Talking to your coworkers is already kind of a minefield, because you never really know what's okay and what's overly familiar. That line become infinitely more complicated when both you and your coworker each have your dicks out. Even worse is when someone decides to yell some small talk at you from across a stall. Not talking is not an option because that comes out as rude, but talking is...well it's weird and unpleasant. Unfortunately, some people don't realize that just because you CAN talk doesn't mean you should, and that sometimes leads to unpleasantness.
It's never a secret what anyone is doing in the bathroom but...well, it's nice to pretend that there's some mystery there. When you enter a stall, you like to think that people aren't sure if you're doing a number 1 or a number 2, and even though that's not actually the case, the delusion provides you with a certain level of comfort. If you're using a men's room, though, there's one scenario in which you don't have any plausible deniability about your intentions: When you walk into poop only to find that urinals are open but stalls are not. You open the bathroom door to an instant defeat, and you're instantly forced to do a walk of shame back to your desk. Granted, probably nobody even watching what takes place, but it still feels like all eyes are on you and it sucks.
Shitting is the great equalizer of man. No matter how much more successful than you someone is, you can always take solace in the fact that at some point they will have to squat over a hole and push something smell out of their butt. In that way you are the same. Unfortunately, in an office setting this isn't always a good thing. The hierarchy of the workplace is a necessary evil and without it there is nothing but chaos. Seeing one of your superiors at their weakest throws the whole system out of whack, and makes you feel like you've made a horrible mistake.
Bathrooms are gross and, like I said earlier, the stalls may give the illusion of privacy but they don't really hide much. For starters, the one inch thick layer of plastic does nothing to quell the sounds, some of which are deeply horrifying. Even if you don't know who is making the noises, it's still upsetting knowing that one of colleagues is capable of replicating the sound of Chef Boyardee being squeezed out of a water balloon with their buttocks. If, God forbid, whoever it is going whole hog on the toilet bowl reveals themselves before you have time to wash your hands, it's just about the worst feeling in the world. I've never witnessed a murder before, but I imagine that it's the same basic gist.
Everything I said in the last section of reverse. For the good of your bowels you have to hold make some unpleasant noises, but you're embarrassed about doing it because of judgmental assholes like me. So you hold it. You keep your butt clenched tight, waiting for the people in the stalls on either side of you to leave so you can let it all go. It hurt.
Clogging the toilet is shameful, but it happens. Sometimes it's unavoidable and that's life. What is avoidable is making a mess of the toilet. Sometimes you walk into a stall and it's been mangled. Someone not only left their dump unflushed, but also somehow covered the seat in piss and unspooled an entire roll of toilet paper, dunked it in a bucket of water and threw it all around the stall. The situation is not upsetting just because it's gross. It's upsetting knowing that you're working alongside a monster capable of such heinous acts.
I don't know why it's annoying, but it is. Keep that shit at home.