Automatic For The People
I’m thoroughly convinced that despite their perceived convenience, automatic-flushing toilets were only sent here to fuck with us. We’ve all been through this- if you move the slightest inch to either side while doing your business, it thinks you’re done and flushes relentlessly. The guy in the stall next to you is wondering if you’re trying to drown someone, or if it’s a middle-school swirlie prank gone awry. Going to the bathroom shouldn’t necessarily be a wrestling match (not all the time, anyway), but you shouldn’t have to sit completely motionless like you’re posing for a Kodak portrait in the 1830’s, either. When you actually want it to flush, you could stand up and do jumping jacks and somersaults in front of it, and it just sits there and stares at you blankly.
And don’t even get me started on automatic paper towel dispensers. With each one you visit, you get less and less paper towel per dispense. It’s like there’s a tiny, angry hippie inside each dispenser, rationing it out. When it had only given you enough to dry three fingers and you need more, you stand there waving at it, giving it the finger, pointing a rocket launcher at it…ahem…I mean asking it nicely, “please, sir, can I have some more?”, it takes 4 minutes for the next ration to come out.
I know this was all meant to encourage our already existent laziness, but I’d rather touch the flusher and contract ebola than deal with the automatic-flushing shenanigans, and I’ll crank out my own paper towels. Thank you very much.