Global Drying

In light of the release of several emails from renowned scientists regarding global climate change, and the resulting cries of conspiracy and fraud, I thought I’d take a moment to address environmental issues. Whether or not you subscribe to the belief that climate change is man-made or not, there is really no doubt that the planet’s climate is changing. Some places are getting colder, some hotter, some drier and some wetter. Ice caps are melting. Now I don’t know if this is all the result of increased solar activity combined with a reduction in the ozone layer or if particulate matter is actually causing global dimming to occur that is offsetting human activity. I don’t know if people are to blame. But I suspect that we’re not helping. Let me get directly to my main, important point:

Why the fuck do you need fourteen goddamned square feet of paper towels to dry your hands in the men’s room? Granted only about 50% of men actually wash their hands after using the facilities, but apparently that half of the male population really, really likes to make sure that their hands are dry. You know what I am talking about—the guy who pulls the little paper towel lever in rapid succession about 8 times, dries his hands, then repeats the process. The resulting basketball-sized wad of spent paper is then unceremoniously tossed onto (not into) the overflowing garbage can where it rolls gently onto the floor until, eventually, some underpaid janitor will stuff it into a big, non-biodegradable plastic bag and have it trucked to the landfill where it will spend the next thousand years.

As I write this, I can hear the noise of that little lever: “ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk…”. What’s the thought process here? “I better make sure I get enough paper towels while they’re still free.” Maybe all men are simply OCD. “I CAN’T GET DRY!” Listen, just take one pull from the machine and end it. This isn’t a slot tournament guys. But even worse than the lever-style is the new electronic dispensers, they are already set to deliver five times the required amount of paper towel needed to dry Andre the Giant’s hands, but you still see dudes waving their (already arid) hands over the little sensor to get more. Are they expecting candy or money to come pouring out of that dispenser? I feel like I’m watching a hamster with electrodes hooked up to its neural pleasure center tapping furiously at a little electro-shock switch to get more.

Aside from just plain wastefulness and the lack of concern about conserving something that’s free, I think there’s a mental component to this. If you watch real closely, you can see that the aggressive manner in which the device is activated corresponds to an expression of satisfaction on the user’s face. Like he’s finally in control of something. He’s going show that paper towel dispenser who’s boss. It’s more than the typical (and very manly) tactile joy we get from interacting with a mechanical device… it’s almost domineering. As if to say: “My life is out of control, I don’t know what the hell I am doing, my wife is a tyrannical nag and my boss controls my every move. But here… here in the men’s room, I am in control. Take that you fucking paper towel dispenser! Yeah, that’s right bitch, you’ll give me all the paper towels I want!” Watch for it next time you’re it the men’s room—watch how they approach the machine with a cocky sense of contempt then rip that towel from the grips of the machine with a satisfied flourish.

The bottom line here guys is this... if you need more than 12 square inches of paper towel to dry your hands, you have a medical problem. Oh, and by the way, thanks so much for running through the entire day’s supply of paper towels in the men’s room by 4pm. I guess I’ll just dry my hands on my pants again you inconsiderate prick.