lavatory horror

It quickly came to my attention today regarding proper equipment in the men’s lavatory that has yet to be addressed. Most embarrassingly, and equally making me just as angry on a separate note, would be the utter disregard of personal privacy among men when encamped in toilet stalls engaged in private affairs of their own nature. Regardless of my natural reason for needing use of the station’s “high command” lavatory, it is commonly assumed, yet, I dare even say practiced among civilized officers to announce themselves when entering an area of such sensitivity by knocking, or so I thought.

I was already having enough trouble maintaining the stall door with one hand, seeing as how the door latch was broken again, all the while squatting as steadily as one can without risking a mess, when one of my Captains rushed through the main door causing a startling commotion that I was unprepared for. Given the sudden scare, I lost control of the door, which was now rendered fully open, exposing me slightly hovering over the toilet with my pants among my ankles and my left hand suddenly reaching to cover my man-hood. Although I knew what I was doing originally, apparently my semblance to the passing officer sent quite the opposite impression. He stopped, suddenly apologized for interrupting me, and then quickly backed himself out of the room without taking his eyes off of me… I never moved. I was so infuriated that I hunched there motionless for several minutes in my current state reeling about the impression left in that officer’s mind and the rumors that would soon follow… It's not enough that the stress of the last few weeks has become a serious problem with my irregularity, that now I shall have this to contend with, too. Needless to say, the one responsible for the faulty door latch will be found and properly delt with. For now, however, the main lavatory is reserved for my use only.