RESTROOM ARCHITECTURE

The design of the restroom in my office building is quite peculiar. Notably the individual stalls. There are four of them in total, each with a 10 foot high door. No joke. Each stall has a swinging, plantation-shutter styled door that goes from floor to ceiling. On second thought, make that 12 feet. Another idiosyncrasy: each of these doors is fully equipped with a push-button handle lock as well as a deadbolt which when turned to the lock position displays the word OCCUPIED in red letters. When said deadbolt is not bolted, the door says VACANT on the other side. I can peacefully relieve my bowels with the utmost assurance that no one without a pickaxe can walk in on me. But this comfort comes at a high price… does anyone else see the catastrophe that could potentially occur because of such irresponsible architectural oversights?
What if I were a man? And what if I worked with other men in the age bracket of, say, early twenties. Let’s just say I really needed to go. Like, “go”, you know? So I’d walk down to the men’s room eager for a brief respite from abdominal and or intestinal stresses. I would turn the handle of the first door I see only to find, that although the door clearly advertises a VACANT toilet-it must be, in fact, occupied for I cannot open the door! And so I try the next VACANT stall as well, only to find myself dismayed once again as I cannot enter. With increasing frustration I’d dance uncomfortably to each of the six stalls welcoming me with a green VACANT placard only to be repeatedly let down.
It’s just wrong. I hope that architect’s contract has expired and he can’t find work. What a sick sense of humor.