I am not now, nor have I ever been, a turd burglar

This week, a co-worker accused potty blogger of being a turd burglar.

There are many definitions, but my accuser’s claim was that on Monday of this week, I entered the third floor men’s room, saw that the penthouse stall was occupied and then slipped into the stall of last resort to conduct my business.

That’s right. My crime: making a transaction while a co-worker was in the middle of one himself.

Let’s be clear, I did not try to use the same stall as my co-worker. I did not barge in and say, “I must make my deposit in here, right now. Please stand aside.” No, I used a separate stall all together--and even left the Peter Brady stall vacant as a buffer between us.

But my accuser is part of a small (but vocal) minority that believes if you see a co-worker using ANY of the stalls, you should politely excuse yourself and travel to another floor. They believe that the very act of sitting down while another gentlemen is mid-business, robs the first gentleman of the ability to perform. Thus “the turd” has been “burgled.”

This belief is akin to those remote tribesmen who believe that having their picture taken results in the loss of their soul--it is, of course, ridiculous, but different cultures must be respected.

However, respect is one thing and tyranny is quite another. When a small group begins to lob charges of turd burgling willy-nilly, it smacks of McCarthyism. The mere act of accusing someone of stealing your ability to BM creates an atmosphere of fear and distrust.

My grandfather fought in WWII. My father served in the National Guard. I...work in a very challenging professional environment and sometimes have to be in front of my computer for several hours. My people have EARNED the right to make a number two when they want, where they want.

You do not need to fear me. I do not want to steal your turd. Poop in peace, my friend. We are brothers and we both want the same thing.