind your beeswax!"  If she IS The Scribbler, she would have become threatened and would have felt compelled to defend her "territory". She would have told you exactly how it WAS her beeswax to mind.

A lot of women grow overly fond of their toilet zones. Though this woman you ran into was obviously  a strange bird in her own right, it's not clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she's The Scribbler/Accuser. HOWEVER, should you return to find a note saying "This facility is for pee-pee and poo-poo ONLY (and possibly the application of make up). If you have to change your clothes, do it in a LOCKER ROOM with the rest of the animals!!" then she's your girl, hands down.

As always, keep me posted.

Sincerely,

lisa