When cafes draw hard line on bathrooms

I had lunch with a friend near his workplace last year, then stopped by a nearby café known for its well-made coffee. It was a sleek, youthful space run by young owners. But what stuck with me had little to do with the coffee itself.

The men’s restroom explicitly banned defecation. The rule was spelled out without ambiguity. It went beyond a posted notice. Toilet paper had been removed, and the toilet itself was covered with a lid-like structure designed to prevent its use for that purpose. Directions to nearby public restrooms were also posted, complete with a hand-drawn map. All instructions were provided in four languages: Korean, English, Japanese and Chinese.

I understand the intent. If I ran a café and found myself dealing with that kind of situation, I might also think carefully about setting boundaries. Still, there are realities that are difficult to avoid. In my limited experience, urgent bodily needs sit near the top of that list. Coffee, depending on the person, can act as a diuretic or stimulate digestion. I could not help wondering what would happen if someone in that situation walked into that restroom.

A few months later, I came across a questionnaire at a seminar for aspiring independent bookstore owners. One of the questions read: “Can you unclog a toilet left blocked by a customer?” It was included by Jeong Hyeon-ju, founder of Seogjeong Lisbon, one of South Korea’s most successful independent bookstores. Despite her accomplishments, she spoke throughout the seminar in a grounded, practical tone. One of the realities she raised was exactly this kind of customer-related issue, including restroom maintenance. It is part of the job, she suggested, whether one likes it or not.

I also found myself wondering whether the café owners were simply young, and therefore more inclined to draw firm boundaries. Around the same time, while speaking with an older acquaintance about travel in later life, I learned something about his father. He has stopped considering air travel altogether, largely because of concerns about restroom access. On flights, takeoff, landing and turbulence can temporarily limit access to bathrooms. For younger people, that is a minor inconvenience. For older adults, even that possibility can feel significant. In that sense, the café’s strict policy may also reflect a kind of youthfulness, a confidence in the body and its predictability.

I am deliberately avoiding naming the café or giving its exact location. This is not intended as criticism, nor do I wish to cause harm to the business. Still, the policy has left me with a lingering question: where exactly does the scope of a job begin and end?

Is a café’s responsibility limited to carefully brewing and serving good coffee? Or does it extend, in some way, to the unpredictable realities of the people who walk in? The café in question seems to have drawn a clear line.

Even so, it has clearly stayed with me. Since then, before stepping into a small, stylish café run by young owners, I find myself paying closer attention to my own condition. If I suspect I might need a restroom soon, I hesitate to go in. I would rather not be remembered by a café owner I will likely never meet again as the customer who caused a problem.