The Postman's Office

There are several mail carriers who use the men's room at the Institute. But one in particular has turned it into his lounge. He comes in at least twice a day and will stay in there for 30 minutes. On several occasions guys have come out of the office and asked, I feel like in 30 minutes you can do just about anything you need to get done in a bathroom plus do your taxes. But whatever. Except that sometimes he comes in just before I'm about to leave. And then I have to wait 30 minutes for him to get done. And it's not like I can just poke my head in and call time.  I guess I can, that's just awkward. But again, it's not that big a deal.

For me, that is. But apparently it's a big deal for the United States Postal Service. A guy with an official looking badge on a lanyard came in and said, "Tell me about the postal worker who uses your bathroom all the time. The one who camps out in there." So this guy is a route inspector and he'd been working with the carrier all morning and he spilled all the juicy details. It was only 11 and already the guy had stopped in at the Institute twice, and had parked under a shady tree to play a game on his phone, calling it his lunch break. All while the inspector was with him. Which seems like such a boneheaded move. He'd been on the job for 3 hours and half of the time had been spent not delivering mail. And bonus, we're not even on his route. He's not our postman. Our postman zips in and out like a speedy ghost in the night. I barely have time to yell thank you to him as he's running out the door. So this other postman goes out of his way to use our facilities, presumably because it's a nice bathroom that has air conditioning and what must be the world's most comfortable toilet seat.