I am curious to know how a recent Honduran immigrant as yourself is able to ascertain my bodily functions at a subconscious level that you always position yourself in the men's bathroom when I need to use the facility. This technique of yours to skillfully block the men's room door with your cart of cleaning supplies at the precise moment that my bladder reaches an uncomfortable level is mindboggling.
What I can't understand is how flexible you can be in your cleaning schedule. Now, as far as I can reckon, each cleaning service personnel is required to clean various sections of each floor of our building at specific times. Except, apparently, the 10th floor men's bathroom. 9:45am? You're there, cleaning away. 11:46am for that pre-lunch pee? You're knee-deep in the stalls. 1:12pm for a post-lunch cleaning? You're refilling the paper towels. 3:20pm - let me check. I'll be dammned - you're scrubbing out a sink.
How long does it take to clean a damned three stall bathroom with a bunch of military officers and contractors? We're as clean as men get - I've never seen a stray puddle, so I don't know why you treat it like an EPA Superfund site.
I've timed you. 25 minutes to replace three rolls of toilet paper? 31 minutes, 18 seconds, to wash three sinks? I'll go buy you some Scrubbing Bubbles if you'd just hurry the hell up. When a man has to pee, extra seconds, let alone minutes, are critical.
It's even more amazing that you can synchronize your cleaning schedule with my urine, but, apparently, you can do it with my coworker Will, too.
We've been polite; allowing you your privacy in our privy without being accosted by penises. But the gloves are off - today, YOU USED ONE OF THE COMMODES!!! What were you thinking? The women's room is right next door - how could you not think "Hmm... I should use the women's room." Especially when it was empty, and there were guys already IN the Men's room.
In 2006, I'm whipping mine out.