Showing posts with label toilet paper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toilet paper. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

The Toilet Paper Hoarding Conundrum


Vlog


This week’s post is available as a vlog. Just kick back, crack open a beer, and click below.


Or, if you prefer my text to my mug, below is the classic format.

Introduction

Five weeks into shelter-in-place, it’s still hard to find toilet paper. I’ve never seen anything like it—but did you know this isn’t our nation’s first paranoia-induced toilet paper shortage? It turns out there’s a lot we didn’t know about this basic consumer product. In this post I’ll delve into the following:
  • The great TP famine of ‘73
  • Non-pandemic toilet paper hoarding
  • How unnecessary toilet paper actually is
  • The psychology of toilet paper stockpiling
  • Toilet paper hoarding as microcosm
Ah, “microcosm” … there’s a real English-major word for you. Don’t worry, I won’t get all eggheaded on ya. How could I, with such a low topic?

(Check out these stoked shoppers. One is saying to the other, “Look, not only do they have toilet paper here, but a choice of brands! It’s like 2019!”)


The great TP famine of ‘73

The world has seen pandemics before, and it’s seen worse. But this bizarre toilet paper hoarding? Actually, that’s happened before too, and what’s more, there was no global crisis precipitating it. This was back in 1973, and as described here, it all started with a congressman who, irritated with a relatively unimportant pulp paper shortage, which was “allegedly caused by companies that increased paper exports to avoid Federal price controls,” took to the American media to drum up support for his constituents. The press ignored him until he reframed the issue as a potential toilet paper shortage. This they jumped on, as did news agencies globally. Pockets of Americans started stockpiling, though this fell short of a national phenomenon. Then Johnny Carson got involved.

Johnny worked the news tidbit into his opening routine, during which—struggling to keep a straight face—he declared, “I wanna tell you, it is serious.” After that broadcast, everyone went nuts and started hoarding toilet paper, just as we are now. Perhaps they were being even sillier, believing in a nonexistent supply problem without even having an ostensible cause to point to. (Even before the Carson piece, the Scott Paper Company went on television to confirm that their production was as high as ever.)

Is it ever rational to second-guess the toilet paper supply?

There certainly are circumstances in which it’s perfectly rational to expect a dearth of toilet paper. One of these is large public events. I learned early on to bring my own TP roll to bike races, as the portable toilets often run out. One year at the Everest Challenge stage race, a guy coming out of the San-O-Let warned me, “There’s no paper. I had to use my arm warmers.” I thought he was joking, until I got in there … how disgusting. Fortunately, I’d planned ahead.

The other time you should BYOTP is when traveling to certain countries. Some of them simply don’t use toilet paper (more on this later) and others tend to run out due to theft. A Quora discussion on the topic “Why is there no toilet paper in Chinese public toilets?” tackled this apparently widespread problem. A few respondents explained the rationale behind the behavior:
It’s because they used to [be] poor or they [are] actually poor now … in 2018, Chinese per capita disposable income is 28228 Yuan or about 4000$ per year. And rural people’s per capita disposable income is 14617 Yuan or about 2000$ per year, 40 Yuan per day. Let’s say one roll of toilet paper is maybe 2 Yuan, so it’s almost 1/20 of rural people’s income for one day.
For some old people, extreme poverty had a destructive influence on their morality—Stealing will let you survive and being lawful makes you (and your children) starve to death.
One correspondent even provided this security camera footage.


Lest you think only Internet randos are reporting this, the New York Times wrote here about how technology is being used in China to address the problem: 
The authorities in Beijing are fighting back, going so far as to install high-tech toilet paper dispensers equipped with facial recognition software in several restrooms. Before entering restrooms in the park, visitors must now stare into a computer mounted on the wall for three seconds before a machine dispenses a sheet of toilet paper, precisely two feet in length. If visitors require more, they are out of luck. The machine will not dispense a second sheet to the same person for nine minutes. 

Still, the prevalence of toilet paper theft is subject to exaggeration. One person in the Quora thread chimed in to state that he generally has no trouble finding toilet paper, providing ample photographic evidence. He also shared this photo of a method used to deter waste:


Perhaps I’ll steal that idea and post a handy usage guide in my own bathroom!

Is toilet paper even necessary?

Sometimes, a westerner’s inability to find toilet paper is a matter of foreign custom. Russians, for example, used scrap paper until fairly recently. As described here, their first toilet paper factory was built in 1969, and due to low output the product was strictly rationed. One citizen recalled, “The lucky ones who managed to buy it would thread rolls on a string and walk home wearing their spoils like a necklace, to the envy of passers-by.”

This scarcity of toilet paper in Russia continued for decades. A respondent to this Quora thread wrote, “I was in Russia for one month in 1985. There were baskets of ripped up newspapers in each bathroom stall.” A friend of mine who visited in the ‘80s reported a similar scenario, and in fact accidently walked in on two maids as they cleaned his hotel room. They were caught red-handed with the roll of toilet paper he’d brought from home, passing it back and forth and giggling. It must have seemed absurdly posh to them.

Moreover, many countries simply don’t want toilet paper. This fascinating thread provides lots of testimony from people, mainly in India, who consider it disgusting that anybody uses toilet paper instead of water. Some examples: 
Unless I live in a desert, I would never want to carry my mess in my pants for days!
Let’s imagine, a crow shits on your shoulder or head … Will you still use a tissue paper to clean it? 
Water is more efficient and practical for a populous country like India where we have plenty of rivers and ponds. It will be quite impractical to switch to tissues.
This valiantly but imperfectly translated assessment actually blames the western toilet paper tradition for the Black Death:
Britain enraptured from crapping from the windows … within the eighteenth century and victimization pans to shit in rooms so property somebody carry it and inflicting plague and Black Death to toilet rolls. We washed our bottoms and washed our hands at the moment. So, no plague. No Black Death.
One helpful respondent offers this challenge: 
Put some Nutella on your right hand. Then wipe it off with a piece of paper, preferably toilet paper. Put some Nutella on your left hand. Now wash this with water, preferably a faucet. Now touch and smell both the hands. The right hand would smell of Nutella and you may feel some remnant on it too. But the left hand neither smells of Nutella nor there is anything to touch. Now imagine. Put your bodily waste instead of Nutella. Now tell me, which one is more hygienic??
From this same thread I learned that Pakistanis also prefer water to toilet paper; that Italians also do; and that an American who lived in India for 38 years learned to prefer water to toilet paper. He writes, “There is nothing better than a jet of water to pressure-wash the exhaust port of your Death Star.”

Within this anti-TP context, it’s hard for me to understand why—at a time when people all over the world are dying of a horrible virus—Americans are getting so worked up about their preferred method of, uh, cleaning up. What’s the big deal, when toilet paper alternatives clearly exist? Maybe it’s because America is also out of hand sanitizer?

Which brings us to …

The psychology of toilet paper stockpiling

Chances are, lots of people hoard toilet paper simply because others are doing it. Imitation is perhaps the quintessential human behavior: it’s how we all learned to talk, after all. Where such copycat behavior is concerned, rest assured very little contemplation of supply chain fundamentals is going on.

Beyond that, this hoarding behavior may give us some sense of control at a time when we feel we have little. As articulated by this article in The Conversation, “Stocking up on toilet paper is … a relatively cheap action, and people like to think that they are ‘doing something’ when they feel at risk.” The article also points out, “Modern economies run on trust and confidence. COVID-19 is breaking down that trust. People are losing confidence that they will be able to go outside and get what they need when they need it.”

I have to think the CDC’s reversal on wearing masks hasn’t helped maintain this trust. “You don’t need masks,” they told us, and look what happened: those who defied the CDC and hoarded masks anyway are now almost the only people who have them. In this way cynicism and distrust have been reinforced.

Toilet paper hoarding as microcosm

There is no overall supply problem with toilet paper, and actual usage of this product is not increasing. If anything, we’re all scared shitless. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) Therefore, if nobody altered their behavior in any way—that is, if they purchased toilet paper on the same schedule they always have—we would all continue to have plenty.

And yet, in the short term we don't, because too many people are behaving irrationally. It doesn't take unanimous foolishness to create a problem; just a critical mass. After all, it doesn’t help me to think rationally about the toilet paper factories running at full capacity, because irrational behavior is creating outsized demand. The shortage, in short, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The paranoid and/or highly organized types have far, far more toilet paper than they need, while the optimistic and/or disorganized among us are running out. The clear thinkers don’t get to lord their sensible approach over anyone; instead, they’re trampled by the stampeding masses.

In a more general sense, one downside of freedom is our vulnerability in the face of what can amount to crowdsourced public policy. Consider the problem of non-vaccinators (aka anti-vaxxers): they don't perceive diseases like measles or HPV as a threat because they've never encountered them, so they declare these diseases a non-threat and stop vaccinating their children. By behaving ignorantly, they are creating widespread problems that affect everyone in their cohort, and sometimes beyond. Measles, for example, could be eradicated worldwide if everybody were vaccinated; instead, it persists and is making a comeback. (As reported by the CDC, last year saw more than 22 outbreaks, with well over a thousand victims, here in the US—a country where this disease was thought to be eliminated 20 years ago.)

This same phenomenon could happen with COVID-19, as frustrated citizens demand an end to shelter-in-place and/or ignore the rules. By mistaking the success of social distancing for a lack of need for it, they lead us back into danger. Lashing out at the authority they’re tired of bending to, they err on the side of undue optimism. Oddly, this is almost the reverse of the toilet paper irrationality: in that case, they’re being unduly paranoid about something they have relatively easy influence over. As the Conversation article notes, TP hoarding “is an example of ‘zero risk bias,’ in which people prefer to try to eliminate one type of possibly superficial risk entirely rather than do something that would reduce their total risk by a greater amount.” In other words, it’s easier to hoard toilet paper than to shelter in place … never mind the return on investment.

Where the microcosm breaks down

Fortunately, there is enough toilet paper to go around, ultimately, and we'll reach a point where so many people have so much stockpiled, they'll eventually stop hoarding it. Their garages will get so overrun with TP, they'd feel silly buying more, and will finally learn to pass up their next opportunity to continue stockpiling. Eventually, the shelves will be replenished, and then the hysteria will die down and we'll go back to normal, which consists of all Americans having enough TP in their homes that they don't worry about it. Supply and demand will once again be in perfect balance. You might call it “hoard immunity.”

Alas, the world's overall resources don't work like that ... there really isn’t enough to go around, which is why a lot of people are malnourished, don't have educational opportunities, don't have great access to affordable health care, etc. The supply and demand of money has never been in perfect balance. Just about everybody wants more money, and it never starts to look ridiculous to stockpile it. Industries like advertising and marketing exist to increase demand, irrespective of the target market's standard of living, which in turn drives up monetary greed.

This brings us to what may be the harshest, most protracted aspect of this pandemic: long after the toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and mask shortages are over; when the shelter-in-place rules have finally been relaxed; well after the coronavirus has either run its course or been thwarted by a vaccine, we will likely be stuck in a terrible recession. And unlike the toilet paper shortage, it won’t affect people equally. Once again, the have-nots will take it the hardest.

Obviously there’s not much I can do about COVID-19 or its economic devastation. But where toilet paper is concerned, I will do my part: I haven't stockpiled any and I'm not going to. This is my symbolic stand, the simple, tiny gesture I’ll make in solidarity. I'll leave some toilet paper for the next guy and if I run out, so be it. Life will go on. (Or not.)

More reading on the pandemic
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For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Shelter-In-Place Frequently Asked Questions


Introduction

I’d like to distract you from all the doom and gloom around COVID-19, but it seems to be all I can think about. I’m in the San Francisco Bay Area, one of the first places in the U.S. to be put on mandatory shelter-in-place. We’re allowed to leave the house only for “essential activities.” What does that mean, exactly? Well, that’s one of the many questions I’ll answer here. Note that this post isn’t just about policy, but also about the experience so far.

I’m not like some big authority on this, but I’ve been at it a while. These questions comprise a) ones I’ve asked, b) ones others have asked me, and c) questions that have flown around via email threads. Others are hypothetical but I’m sure somebody, somewhere is asking them.

What is an “essential activity”?

In a nutshell, we’re allowed out to engage in activities essential to health and safety; to obtain necessary services or supplies or to deliver them; to work at an “essential business”; to care for family members in another household; or to engage in outdoor activity for exercise.

“Necessary supplies” doesn’t just cover groceries, but also booze and weed. I guess the local government is going easy on addicts. But you can’t go to a pub because that would involve a gathering, and that’s prohibited. Whatever we do, we have to stay six feet from others.


Can I throw a dinner party?

No. That’s actually a misdemeanor. But you can make your kids eat with you. My family has had some success with this.

What kinds of businesses are open?

Some take-out restaurants are open. Grocery stores are open, obviously. To my surprise, some bike shops are not only open, but at least one of them (I heard from a pal) was hopping the other day. But all our brothels are closed. (No, we have no brothels. Just making sure you’re awake.)


Are people in your ostensibly progressive community behaving in a somewhat racist fashion, for example by avoiding Chinese take-out?

Yep.

What is “bugging in”?

As detailed in this article, bugging in refers to hoarding tons of groceries and other supplies as though we actually needed to. I’m so glad I read that article because I learned that the Germans have a word for this: “Hamsterkäufe, meaning to shop like a nervous, bulging-cheeked hamster.”

I haven’t bothered to head over to Costco, but I saw plenty of bugging in at my local Safeway. The meat, dairy, bread, and pasta aisles were utterly ransacked. Check out this pasta section: a lone box of pasta, which was the weird tiny stuff that’s like gravel, was all they had left, and almost the only sauce remaining was the kale pesto. I’d hate to be the product manager for that variety.


I stood in line for half an hour in the Express Aisle with my ten items. Everybody was totally ignoring the 15-items-or-less rule. When this kind of societal breakdown happens, you know finally that the center cannot hold. You know what I call these kinds of shoppers? Express-holes.

Why do people stock up on toilet paper in particular?

Don’t read too much into this. If you were to tally up all the products related to what we take in, that would totally dwarf this lone output-related product. I suspect when people see others stocking up on toilet paper they probably assume there’s a valid reason behind it (which is giving their fellow man way too much credit, IMHO). Beyond that, I guess people just can’t handle the idea of what would happen if they ran out of toilet paper.

This is pretty silly, actually … I get that starvation would kind of suck, but it’s not like toilet paper is fundamental to sustaining life. As detailed here, Russia lacked toilet paper entirely during my own lifetime: “The first toilet paper factory in the USSR was built in 1969, but it took many more years to supply the huge country with this essential commodity.” Before that, the Russians just used old newspapers. Given their survival of those dark pre-TP days, I think we could probably manage somehow.

Myself, I haven’t bothered to lay in an extra supply. I suppose I could use this handy Online Toilet Paper Calculator to see how my household is doing, but I’m counting on our manufacturing industry to step up to the plate here. The guy at Safeway assures me their supply chain is only temporarily backed up.

Can I go outside to get exercise?

I’ve read a gazillion emails about this from the various cycling teams I’m hooked into. The short answer is yes, you can exercise outside, but not with others. The prohibition on “All travel, including, but not limited to, travel on foot, bicycle, scooter, motorcycle, automobile, or public transit” is mitigated by the stipulation that we may leave our homes “to engage in outdoor activity, provided the individuals comply with Social Distancing Requirements as defined in this Section, such as, by way of example and without limitation, walking, hiking, or running.”

Even before the shelter-in-place order, as acting head coach for the Albany Cougars I had to decide whether to hold practices after our NorCal League canceled our next two races. Other high school teams shut down upon hearing this, even before the schools closed. But all our assistant coaches were game to keep riding, as well as the riders, and the school was okay with us continuing. I worked out a whole protocol around COVID-19 (e.g., no water sharing; no food sharing; no riding two-abreast; all coaches outfitted with surgical gloves in case we have to provide first aid; multiple groups to maintain social distance, etc.). Everyone was game. In fact, I had riders asking if their friends could join us; a rider’s parent asking if his kid’s sister could join us; riders asking if friends from other (i.e., shut-down) teams could join us; even a parent asking if he could come. This was all before the shelter-in-place order came down, though. Now of course I’ve had to put the kibosh on team rides, though I have encouraged riders to still get out, and suggested they pick a common route and set out ten minutes apart, in case somebody has a bike problem etc.

Are locals taking advantage of their right to exercise outdoors?

Yes, totally. My wife and I took a walk up the main commercial street in our neighborhood to see what businesses were still open, and we’re pretty sure we’ve never seen so many people out walking. Cycling pals report that there are tons of hikers on the trails.

When out in public, is it difficult staying six feet apart?

It hasn’t been difficult, but it’s been a bit awkward. Amazon misdelivered a package to my house and when I took it over to drop it on my neighbor’s porch, he happened to be out front. I told him what happened and he strode toward me, looking all friendly like he might even shake my hand, and though I wouldn’t say I panicked, I was a bit startled. I set the package on the ground and stepped back a few feet, and he looked at me like I was crazy.

At Walgreens, those in line at the prescription counter were giving each other like eight feet. I even felt I had to ask, “Are you in line?”(thus running the risk of getting the response, “No, I’m just standing here like a jackass because I enjoy it,” though nobody said this). On my way out, I started down an aisle and some guy was coming my way. He stopped and stared at me, looking decidedly worried. Obviously the aisle was too narrow to allow us six feet of separation, but it’s not like either of us was coughing or anything. I turned around and headed off to find another aisle to head down, just to give the guy some slack.

While I was at the checkout somebody ran through the exit without paying for something, triggering the alarm (which announced in a robot voice, “Alarm activated, please return to your cashier” over and over), which the cashiers blithely ignored. I hadn’t found any rubbing alcohol on the shelves, but the casher had a stash behind the counter. “I have to keep it back here or people will steal it,” he said. (People used to steal Nyquil to cook meth with, but these are different times.)

In your last post you lamented the closing of Bay Area pubs. Is virtual pub night a thing?

I don’t know if it’s widespread, but three pals and I did have a virtual pub night over Zoom the other evening. I have to say, it worked even better than I’d expected. We had some good beers and some good laughs and the only time things bogged down was when my Internet connection temporarily dropped and we got sidetracked for a few minutes discussing the pros and cons of various video conferencing platforms before somebody pointed out how absolutely dull that is and what a bunch of irredeemable geeks we are. Other than that side-trip, it was a blast.


Here’s a little booze-related quiz for you: given the wobbly logic of COVID-19 paranoia, which of the beers shown below is safest for consumption?


I gave this quiz to a handful of people. Two picked the Stella, because of the paper on the neck that extends all the way to the cap. I’m not sure how this would help so I consider that a wrong answer. Two said the Westmalle, because (being a Belgian ale) it probably has the most alcohol. I suppose this was based on the dubious theory that ingesting alcohol could protect against the virus. But: wrong again. The correct answer is in fact the Westmalle, but not because of its ABV (though it’s a stellar 9.5%) but because it’s brewed in a Trappist abbey. Who could be better isolated from this virus than a bunch of monks? (Note: obviously you wouldn’t get COVID-19 from beer, but I did say “given the wobbly logic of COVID-19 paranoia.” In fact, on that basis all three answers are equally valid.)

Where can I get a list of fun things to do while sheltering in place?

You don’t even have to do an Internet search … just look in your Spam folder. I’ve been getting “helpful” emails from some realtor I’ve never done business with and a Toyota dealer I’ve never even heard of.

Are these lists useful?

No, of course not. The ideas are pretty dumb, like “get ahead on spring cleaning,” “create lists,” “fix up your house,” “fix your marriage” and a bunch of other nonsense. I think the best ways to pass the time are highly specific to your home situation. In my case, my older daughter was kicked out of her college dorm and sent home until October. So she’s spending her time learning to play Beatles and Radiohead songs on here ukulele and of course fighting with her little sister, who is pretty ticked at no longer having her own bedroom. One of my fun new activities is trying to figure out why my younger daughter’s homework submissions, via an online survey platform, are failing to go through.

My friend’s daughter Maddie staved off boredom yesterday by doing some bathroom sculpture using only materials found in her home:


I’d like to point out that the artist is not condoning tobacco use. In fact, the use of the toilet in this work is symbolic.

I forgot to stock up at the library before it closed. What can I do?

I’m assuming this question is sarcastic, making fun of my old-school habits, but I’m going to answer it anyway. Since your kid is probably trying out Netflix for 30 days (and will learn a hard lesson about how to extricate herself from these “special offers” later), you could watch any of the dozen or so movies that platform still offers. You could also see what online resources (e.g. Kanopy) your library has on offer for free.

Also, if you’re good at computer/Internet stuff, you can while away the hours doing remote tech support, helping an old person get all this to work on his or her tablet or laptop. This is a bit like teaching a cat to do algebra, communicating only by Braille. You will hear things like, “Oh no, it vanished.” You’ll be like, “What vanished?” And s/he will be like, “All of it!” And you’ll say, “The whole screen?” and s/he will say, “‘The New Yorker,’” and you’ll say, “You mean the window?” and s/he will say, “The Internet thing” and you’ll say, “The browser?” and s/he will say, “Well … the [unintelligible].”

Speaking of “The New Yorker,” shelter-in-place might finally give you time to catch up. You can view the entire archive online, all the way back to 1925, if you’re a subscriber. The other night my wife and I read a classic story from 1996 to our kids, who laughed all the way through it. Afterward we got into a lively literary discussion, which was a real kick, though it unsurprisingly ended with the kids fighting.

Are all English majors as insufferably self-satisfied as you?

No, I’m particularly bad.

Any tips for indoor workouts?

If you have your own Stairmaster, try to avoid the temptation to merely go through the motions, supporting most of your weight on your hands so your legs don’t have to work so hard. If you have a rowing machine, row merrily and remember that life is but a dream. If you ride your bike on a stationary trainer or rollers, here is a handy guide to getting the most out of that. In particular, make sure you have some righteous, hard-driving tunes as detailed here.

What is Zwift?

With a one-two cleaning punch, Swiffer Sweeper is designed to sweep and mop your floors. Thick dry sweeping cloths conform to the surface of your floors and grout lines, trapping and locking dirt. Wet mopping cloths dissolve dirt and grime for good, trapping it in its core and locking it away. There is no better way to protect your family from COVID-19 than to Swiff!

Not Swiff, numbnuts … Zwift!

Oh, sorry. Zwift is an indoor training système that attaches to your compliant $500-1000 indoor trainer so you race your friends in the virtual realm, explore real and imagined landscapes, follow detailed training plans, and more, blah blah blah … with your paid monthly subscription.

Do you recommend it?

I haven’t tried it … my kickass E-motion rollers aren’t compatible and I’m not about to replace them. But that’s okay … I’m thinking it’s about time to start heading outdoors again anyway.

More reading on the pandemic
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For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.