When I was hired as an Assistant Professor at Ohio State, I was assigned one of the very few faculty offices that had no windows. It was an interior office next to a men's room.
That it was next to the men's room was evident every time someone flushed, since the sound entered my office via a hole in the wall, of pipe-sized diameter, that seemed to amplify the noise. If I were on the phone, I had to ask the person at the other end to wait for the flushing sounds to subside, before we could resume our conversation.
Luckily, the hole didn't go straight from my office to the men's room, giving an interesting, if unsettling, view of my colleagues; the hole turned a corner, blocking light but not sound.
Presumably the hole served to vent the men's room ... into my office.
When the department decided to enter a more modern era and wire the offices for ethernet, I learned that my office would be the hub where all the wires would meet. I learned this when I arrived one day and found bootprints on the research papers I had laid out on my desk, and a hole in the ceiling above my desk. I cleared the fallen plaster off the desk, tried unsuccessfully to clean the bootprinted papers, and resolved to put away each evening anything I wanted to see again.
One day, as I worked in my office with the door half open (hoping to ventilate at least some of the men's room fumes into the hallway), a committee walked in without saying hello or acknowledging my presence. The committee chair picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on my blackboard, as he loudly explained to his committee the problem they were trying to solve. This must have been the department's computer committee, planning the wiring design.
I didn't know whether they didn't realize I was there, or didn't care. Since my door was open, it should have been clear that the office was occupied. It was a small rectangular room, and I sat facing the door, near the middle of the room. I was hard to miss.
It wasn't easy to concentrate on my work while a committee met in my office. I wondered what to do.
I cheerily said "Hello", but no one responded.
I loudly closed and opened the books I was using, in the hope that they'd notice that I was there, it was my office, and I was trying to work.
Eventually, I decided to be helpful. If they were going to have a committee meeting in my office while I was there, I should at least be a temporary honorary committee member, shouldn't I? I helpfully chimed in with a suggestion for solving the wiring problem.
The committee turned and looked at me, in horror. The committee chair glared. He made clear his displeasure. Not with my solution, but with my unwelcome interruption.
I shut up and continued to observe them in amusement, amazed that they considered this a reasonable way to treat a colleague.
Perhaps I could have gotten rid of them faster by pointing out that they'd be healthier continuing their conversation somewhere that wasn't the vent for the men's room.