Writing on the door

I may not have written about it, but there’s something that’s puzzled me about my female colleagues. I need to preface this by noting that this is an employee set of highly educated (my guess is that—while there are a few people without a bachelor’s degree, there are so many with masters’ and doctoral degrees in rigorous scientific disciplines,  the average number of years of schooling would probably be around 17 years), and I’d have thought that basic hygiene practices would have gone without saying.

However, I’d be wrong, because every once in a while, I’ll be in one of the stalls in the ladies’ loo and I’ll hear the toilet in another stall flush, the door open…and then the exit door open. Meaning: no washing of hands.

I’d find this a little creepy at a dive bar at 11pm on a Saturday. In a building full of recovering research scientists it just leaves me gobsmacked.

However, it turns out there’s more. Because last week I began noticing used paper towels tossed on the floor—around the room, not even near the rubbish bin, where someone might have chucked them on her way out without noticing she’d missed. And, also: scraps of toilet paper.

Remember: not a dive bar on a Saturday, a professional workplace full of women who understand the relationship between litter and disease.

Well, interestingly, someone decided to Take Action, because when I went in yesterday morning, I found this message taped to the door of each stall:

Personally, I’d imagine that anyone who has to be asked not to trash the place probably isn’t going to pay any attention to the request, but I shall keep you apprised if this does the trick.