My production office is small. It’s really just big enough for the office staff itself; the writers, accountants, and everybody else are in other bungalows elsewhere on the lot. We don’t even have space for separate women’s and men’s bathrooms, just two, regular ol’ house-type bathrooms that everyone shares.
And therein lies the problem.
Some men have decided that being repeatedly asked to put the toilet seat down is an affront to their masculinity. And certain women have taken this as an opportunity to put their gender studies classes to good use and cry, “Misogyny!”
And I’m in the middle, wishing they’d both shut up and get back to work.
One guy said, “You want the seats down, we want the seats up. Why should your convenience count more than ours?”
While I appreciate the desire for equal treatment, the math doesn’t work out. Half of the office always needs the seat down, half needs the seat down some smaller percentage of the time. I don’t know what that percentage is, but if it’s non-zero, then there’s a better than even chance the next person in the bathroom will need the seat down.
The obvious solution is to put the damn seat down and stop bitching about it. It’s not that hard. ‘Course, some dude is going to forget (or be an asshole), and leave the seat up.
So I say to the women who are complaining about falling in: Why the fuck are you not looking where you set your bare ass and genitals? Have you never seen Ghoulies?
Jesus Christ, yes, I’d like to expect the boys to put the seat down, too, but… have you met boys? Lower your expectations a little.
And lastly, don’t just put down the seat; close the lid, too. We don’t live in a goddamn cave.