Call Me Old Fashioned

My carpal tunnel is acting up again. And you know why? Because of all those darn new fangled automated water spouts and paper towel dispensers!

Okay, Laural, deep breathe.

The scene is the same every single time I go into any bathroom in my building. I stand there and wave my hand in front of the little black sensor to no avail. When water doesn't come out of the spout, I try approaching the sensor from different angles, then at different speeds. Finally, there is water! So I'll soap up my hands, only for the water to stop mid-suds. Now I'm waving a soapy hand around wondering if I'll have to drip my way to the kitchen to rinse off! Just when I'm about to walk away, water starts pouring out, from the other sink, that I wasn't even standing in front of.

When I'm rinsed and ready to dry, there is yet another little sensor to wave my hand in front of. This one usually doesn't work until I give up and turn my back. Sensing that I'm walking away, the paper towel dispenser will give up its game and spit out a towel. Then another, and another, and another. I don't need four towels! Just the one you made me wait a millennium for!

It's just too much of a coincidence that those little sensors relent right when I'm at my breaking point. I'm convinced that the bathroom sinks are being monitored from a command post somewhere in the building where people get a kick out of controlling the sensors and driving people batty. I bet it's the room near the reception area that the security guards slide into, trying to open the door as little as possible as they go in and out.

Well, the joke is on them, when they see the medical bill for my new wrist brace.