The office building in which I work has two sets of facilities, one upstairs and one downstairs. Several times a day, the housekeeping staff cleans these facilities, for which we are all immensely grateful.
BUT, they completely block access to the restrooms while cleaning up. Which means, we downstairs folks must go upstairs to take care of business, and vice versa. I don’t mind climbing the stairs, and though inconvenient, it’s not far out of the way. The odd part of all this is that our custodial team works in pairs: one man and one woman. And they clean the restroom of their respective gender, simultaneously.
So, a lady in the ladies’ room denies access to all other ladies who need to avail themselves of the facilities. Likewise with a gentleman in the men’s room. It’s just bizarre.
Anyway, I told you all that to tell you this*:
The upstairs ladies’ room has warmer water than the downstairs restroom. But, the automatic towel dispenser in the downstairs is more generous with the paper towels. So, it’s hot water and tiny little towels or cold water and big towels. Also, the downstairs has passive-aggressive toilets.
It’s always an adventure because you never know when the housekeeping staff is going to block the entrance. You’re either going to end up with cold, wet hands or a cold, wet bum.
*That line right there is proof that I was born in Texas, a child of a storyteller. Because in the South, it is perfectly acceptable to tell lead-in stories, however loosely connected (or completely unrelated) it might seem to be.