When time stalls

The men's bathroom is about, I don't know, 40 feet to my right. Sometimes when I glance over my shoulder, the door to the bathroom is open, and I see a man standing at the sink washing his hands. Sometimes the said man will turn around at that exact moment to walk out the door, and he sees me, and our eyes meet, dragging out this split-second moment into what seems like a lifetime of embarrassing agony for myself. I mean, I don't know what to do when this happens. I'd like to tell him that I was merely glancing around out of boredom, that they need to move the sinks from right in front of the doorway. Instead, we share a grossly intimate moment traced with furtive glances, and I'm the creepy copy-desk youngster.

So, bathroom-makers of the world, do me a favor and stick bathrooms into little office crannies and make them with entrances/exits that have little corridors so outsiders can't look in. Thanks.