Life on The Pharm: Boundaries

Back to the office once again for more stories. I often wonder how it is that people can have such different boundaries. Just because I believe that something is acceptable doesn't mean that you will and vice-versa. This is how we end up having problems with close talkers or people who feel that it's acceptable to hug anyone and everyone. Unfortunately, sometimes these boundary-crossings happen in the workplace, to make things even worse, sometimes they happen in the bathroom.

I was just finishing up washing my hands and preparing to leave the restroom one day recently when a coworker walked in. As he passed me, we exchanged the obligatory "Hey. Howyadoin'?" I went to the paper towel dispenser, and began drying my hands. Then, as he entered a stall, he decided to address me again. Now this is not a, simple "seeya later, have a nice day" type of thing on his way into the stall, but instead he entered a stall while asking me a question, shut the door, dropped trou, sat down and waited for an answer (I'm guessing that's not all he was doing while sitting there, but contemplating the reality of the situation is far too disturbing for me). This was not some sort of question pertaining to work that had to be answered at that very moment. It was a question about the upcoming NBA draft. Typically, I don't mind discussing the professional prospects of various college basketball players, but when the other party is sitting on a toilet, I don't feel that it is the appropriate time for that (or any) conversation. Feeling rather awkward (i.e. wishing to be anywhere other than where I was at that moment) I answered the question and tried to leave. No such luck. From the stall came the disembodied voice again with a follow-up question. At this point I was left with two options, be incredibly rude and follow my instincts which were telling me to run screaming out of the bathroom or stand there carrying on a conversation with the toilet-bound colleague. I eventually opted for the middle ground, replying as briefly as succinctly as possible and exiting immediately upon ending my sentence, preventing any opportunity for continued conversation. To put it mathematically: Defecation+Conversation=Abomination. Boundaries, people, boundaries.

So for all of my readers out there, file this away for future reference: If your naked posterior is currently in contact with porcelain, I do not wish to converse with you. When you are done, fully clothed and have washed your hands, come see me and I'll be more than willing to talk. Chances are, I might be able to concentrate on the subject a little bit better, as I won't have to dedicate 75% of my brain power to figure out how to escape.

Until later...