In one of my clearest memories of first grade, I distinctly remember my teacher telling us, on the first day of school, that the bathroom in the back of the classroom was only for emergencies. For non-emergencies, we’d have to wait until lunchtime. In my six-year-old mind, however, “emergency” meant only one thing: “throwing up.”  And so, when I had to go, I held it. And held it. Until…well, I wasn’t holding it anymore.

That’s right: It actually took wetting my pants for me to learn that the word “emergency” means very different things to different people — a concept some people apparently still haven’t figured out.

It’s unclear, for example, what might constitute a “citrus emergency” at this Pleasanton, California optometrist’s office. (Perhaps a masochistic mandarin peeling itself?)

You might think people would be a little more precise in their language on a military base. At Arizona’s Fort Huachuca, you’d only be about half right.

At Gustavo’s new office building in Seattle, it only took about a week — and about a bazillion false alarms— before someone decided a little clarification was necessary. (Sorta sounds like something you’d expect from a classroom of first-graders, no?)

Meanwhile, Andrew in Cirencester, England only noticed this sign after pushing open one of his office’s alarmed fire doors (triggering a sudden and unforeseen occurrence — i.e., ear-shattering noise).

related: Gee, thanks for the clarification

These notes — the first from on office in California, the second from an office in Arkansas — both seem like they’re following the same not-quite-finished flowchart for acceptable office paper usage.

Really, you’re in for a scolding no matter what. And as our submitter Hannah noticed — in this bizarre exchange from the copy room at a school in Spartanburg, South Carolina — contrition only seems to further incense the office Paper Nazis.

related: Nothing fosters community like shared networked printers!

Our anonymous submitter in Rhode Island has the distinct privilege of working with a person “who writes policy like it’s a new religion.” On her orders, the IT department instituted a program that automatically locks down your computer after two minutes of activity, but apparently that wasn’t enough to satisfy this self-appointed office cop.

One day, after dashing over to pick up a document from the shared printer, our submitter returned to find this somewhat clumsy attempt at an object lesson. (From then on, our submitter vowed, she would never play so fast and loose with her computer’s font settings again.)

related: Paying through the spout

Frustrated by fridge thieves who continually ignore your polite (or not-so-polite) requests to keep their paws to themselves? Don’t get mad — get creative! You could end up with something so crazy it might actually work…that is, if it doesn’t totally backfire.

You could go for the classic bluff, with the hopes that you’ll inspire just enough self-doubt to encourage the thief to go for the next lunch bag over.

Or you could hold out hope that the thief in question is either very lazy, very stupid…

…or that he or she appreciates your twisted sense of humor enough to take mercy on your pathetic self.

Or you could just bring this for lunch. (Somehow, I think this would have been safe, even without the note.)

Thanks to Theresa in Birmingham, Alabama; Stacey in Manchester, New Hampshire; Alissa in Memphis, Tennessee; and Marianne in Dublin, Ireland for submitting!

related: That’s breastmilk!

Though your attention might have drifted ever so briefly, I’d like to reassure you that the ongoing debate over which restrooms (men’s or women’s) are the foulest continues to rage on — and yes, it’s as nauseating as ever!

I literally received these two submissions — the first from an EMT school in Massachusetts, the second from a non-profit in D.C. — within minutes of each other. Mere coincidence? Or a cosmic clue from the Internet gods that it was time for a showdown between “Angulated Rectum Guy” and “The Queen of Diahrriah?” Okay, that was a gimme. The real question: who would you rather share a loo with?

Exhibit A) as witnessed by Josh in Fall River, Mass.

Exhibit B) From an anonymous bystander in College Park, Maryland

related: And you thought college students were foul…

One reason that notes of the do this/move this/clean this variety inspire so much ire among recipients is the fact that, more often than not, writing the note probably took more time and effort than it would have for the writer to just do/move/clean it themselves. (But of course, to the martyrs in the office, it’s always about the principle of the thing.) Office kitchens seem to be ground zero for this particular type of pettiness.

At Jacqueline’s workplace in San Francisco, for example, “someone left a clean mug on an empty counter” — an offense that was apparently too grave for one coworker to let slide without comment.

Meanwhile, in Ohio, our anonymous submitter came into work one morning to see this note “on a table with maybe two crumbs on it.” Her solution? “I took the picture, put the cleaning supplies away, and moved the note. Later, I was thanked for cleaning the table.”

related: BAD SALAMI!

According to reports we’re receiving here at PAN headquarters, it appears that proletarians with a predilection for the chocolate-cookie-caramel confection known as Twix are battling Soviet-like conditions in order to procure their precious candy bars. 

In some areas, workers are forced to pay a hefty premium (unlike the bosses and bigwigs upstairs). 

Even then, what remains for the masses is likely to be rejected, bottom-of-the-carton stock.

And in the hardest hit areas, shortages have led hungry Twix lovers to beg for mercy from The Man himself. 

(Thanks to informants Sean in Philadelphia, Rachel in Salt Lake City, and Mark in Buffalo.)

related: Comrades, take notice!

extra credit: Twix bars unfairly taxed in Colorado? [WSJ.com]

Every day, you watch them, in horror: Those vile, germ-laden, nether-region-wiping creatures who don’t wash their hands after using the toilet. Confronting the offenders directly wouldn’t work, because, well, you’re passive-aggressive, and that’s just not how you roll. So what to do next?

Well, you could dazzle them with some accusatory statistics…

…or attempt to appeal to the altruists in the audience.

And maybe try to lure in the sports fans with the promise of some fun trivia!

If they see through that little scheme, you could try patronizing your patrons outright…

…or just straight-up treat them like four-year-olds. (“Did you wash your hands?” “Yes.” “DID YOU WASH YOUR HANDS?” “I said yes!!!”)

Perhaps even a dash of reverse psychology?

Of course, those less-straightforward techniques just might just backfire on you.  In that case, you could play the bully with THE CLIP ART THAT MUST BE STOPPED.

Or, if your clip-art collection is a bit larger…release the dragon!

Not scary enough? Maybe it’s time to bust out the F word.

Or the even scarier F-word: FECAL-ORAL.

And if that still doesn’t work? Well, I guess you’ll just have to flounce away, invest in some latex gloves, and vow to hold it ’til you get home.

(Thanks to Jen in Houston, Jenni in Spokane, Marley in Pittsburgh, Lindsey in Memphis, Laura in Richmond, and the many anonymous submitters for their contributions.)

related: Five approaches to toilet paper maintenance

extra credit:  “On Washing Hands,” by Atul Gawande

extra extra credit: “Maybe You Touched Your Genitals” Liquid Hand Soap