I feel a sense of dread when I swing open the metal door to reveal the black box on the top of the toilet with the tiny red sensor light.
Because the moment I see it, I know it may work or it may ruin my life for the next 5 minutes.
Of all the toilet types available, I am convinced these contraptions were created by mischievous, malevolent demon spawn. No other bathroom product causes the level of mayhem that these toilets manage to accomplish every single time it is used.
Of all the toilet types available, I am convinced these contraptions have been cursed by demon spawn. No other bathroom product causes the level of mayhem that these toilets manage to accomplish every single time they are used…Evil, evil contraption.
When I enter the stall, I try to repress the anger, annoyance, and frustration at dealing with yet another automatic toilet. Then, the first thing I do is reach for a toilet bowl cover. I lift and pull the thin tissue away from the box. Gingerly, I lay it across the bowl when…WHOOSH! It flushes, taking the newly deposited cover with it. Or, if I happen to grab it in time to keep it from being flushed away, the cover is now wet from toilet bowl water. Ick.
This causes the time to properly lay the toilet bowl cover to be 2 to 3 times longer than normal, with quite a bit of trial and error.
Finally, it is in place. The dot is still blinking with purpose and possible menace.
As I assume the position, anxiety grips me as I try to hurry out of fear that it will flush too soon and proceed to splash me with my own excrement.
But I also don’t want to move too much or too fast. That may set it off. I carefully lean forward and reach for the toilet paper, slowly spooling out the necessary amount.
The toilet paper doesn’t spin. It is wedged on a metal bar, never to move. With internal cussing and further prayers that the black box behind me won’t notice, I have to lean further out and slowly unwind the toilet paper. I’m trying not to set off the sensors while balancing precariously on the edge of the bowl.
The tension builds. Will I get done in time? What if I move to wipe, and it flushes? Then I will get splashed all over my hand and nether regions.
Hurry, hurry, I repeat internally.
Almost done, I think, getting ready to jump up and out of the way to avoid the oncoming flush.
Done. I made it. I breathe a sigh of relief.
I stare at the blinking light as I get my clothes back in order. I move around a bit, thinking that would set it off.
Still no flush.
Really? I think as I lean over to look for the small, silver button that would force it to flush. I reach for the right side, feeling for the button because the stall is too small for me to step beside the toilet bowl and look. Before I could react or even jump back…WHOOOOOOOSH! Droplets spray all over my shirt and pants.
Evil, evil contraption.