A half a century ago, the college where I work was a male-only college. Partly as a lingering consequence of that history, the building where I work has exactly one restroom on each floor: women are odd and men are even. I like to joke that all the female mathematicians know all the historians, and all of the male historians know the mathematicians. (This leads to funny euphemisms: one of our job candidates once told me, "Er, I'd like to go visit the history department.")
Alternating-floor restrooms are unusual enough, but the situation has been all the odder because the Powers That Be decided all signs should be as discrete as possible. And so new people to the building have a terrible time finding a restroom. Because we're a college with a new set of classes each semester, we're constantly getting a new set of confused and antsy people asking us for directions to a place that ought to be easier to find.
So last week, emboldened by my happy kitchen labeling*, I decided to what-the-heck make some visible labels that let people actually see where the restroom is from afar, and direct them to the other floors if that's what the situation calls for.
* My daughter asked, "Mom, did you buy a label machine?",
but I'd just made them on the computer. And my husband heard
that I'd planned for the labels to be temporary, but said he
hoped I'd leave them indefinitely. I'm feeling label love here, folks.
|A sign that sticks out into the hallway,|
so you can see the sign from far away.
|A small sign underneath the women's sign, |
directing men to the even floors.
As long as I was on a labeling tear, I decided to add signs to the water fountains, too. (These are, not intuitively, stuck in alcoves at the opposite ends of the buildings from the restrooms, and are even less visible than the restrooms, if that's even possible).
|Water fountain! It's hard to find a clip art logo for this, actually.|