There is a unique aspect of modern day living that entirely befuddles me.
That is:
Automatic bathroom technology.
This is the most confounding part: I have never, not once in my 26-and-almost-a-half years, been in a bathroom where the flusher, the faucet, the soap, AND the towels were all automatized.
Why is this perplexing? I will explain.
In theory-- this is my theory; this is also the theory that I assume was employed by building project heads considering the automatization of their bathrooms-- automatic bathroom technology is meant to guard against GERMS. If there are no hands turning the faucet on, see, if there are no manual flushers requiring a germy stomp with a foot, if there are no germy fingers soiling the soap dispenser with their pre-cleaned, post-bathroomed stickiness, if there is no touching whatsoever of the bathroom apparatuses-- well then, we ushered into a new, Utopian-type era of germ-free living. NO TOUCHING MEANS NO GERM PROCREATION.
We must stop the germs from having babies, see.
But now you see why I am befuddled by the lack of a COMPREHENSIVE AUTOMATIZED SYSTEM OF BATHROOM TECHNOLOGY. Sure, maybe the toilet flushes by itself, maybe the faucet spurts on after an awkward torso undulation, maybe the soap spits out foam all by its lonesome, but you will not get out of this modern-day bathroom without using your GERMY HANDS to get the paper towels.
There is always a weak link, a germy weak link. Always.
The other thing that drives me crazy about automatic bathroom technology is that it typically refuses to acknowledge my existence. As I stand in front of the sink, trying to assert an imposing figure, I am rebuffed with a silent faucet. I wave my hands in pitiful desperation... and am rejected. The faucet-- if you will follow my ever-anthropomorphic thinking-- deigns not. "I see no small blond woman. I acknowledge no frenetic hand-waving."
Or at least it doesn't, until I've sufficiently humiliated myself by performing jazzercise in the 2'x3' area in front of the bathroom stalls. This is our new rain-dance. Instead of dancing on open plains like our (not mine, but some one's) Native American ancestors, to the tune of dignified drum beats and in the shadow of a crackling ceremonial fire, we convulse and shake and gesticulate in front of a porcelain deity, just to get some frickin' hand soap.
I miss the days of germ-filled manual living. Give me germs, or give me ready-faucet-acknowledgment.
That's all.
3 comments:
At first I read your title as "aromatic bathroom technology" and I thought, "Finally! Someone else who hates all the weird deodorizers in the bathrooms." I mean - don't they smell enough without adding strange conflicting citrus and bleach smells? Come on people! Adding three different scents to the air does NOT make it more pleasant. If you're going to use something: pick one and stick with it. And for the sake of the tender noses of the world that already feel assailed in public restrooms, please make sure it doesn't cause toxic-scent overload when mixed with cleaning product. Ugh.
-Suzannah
Amen! I totally almost blogged about this last week. I was in a rest stop men's room waving my hands in front of what turned out to be a bolt when another guy stepped beside me and made water magically spew from the camouflaged faucet. Not my proudest moment. Thankfully I was able to recognize the paper towel dispenser, although I was tempted to frantically wave my arms in front of the blank tile wall just to make sure (or to freak out the guy next to me).
And don't you hate it when restroom doors make you pull a handle to get out?! I mean seriously!
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