How the ‘WC’ Sign Reflects Cultural Differences Around the World

Have you ever seen the letters “WC” outside a public bathroom and wondered what they mean? You’re not alone! Many people around the world are curious about the “WC,” which refers to a room with a toilet and a sink.

While we can explain what “WC” stands for, it might not make much more sense than other terms like restroom, bathroom, or loo.

In 2020, a couple named Shelby and Dylan made a TikTok video showing a funny difference between how some Americans and Canadians refer to bathrooms. In the video, Dylan walks by a sign that says “washroom” and asks, “What in the world is a washroom?” He humorously wonders what people are washing in there, adding, “The only thing I wash in there is my hands.” Off-camera, Shelby chimes in, asking, “Do you rest in a restroom?”

It’s interesting to see how different cultures use different terms for the same place!

“That’s a good point. None of these terms make much sense,” Dylan says in the video.

Many people joined the conversation online, sharing their thoughts about what they call this important room.

One user commented, “It’s called a bathroom, restroom, washroom, and toilet.”

Another follower shared a funny story from Disneyland, saying they “asked for the washroom” and ended up being sent to the laundromat instead!

A third user joked, “Wait until he finds out about water closets.”

**Water Closet**
According to Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, a “water closet” is a term used to describe “a room with a toilet” or “a toilet bowl and its accessories.”

Long ago, when people talked about using the bathroom, it often meant taking a bath. The term “restroom” suggested a place to rest or get ready by using the sink and mirror.

Lastly, if you needed to go potty, you would use the toilet in the water closet. Depending on where you are in the world, this room is called many different names, including loo, restroom, bathroom, washroom, lavatory, or WC.

Credit: Shutterstock

In modern times, you will often see signs that say “WC” in public places like airports, restaurants, or hotels. This is just another way to say “restroom” or “bathroom,” but it is usually seen as a more formal or international sign for places that welcome travelers from different countries.

**History of the WC**
Before the 19th century in America, having an indoor toilet was a luxury only for wealthy people. Most people used outhouses or outdoor toilets. While many homes had “bathrooms” for taking baths, these rooms usually didn’t have toilets. The installation of indoor plumbing started to become common in the late 1800s, leading to the creation of the water closet by 1890. These early water closets had toilets that were separate from bathing areas.

It wasn’t until the early 20th century that bathrooms began to combine both bathing areas and toilets into one room. This design helped save space and made plumbing simpler, but it also reduced privacy, especially when multiple people were using the bathroom.

Over time, the term “water closet” changed to refer to a small, private room within a larger bathroom that was used only for the toilet. These water closets often have a small sink for handwashing, making them convenient and self-contained.

Credit: Shutterstock

To understand the term “water closet,” many people shared their thoughts on Reddit in a post titled, “Why is a public WC called bathroom if there is [no] bath?”

In response, one Reddit user pointed out, “Americans might ask: ‘Why is it called a WC (water closet) if it isn’t even a closet?” This user explained that in the U.S., “bathroom” or “restroom” is the common way to refer to a “room with a toilet.” Other countries use different terms, like “WC,” “lavatory,” or “loo.”

Another user mentioned that in Russian, the term translates to “a room without windows,” even if there is a window. A third user shared that in Esperanto, it’s called “necesejo,” meaning “necessary place.”

Other Reddit users talked about the differences between “washroom,” “bathroom,” and “restroom.” One commenter noted, “Canada famously uses ‘washroom,’” while another clarified that in the Midwest, “washroom” is also common, but “bathroom” and “restroom” are used more frequently.

One user humorously stated, “Best one, I think. You should be washing in there… not resting.”

What do you think about the term WC? What do you call the room that has a toilet? We would love to hear your opinions, so please share your thoughts!

My Ex-husband Got Our House, Car and All Our Money After Divorce – I Laughed Because That Was Exactly What I Planned

After a bitter marriage marked by Mike’s obsession with material wealth, Nicole shockingly agrees to give him everything in their divorce. But as Mike revels in his “victory,” Nicole’s laughter reveals a secret plan in motion. What Mike doesn’t know is that she’s about to make her final move.

I stepped out of the lawyer’s office with a blank expression, my shoulders slumped, looking every bit the defeated ex-wife. The rain was coming down hard, and the gray sky matched my mood — or at least the mood I wanted people to think I was in.

A woman walking past a window | Source: Midjourney

A woman walking past a window | Source: Midjourney

Inside, I was buzzing. My hands clenched the cold steel of the door handle as I headed toward the elevator. No one was around. Good.

The elevator door closed behind me with a soft ding, and as soon as I was alone, I let out a little giggle. It wasn’t something I planned; it bubbled up from deep inside like champagne finally uncorked.

The more I thought about what I’d just done the more it built up until I was cackling in the elevator like a lunatic.

A woman laughing in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

A woman laughing in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

If anyone saw me right then, they’d think I had finally snapped, gone over the edge from all the stress, but oh no, this was just the beginning. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

The house, the car, the savings — Mike could have them all. It was exactly what I wanted. He thought he’d won, and that was the best part. He didn’t have a clue what was coming.

The elevator stopped with a jolt, and I pulled myself together. I glanced at my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall: messy hair, tired eyes, and a faint smile still lingering on my lips. I didn’t even care. This was going to be fun.

A woman in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

A woman in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

A few weeks earlier…

Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years, but it wasn’t just the regular kind of falling out of love. Mike was obsessed with his image. He was all about the flashy cars, having the biggest house on the block, and wearing only designer clothes.

All of it was a performance, and I had played my part for too long. The cracks had started to show, and when the arguments became more frequent, I knew it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened.

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

The thing is, I wasn’t scared of the divorce. I knew Mike, and I knew exactly how this would play out.

He didn’t care about saving the marriage. No, what he wanted was to win — win the house, win the money, win the divorce.

All I wanted was to be free of this pretentious lifestyle. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him screw me over, either. So, I’d let Mike have what he wanted, but with a catch as sharp as a fishhook.

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

It happened on a Tuesday. Mike came home late, again. I was in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through my phone, not bothering to look up when he stormed in.

“We need to talk.”

I sighed, barely masking the boredom in my voice. “What now?”

He slammed his keys on the counter, and I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. He always got like this when things didn’t go his way at work, and of course, I was the easiest target.

An irritated man | Source: Midjourney

An irritated man | Source: Midjourney

“I’m done,” he said, his voice low and tight. “I want a divorce.”

I blinked up at him. Finally. I nodded slowly, like it was sinking in, but really, I had been prepared for this moment for weeks.

“Okay,” I said simply.

He frowned, clearly taken aback. “That’s it? No fight? No begging?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point?”

A woman staring ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring ahead | Source: Midjourney

For a second, he looked confused, like I had taken the wind out of his sails. He was expecting resistance, expecting me to plead with him to stay.

But I just needed to give him enough rope to hang himself with.

The divorce negotiations were as awful as I expected. We sat across from each other in a sterile conference room, lawyers flanking us, as Mike outlined every little thing he wanted. The house, the car, the savings; it was like he was reading off a grocery list.

Close up of a man's eyes | Source: Midjourney

Close up of a man’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

And the entire time, he had this smug little grin on his face, like he thought I’d break down and cry at any moment.

“Fine,” I said, barely listening. “You can have it all.”

My lawyer shot me a look, one that clearly said, “Are you sure?” But I just nodded.

Mike blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, you can have it. I don’t want any of it, except for my personal possessions.”

A woman | Source: Midjourney

A woman | Source: Midjourney

He looked stunned. “You… you don’t want the house? Or the money?”

“Nope,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “It’s all yours.”

His shock quickly morphed into glee. “Great. Then take this afternoon to pack up your belongings. It’s not much, so that should be plenty of time.” Mike glanced at his watch. “I’ll expect you to be out by six.”

“No problem,” I replied.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

He sat up straighter, his chest puffing out like he’d just won the lottery. And I let him think it.

And that brings me back to that moment when I stepped into the elevator in the lawyer’s office building, and couldn’t contain my laughter anymore.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I pulled out my phone. My fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I typed out a quick message: I’m heading to the house to pack up my things. I’ll call you when it’s time to make your move.

I hit send and smiled. Time for the real fun to begin.

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

Packing up the house was easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t want much, just a few personal things, mostly items that held memories that weren’t tainted by Mike. The house was too big for just the two of us anyway, and it always felt more like his house than mine.

I was taping up the last box when I picked up the phone to make the call. My mom, Barbara, answered on the second ring.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “It’s time.”

A woman making a phone call | Source: Midjourney

A woman making a phone call | Source: Midjourney

There was a pause, and then Mom’s familiar, no-nonsense tone came through. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Mom couldn’t stand Mike. She saw right through his flashy facade the day I introduced them. But the best part? She had helped us buy this house. She was the reason Mike thought he had scored such a great deal on it, and now she was going to be the reason he lost it.

I hung up, feeling a strange sense of relief as I looked around. I was done pretending.

A woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I was making breakfast in my new little apartment when my phone rang. I smirked as Mike’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hello?” I answered sweetly.

“You set me up!” Mike’s voice was furious, practically frothing at the mouth.

I put the phone on speaker, grabbing a piece of toast as I leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

A slice of toast | Source: Midjourney

A slice of toast | Source: Midjourney

“Your mother!” he spat. “She’s… she’s in my house! She’s taken over everything!”

“Oh, right,” I said, biting into my toast. “Remember that agreement we signed when she gave us the down payment? The one that lets her live there whenever she wants, for as long as she wants?”

There was a long pause, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. I could imagine the look on his face, realization dawning.

A woman speaking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

He had signed that paper years ago, too blinded by the allure of a fancy house to even think twice about the fine print.

“You! You cheated me! This isn’t over. I’m getting my lawyers—”

Before he could finish, I heard Mom’s voice in the background, sharp and cutting through the phone. “Michael, you better get your feet off that coffee table! And stop hogging the remote!”

There was a muffled sound as if Mike had turned away from the phone, trying to whisper. “Barbara, this is my house—”

A smiling woman on a phone call | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman on a phone call | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, hush,” Mom interrupted, louder now. “It’s my house just as much as yours. And another thing, what’s with all these cheap snacks? Do you know how to grocery shop? I’m not living off frozen dinners!”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Mike mumbled something incoherent, his frustration barely contained, but before he could get another word in, I heard her again.

“And turn down that TV! You think I want to listen to that nonsense all day? If you’re going to watch those ridiculous car shows, at least mute it!”

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

There was a loud crash, followed by some more muttering, and then the phone clicked off abruptly. I took a deep breath, smiling as I sat down at the table.

Freedom never tasted so sweet.

Here’s another story: When I overheard my husband advising his friend to deliberately botch household chores, I felt a surge of anger. That moment marked the beginning of a transformation in our marriage, one where I decided to confront his weaponized incompetence by treating him like the child he was pretending to be.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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