Our submitter, Amanda, occasionally skates at an ice arena where an NHL and several college hockey teams practice. As a result, she says, “it smells like sweaty feet all of the time” — and apparently, most visible surfaces are also covered with spit.

Adds Amanda: “My favorite parts of this note are a) the awesome word art, and b) the idea that they have to stop spitting on the walls only because of recent health concerns.”

related: My boss spits his chew in my trash can!

Writes our submitter in Sydney, Australia: “There’s one guy in our office who comes from a cultural background where a good hearty cough/hack/spit is de rigueur, and he brings that little bit of culture to the office with him. I find it amusing, but apparently not everyone feels the same way.”

But wait, there’s more! Within a few hours of spotting the first note in the office men’s room, our submitter noticed a second one had joined it.

Now if I only I could snap my fingers and get Mr. or Ms. Water-Cooler Wee-Wee transferred to this office…

related: What is up with the coughing?!

Writes Matt in Los Angeles: “I went to get some of the 2% milk I keep in our communal work fridge for my coffee, and BAM! — front and center was this lovely.”

related: And I’m singing “uh oh” on a Friday night

Though the issue might not be top of mind for sophisticated and urbane readership of this website, let this serve as your warning: Should you find yourself in, say, Fayetteville, Arkansas (like Melissa, a California expat currently attending the U of A) you’ll soon realize how important it is to lay down the law with regard to proper cud disposal.

Of course, when you live as far north as Baltimore and notice that your boss has taken to spitting chaw in your trash can, the situation becomes that much more dire.

related: evidently, yes

Spotted by Cara at a laundromat in Ucluelet, British Columbia…

related: It’s Pat!

How’d you like to be flatmates with Dianne in London? Cos I’m thinking there just might be an opening soon…

related: clarifying motion #2

From an anonymous heathen in Washington, D.C.:

related: It must have been a pretty big bite

Ellen in Acton, Mass. spotted this on the suggestion board at her gym.

At least they don’t have a Mad Bomber on the loose…yet.

re: “You left evidence”, Good Soul says:

In 2001, I solved a “disappearing food” problem without these little notes. For some time (3 weeks or so), I bought some very nice food, put my name on it with a “do not touch — not for human consumption!” sign, and watched it disappear. I also found out about the fine taste of the thief – sugar was high in the rank. So on a random day, I placed a box of very nice sugar treats with the same sign, in the same place, and — as expected — it disappeared pretty soon. That was 9-10AM. By 2PM, the horse laxative I put in the food made two co-workers abandon the office in a hurry, only to spend the next 24 to 48 hours in the hospital.

Nothing was ever said (it could lead to lawsuit). If needed, I would claim the treats where for my horses, and “not for human consumption” — notice a similarity? I immediately stopped eating the food I left behind, just in case they thought of doing the same. Somehow, food never disappeared again. Next time I would use ink — permanent ink — just in case the idiots choose the lawsuit option.

re: “I swear this isn’t some kind of stealth viral marketing campaign”, LQP says:

Back in the day when I worked at a public library somebody stole my Hot Pockets. I responded by writing this passive-aggressive haiku (or something similar, I can’t recall it exactly) and posting it on the fridge:

Dear Hot Pocket Thief:
I hope that it tastes like guilt,
So hot and delish

The next day there was a note from the Hot Pocket thief who was profuse in his/her apology, as well as two new replacement boxes of hot pockets. I felt really terrible despite it all, and attempt to curb any passive aggressive behavior from myself.

re:“I spit in mine”, briggs says:

Where I used to work, there was this guy who would drink from anothers guy drink when he left the room. One time he place his drink on a napkin and wrote: “I spit in this”. When he got back somebody else had written “So did I!”