The Mighty Porcelain Sea

I hate hate HATE the toilet here at work. Every time I need to sit down is an adventure. Why, you ask? Sit back and let me tell ye a tale.

The toilet is equipped with an automatic flusher. "That's great", you may think. Not so fast. It is nice to not have to touch a disgusting handle to flush it. The problem is, the thing is just too damned sensitive. Most of the time it flushes on my approach. Normally premature flushulation wouldn't be a big deal, right? A fresh pot to sully is just a pipe dream for most public toilet-goers. This particular toilet's flush, however, is unruly. It is way too powerful. So much so that it splashes water all over the seat, which then requires wiping down prior to descent (and may kick off a second flush). Is that kind of aquatic violence really necessary? Were the engineers thinking, "If Superman plops a few we need enough gusto to power away his Turds of Steel^TM"?

The flush not only turns the toilet into a boiling cauldron, but it lasts way too long. Who needs a 24-second flush (yes, I timed it)? That could present a serious dilemma in an emergency. Do I sit and get soaked, or wait it out and risk ruining my pants? That's a game-time decision, my friends.

So in an attempt to avoid this, I have come up with an approach strategy that works about 80% of the time: forward to stall entrance, sidestep right, turn left 90 degrees, sidestep right, turn left 90 degrees, prepare pants, sidestep right, drop pants, ... I mean really, what am I doing, taking a dump or getting 30 extra lives in Contra? It's like the toilet is the Soup Nazi and if I don't approach and order just so, "No poop for you!"