The Pregnant Woman and the Toilet: How Petty Institutional Control Reveals Institutional Character
A woman in Scotland worked in a small office. The office did not have a toilet. When she became pregnant, she needed to use the bathroom frequently — a biological reality of pregnancy. To access a toilet, she had to leave the office and go to a neighboring shop.
Her boss decided that these bathroom visits were too frequent. And the boss’s solution was not to install a toilet, or to acknowledge that pregnancy requires accommodation, or even to simply let the woman use the bathroom as needed. The boss’s solution was to start counting the visits — and deducting them from her break time and lunch time.
A pregnant woman. Walking to a neighboring shop. To use a toilet. Because her office did not have one. And her boss — rather than treating this as a basic accommodation — counted each visit. Monitored the frequency. And classified biological necessity as time theft.
This is not an aberration. This is a revelation. This is what the institution actually values: control over accommodation, supervision over dignity, and the authority to regulate the most intimate and undeniable human functions as a demonstration of power.
The core idea, stated plainly: When a supervisor counts a pregnant woman’s bathroom visits and deducts them from her breaks, they are not enforcing a reasonable rule. They are revealing institutional character. The institution has decided that monitoring biological functions is more important than basic human dignity. The institution has decided that control — even petty, demeaning, biologically absurd control — is the primary expression of supervisory authority. And the institution has communicated this to every other employee who witnessed or heard about what happened to the pregnant woman: your body is company time, and any deviation from productivity will be monitored, counted, and punished.**
What the Bathroom Rule Actually Measures.
The supervisor did not count the bathroom visits because the pregnant woman was performing poorly. The supervisor counted them because counting them was a way to exercise power. The frequency of the visits was irrelevant. The pregnant woman could not control how often she needed the bathroom. Pregnancy causes frequent urination. This is not discretionary. This is not optional. This is biological.
But the supervisor’s response treated the biological need as if it were a performance failure. As if the pregnant woman was choosing to leave the office too often. As if the solution was not accommodation but discipline. The supervisor counted the visits. Deducted them from breaks. And in doing so, communicated that the pregnant woman’s body — and its needs — were a problem the institution needed to manage.
The rule does not measure the pregnant woman’s commitment to her work. It measures the institution’s commitment to control. The institution could have installed a toilet. The institution could have acknowledged that pregnancy requires flexibility. The institution could have simply let the woman use the bathroom without monitoring her. But the institution did none of these things. The institution counted. And counting is not neutral. Counting is surveillance. Counting is the institution saying: we are watching. We are measuring. And any biological need that interferes with productivity will be classified as time you owe us.
When an institution monitors bathroom visits, it is not enforcing efficiency. It is enforcing submission. The message is not “work harder.” The message is: your body does not belong to you during work hours. Every biological function is subject to institutional approval. And if you need the bathroom more than the institution deems acceptable, you will be penalized — not because you are performing poorly, but because you have reminded the institution that you are a human being with a body, and bodies are inconvenient.
The Hair-Touching Boss. Another Anatomy of Petty Control.
Sutton includes a second micro-control example in the same section. A former secretary at a large public utility quit her job because her boss — a woman — wouldn’t stop touching her shoulders and her hair.
This is a different form of petty control. Not surveillance of biological functions. Physical invasion of personal space. The secretary did not consent. The secretary presumably asked the boss to stop (Sutton does not say explicitly, but the secretary quit over it, which suggests the behavior did not stop). And the boss continued. Because the boss could. Because the boss’s authority included — in the boss’s understanding — the right to touch subordinates.
The hair-touching is not sexual harassment in the narrow legal sense (though it could be, depending on context and frequency). But it is an exercise of power through physical contact. The boss touches the secretary’s hair. The secretary cannot stop it without risking conflict or retaliation. The touch is a demonstration: I can do this. You cannot stop me. Your body — like your time — is subject to my authority.
The pregnant woman’s bathroom visits and the secretary’s hair-touching are structurally similar. Both involve the supervisor exercising control over the subordinate’s body. Both involve the institution treating biological or physical boundaries as optional. Both involve the subordinate being placed in a position where asserting their right to bodily autonomy (needing the bathroom, not wanting to be touched) becomes a conflict with institutional authority.
And both reveal the same thing: the institution values control over dignity. The supervisor’s authority is demonstrated not through competence, not through leadership, not through enabling the subordinate to do good work — but through the ability to regulate, monitor, and invade the subordinate’s most intimate boundaries.
Why Petty Control Is Not Accidental.
The institution did not accidentally create a supervisor who counts bathroom visits. The institution created conditions where this behavior is possible, where it goes unpunished, and where it is — implicitly or explicitly — understood as an acceptable expression of supervisory authority.
Here is what the institution did:
First, the institution hired or promoted a person into a supervisory role without evaluating whether that person understood the difference between authority and cruelty. The supervisor who counts a pregnant woman’s bathroom visits does not understand this difference. Or understands it and does not care.
Second, the institution did not install a toilet. This is not a minor detail. The office was small. The office did not have a bathroom. Employees had to leave the building to use a toilet. This is not a reasonable workplace condition. And when the pregnant woman’s needs made this condition untenable, the institution’s response was not to fix the condition. The institution’s response was to count her visits.
Third, the institution allowed the supervisor’s counting to continue. The pregnant woman did not quit immediately (Sutton does not say when or if she quit, but the anecdote implies she endured this for some time). Which means other employees saw or heard about what was happening. Which means the institution — through inaction — communicated that this behavior was acceptable.
The petty control is not accidental. It is the predictable outcome of an institution that has decided control is more important than dignity, that supervisory authority includes the right to regulate biological functions, and that subordinates’ complaints about invasive monitoring are not worth addressing.
Petty control thrives in institutions that measure supervisors based on compliance rather than outcomes, on authority rather than leadership, and on subordinates’ submission rather than subordinates’ performance. When the institution evaluates supervisors based on whether employees follow rules — rather than whether the rules make sense or whether the supervisor enables good work — the institution creates conditions where counting bathroom visits becomes a demonstration of competence. The supervisor who counts is showing the institution: I am enforcing rules. I am monitoring my people. I am making sure no one gets away with anything. And the institution rewards this — or at minimum, does not punish it — because the institution values control over everything else.
What This Looks Like in an Indian Office.
In Indian workplaces, petty institutional control operates with brutal efficiency. The pregnant woman equivalent is everywhere: the employee who needs to leave early for a medical appointment and is told to “adjust” their leave balance. The employee who takes a sick day and is asked to provide a doctor’s note — not because the company doubts they were sick, but because the company wants to make taking a sick day as administratively burdensome as possible. The employee who works from home and is required to send hourly updates — not because their work requires it, but because the manager wants to monitor them.
“Bathroom jaana hai toh register mein sign karo.” If you need to go to the bathroom, sign the register. This is not a hypothetical. This is a rule that exists in Indian call centers, manufacturing facilities, and offices. Employees must sign in and sign out when they use the bathroom. The stated reason: to prevent time theft, to ensure breaks are not abused, to maintain productivity. The actual reason: to assert control. To remind employees that even their biological functions are subject to institutional surveillance.
The register does not improve productivity. The register does not prevent time theft (employees who want to waste time will find other ways). The register does one thing: it tells every employee that the institution does not trust you, that your body is company property during work hours, and that any assertion of basic human needs will be monitored and potentially questioned.
And employees know this. The employee who signs the bathroom register is not thinking “the company is ensuring efficiency.” The employee is thinking: the company treats us like children. The company treats us like thieves. The company believes that our biological functions are something they need to control. And there is nothing we can do about it — because if we complain, we become the problem. Not the register. Us.
The Pregnant Woman as Test Case.
The pregnant woman is a test case because pregnancy is undeniable. You cannot argue that a pregnant woman does not need the bathroom frequently. You cannot argue that pregnancy is optional or discretionary. You cannot argue that the pregnant woman is exaggerating or malingering. Pregnancy is visible. Pregnancy is biological. Pregnancy is a condition that requires accommodation.
And yet the supervisor counted the visits. Which means the supervisor looked at a pregnant woman — with an undeniable biological need — and decided that monitoring her bathroom use was more important than accommodating her condition. The supervisor chose control over accommodation. The supervisor chose surveillance over dignity. And the institution allowed it.
This is why the pregnant woman anecdote is structurally revealing. If the institution cannot accommodate a pregnant woman’s bathroom needs without counting them as time theft, then the institution cannot accommodate anything. Every employee with a medical condition, every employee with a family emergency, every employee who needs flexibility for any reason — they are all subject to the same institutional logic. Their needs are problems. Their bodies are inconveniences. And the institution’s response is not accommodation. The institution’s response is monitoring, counting, and discipline.
What the Counting Reveals.
The supervisor who counts bathroom visits is not an outlier. The supervisor is a product of the institution’s values. The institution values control. The institution values compliance. The institution values the appearance of productivity over actual productivity. And the institution evaluates supervisors based on whether they enforce these values — not based on whether they enable good work, not based on whether they treat people with dignity, but based on whether they maintain control.
The pregnant woman’s bathroom visits were counted because counting them was what the supervisor understood their job to be. Not leading. Not enabling. Not accommodating. Counting. Monitoring. Enforcing. And the institution — by hiring or promoting this supervisor, by not installing a toilet, by allowing the counting to continue — communicated that this understanding was correct.
The institution does not evaluate supervisors based on whether their team does good work, whether morale is high, or whether people want to work there. The institution evaluates supervisors based on whether they maintain control. The supervisor who counts bathroom visits, who requires signatures for biological functions, who monitors constantly — that supervisor is doing exactly what the institution hired them to do. Not leadership. Control. And the institution’s silence in the face of petty cruelty is not negligence. It is endorsement.
Petty institutional control is not petty. It is definitive. It reveals what the institution actually believes about people, about authority, and about what supervisors are for. And once you see it — once you see the institution counting bathroom visits, requiring signatures for biological functions, monitoring employees as if they are untrustworthy children — you cannot unsee it. You know what the institution values. You know what the institution will do when your needs conflict with their control. And you know that your dignity, your body, and your humanity are secondary to the institution’s need to demonstrate that it is in charge.
The pregnant woman had to walk to a neighboring shop to use a toilet. And her boss counted the trips. That is all you need to know about what the institution actually is.
Source material: Chapter 1, The No Asshole Rule — Robert I. Sutton (2007). Scotland reader’s email about the pregnant woman whose bathroom visits were counted as break time, and the secretary who quit because her boss wouldn’t stop touching her hair.