A Failure Of Basic Technology

Sometimes the most ordinary, everyday procedure can end with simply ludicrous circumstances. And sometimes the most simple technology, technology that has worked with few problems for years, gets over-engineered and also results in ludicrous circumstances. And when you combine the two, well you end up with a situation verging on the ridiculous.

Naturally I have an example of such an occasion, I'm not just sitting here hypothesising. This takes us unfortunately, to the toilet cubical. The theatre of poo. So if you're eating whilst reading this I suggest you come back to it later. After all - you don't want crumbs on your keyboard.


I was in a restaurant hurrying my lunch so I could use the toilet. I hate it when this happens. You know you're not going to enjoy your meal when you desperately need to eject a previous one. I ate as quickly as I could then asked for the bill. I waited for what seemed to be an eternity until a saucer appeared in front of me. On it was a neatly folded piece of paper. Yes! This was what I had been waiting for, the contents of my meal accurately accounted for and listed with a price at the bottom. My mind wandered to the use of the saucer. I wondered whether its designer had intended it to be a vessel for bill delivery, then realised it was the perfect accompaniment for a tea cup, or vice versa? A question I simply couldn't answer, I just didn't have the time. I placed the relevant monies on the saucer then got myself ready to leave. The waitress was nowhere to be seen. I knew I didn't have long, my bowel clock was ticking and it waited for nobody. I had to leave. Not wanting the money to be stolen or blown away by some freak currency wind, I looked around for something to pin the notes into position. My empty tea cup. How apt.

I hurried off to the toilet and sat on the seat. Just then I realised that there was no toilet paper in the dispenser, but as good luck would have it there was some on a shelf a couple of feet away. I stood up and brought it over. At that point, without any warning at all the toilet flushed itself. I realised that it had some kind of a sensor - a device watching my bum the whole time, waiting to spring into action as soon as I was gone. But alas it was too early - I hadn't even started! Finally I was ready to begin.


We've reached a point where I can lay off the detail a little. We all know what happens at this stage of proceedings, and if you don't, well you're not getting any fibre. I suggest you eat some prunes.


Moments later the deed had been completed. I would now clean up, then I was free to enjoy the rest of my day. Looking forward to this bright prospect I stood up to take care of business, and waited for the toilet to flush once again. Nothing happened. I completed the task at hand, with my right hand, then waited once more. Still nothing. I was aware that others were waiting. A full flush simply could not be avoided.

I waved my hand in front of the sensor. Nothing
I stood in front of the toilet, then away again. Nothing
I pretended to leave the cubical. Nothing.

What else could I try? Was there some kind of manual override? No. The designer of this had clearly had enough of the manual flush. He'd wanted those laborious days to be over. No civilised man shall ever have the hardship of flushing a toilet again - he shall just poo and go.

I felt I had no choice but to simulate the whole process from the beginning. I lowered my trousers and sat on the bowl. I got up and walked away, taking care to re-dress myself appropriately. Nothing. There was no way around this. I opened the door with my head held high and marched past the small queue of waiting men. The first walked in to the cubicle to be presented with yesterday's lunch.


It was a chicken and vegetable wrap.

Answerphone

I called somebody today. The phone rang and rang and rang. A while later an answerphone message began. The voice, speaking in its finest English, proceeded to give me a series of instructions after a most humble apology for not being present. It instructed me to listen for a tone, then advised me to leave a brief message afterwards. This I was informed, would ensure that the owner of this voice would later speak to me in person. I was then informed by another voice that if I wanted to re-record my message I would be able to by pressing hash - Phew!

I’ve been using phones for years. I know about the beep. I know when to speak. I know what will happen if I leave a message. What is the point in telling me all this?

I decided to leave a message suggesting that shortly after listening to it he should pick up the phone, checking that there is enough battery life to make a call. He should then search through his contact numbers and select mine. Next he should press dial, then hold the phone to his ear, ensuring that the phone is upright. After the ring-ring noises have stopped he would probably hear my voice greet him, and should then talk in the gaps between me talking...

I await his call.