Have you ever washed your hands in a public restroom? You probably have. Did they have one of those motion activated taps? The ones that you wave your hands in front of, never quite sure if you’re waving in the exact right place or it’s out of order. There is never a sign telling you it’s not working. You are forced to check multiple sinks before finding one that can read your hand movement. Or sometimes you just wait for someone who has successfully washed their own hands to finish, confident that you can do whatever it is that person did to master that particular tap. Even that can be problematic at times. Some people have a knack for using those things or maybe they have dumb luck. Or maybe it doesn’t work the same way every time. You can never be sure. Did you ultimately feel like you washed your hands the way you would have liked? Was it satisfying? Did you walk away with perfectly clean hands, bone dry, and ready for whatever was next? Probably not.
At home I like to apply the perfect amount of liquid soap, maybe two smallish dabs, then work the soap into a bubbly lather until I’ve coated and scrubbed each inch of my hands multiple times. I don’t sing the “Happy Birthday” song to myself. I’ve seen signs suggesting it’s the length of time needed for optimal hygiene. Though if I had to guess I’d say my routine probably comes close enough to the prescribed timeframe. Which makes me wonder if someone at the CDC has done tests to determine the right amount of time needed for the average person to stop the spread of germs through hand washing and that happened to be exact length of time it takes it to sing that song? I’ll need to look into that further when time allows. I can say my routine affords me just enough time to get clean and steal glances of my face and hair in the mirror while I wash. The glances are practiced so that I can ensure I look the way I want without appearing narcissistic to anyone else who may be looking. I then rinse my hands, while still scrubbing, under lukewarm to semi-cold water in summer and warm, bordering on outright hot water, in winter. I like the stream to be strong enough to wash away the soap with ease, but not too strong that water shoots out uncontrollably in all directions. I finally dry my hands with a nice soft towel. The whole affair probably lasts all of thirty seconds. There is something reassuring about the practiced routine of it all. A certain je ne sais quoi of order and ease that comes from the comforts of home. Which is very different from the experience you get in some public restrooms.
Have you ever wondered who designs those motion activated systems? Or maybe who has calibrated and tested them? I mean everything from the taps to the soap dispensers to the dryers. I’m convinced it’s a sadist’s dreamscape. Everything is designed to go wrong in tiny increments. They want you to be annoyed just short of the point where you may want to confront a manager or call the 1-800 number on one of many devices. I don’t think it’s by chance. It’s deliberate and calculated to ruin a tiny part of your day. If they are lucky and particularly successful in their planned micro-malfunctions the lack of satisfaction with your hand washing will spill over into the rest of your day. And that is what I believe is the ultimate goal.
That’s why I think the super villains of cartoons and super hero movies, and even action thrillers do live among us. The only difference is the stakes are much lower for them. They don’t want to attain some MacGuffin that controls the fate of the world or gives them supreme powers. They want to laugh to themselves every time they think of you struggling with what should be a simple task. They want to contribute in the smallest way possible to annoying you.
I wonder if their origin stories are similar? In big motion pictures they always distill the villain’s origin to some exact point, an inciting incident as they say in the biz, where audiences can see a traumatic event turned into fodder for a lifetime commitment to some form of vengeance, usually practiced on the hero or the population of average joe’s, or a combination of both. They aren’t very well-formed characters in mosts cases so the singular event and inevitable rise does a lot of work. But let’s assume the mechanical engineers working in the bathroom space have had similar experiences. Maybe they were in dire need of a thorough hand washing; maybe they just ate a large ice cream cone on a hot day and couldn’t keep up with the melting, and when they finally got to a public bathroom none of the sinks were working. Maybe they had to suffer the shame of walking around for another hour or so with sticky, uncomfortable hands, and couldn’t partake in whatever beautiful event was planned for that day with their parents and siblings. Maybe there was a petting zoo and their hands were ogled with disapproval by the animal handlers and were forced to sit out the event. Maybe they swore vengeance on all mankind and went into mechanical engineering later in life as a result. Maybe they chose bathroom fixtures out of all the options because it was the best way to ruin other people’s idyllic day too.
They probably don’t even talk about it. When asked what they do at cocktail parties they just describe in vague terms something overly technical and boring, while hiding deep within a very real satisfaction that they’ve reached their life’s goal and their only concern is now ensuring that things will never improve from where they’ve purposefully left them: planned malfunction and encumbrance.
So remember this every time you go into a public restroom and wave your hands in front of what you assume to be the sensor but is actually something else. Remember this when the water shoots out in a steady beam and soils your shirt and pants. Remember this when the water is so hot it feels like it may be burning a hole through your skin and there is no visible way to control the temperature. Remember this when you wave your hand under the soap dispenser and you either get a tiny trickle of foam or a giant glob of industrial liquid that mostly spills on the floor. Remember this when you wave your hands under the air dryer and it runs for five seconds and won’t come on again no matter what you try. Remember this when you wave your hands somewhere near the paper towel dispenser and get something the size of a postage stamp. Remember this when you accept the things you can’t control and breathe a deep sigh of relief that these villains have let you go free with just a simple warning.
I wonder how long it would take to write a letter to every public and private establishment, urging them to ensure their sinks are working at all times so I can head off the creation of the next villain? If villains are walking among us, me and you, can be heroes.
GLAZ 