Sunday, July 28, 1996
Quality time on the john stirs thoughts on UCLA's funding cutsBy Sharon Levy
When I first came to North Campus over a year ago, I experienced a major culture shock: not all buildings on campus have bathrooms equipped with toilet seat covers. You may wonder how I could have worked on campus for years and not have known. Well, in my former employ located in South Campus, specifically, the Center for the Health Sciences, I only saw bathrooms that were properly equipped with all the essentials and so took it for granted that all of UCLA enjoyed similar amenities. I never dreamed things could be otherwise. Although the old refrain that the university lacks respect for staff is no stranger to my ears, I assumed that at least we all merited being able to relieve ourselves with the dignity provided in part by toilet seat covers.
Of course, I got over this cultural shock but it took a little time. I had been an activist during my last few years in South Campus and so could clearly perceive that the issue of toilet seat covers was unquestionably a worthy cause. However, no longer a dreamy-eyed idealist, I had to face some tough realities. If the worker and student unions were unwilling to take on this issue, how dare I, holding a new position, run around urging people to sign petitions when I risked rocking the boat?
Furthermore, an eminent faculty member dismissed the whole issue of toilet seat covers as a girlie thing and insisted that according to the latest research in the area of public health, seat covers are unnecessary.
Meanwhile my family worried that if I didn't halt my activism, I would flush my career down the drain. So, I chose prudence over vision, and I let go of notions such as petitioning or picketing for toilet seat covers. Yes, I had the cool to envision organized picketing of Murphy Hall with placards emblazoned with slogans such as "Toilet Seat Covers Now!" But instead, I chose to beat a hasty retreat from activism and put all my energy into being the best little low-profile drone you ever could hope to see, if you could. And believe me, my profile was so low that even the lowly earthworm had a higher profile than me.
While I had rejected activism as a way to remedy the Rolfe Hall bathroom situation, I still had to find some personal resolution, so that I would not feel unnecessary alarm shortly after downing a liter of Evian. I became pro-active and searched till I located facilities near Rolfe equipped with all the creature comforts to accommodate urgent needs. I began to spend my break times relieving myself at the North Campus eatery or alternatively at one of the lovely bathrooms at the Anderson School. I could sing endless praises to the clean, pleasant smelling and very well equipped bathrooms of the Anderson School. Why, they even have a cleaning solution dispenser hanging inside each toilet bowl, emitting a pleasing royal blue liquid with each flush. But for the sake of brevity, I'll just give a hearty two thumbs up for Anderson School bathrooms.
Sometimes, however, I had to resort to using Rolfe's toilets. Fortunately, I was usually prepared for such occasions owing to a newly-acquired practice: scavenging for toilet seat covers. Upon hearkening to the call of nature, say, while mall shopping, once I had secured myself in a bathroom stall, I'd reach towards the toilet seat dispenser, greedily eyeball its paper contents, and think how nice it would be to pull out "one for now, one for Monday, one for Tuesday ..." I'd end up leaving the mall with seat covers protruding from my purse's side pocket but no one ever said anything. Still, I didn't feel good about this scavenging behavior which I suspected was beginning to affect my self-esteem. I confided to my mom that more than anything I wanted to feel good about myself again. Without hesitation, she quipped "Quit squirreling away seat covers!" Her simple, sage advice made sense and so I stopped this scurrilous habit cold-turkey. No longer did I even covet others' toilet seat covers. My self-esteem began to recover and I learned to make due like everyone else with what The-Powers-That-Be had failed to provide Rolfe bathrooms.
In no time at all, I became an expert at making toilet paper seat coverings. I now have it down to a formula: roll out two longish lengths and two shorter lengths and neatly arrange sections upon the seat before plopping one's buttocks down. The obvious drawback is that going to the bathroom in Rolfe is a production in more ways than one.
Now, I'm normally not shy to ask questions, but at the same time, my North Campus experience has taught me to be circumspect before sticking my neck out. While the seasons come and go, I have held off asking the one question that has been gnawing at my craw: Why? Why, for goodness sake, can't the staff of Rolfe enjoy equal rights with other staff on campus as regards bathroom accouterments, such as toilet seat covers?
I asked this question to the air in a Rolfe bathroom recently while watching in frustration as my toilet coverings slipped off the seat. The air, of course, remained dutifully silent. After some reflection, I thought "Hell, girl, the boat be damned; let UCLA rock." I emerged from that bathroom with a determined attitude to query management about the failure of departments housed in Rolfe to provide staff with toilet seat covers. Management's explanation was the same as usual: there is no money. (Of course, there was money to dig up the courtyard last year and put in a horrid sculpture garden.) Allegedly, the decision to forego providing toilet seat covers was based on the cost of installing dispensers for them. In addition, some feared that since the bathrooms are public, Rolfe's various departments might end up spending a small fortune to regularly keep the dispensers filled. Yet, logically speaking from the perspective of cost-benefit analysis, isn't it cheaper to provide the seat covers rather than for us staff to be engaged in making our own? Also, what percentage of the population that uses Rolfe's bathrooms are public and what percentage are faculty, staff and students?
You may disagree with me, but I think that the benchmark for judging whether or not a university is a world-class one is the bathroom. If UCLA is too miserly to provide the barest minimum in comfort so that one may protect one's hindmost part, then one might well wonder if the university itself has its shit together or is it in deep doo-doo?
I'd like to add a cautionary note. With the advent of Responsibility Center Management (RCM), the budget decentralization plan that Chancellor Young wishes UCLA to adopt before he retires, instead of concerning ourselves with what we lack, maybe we need to think about how to maintain the bathroom basics we still have. After RCM begins, will your responsibility center continue to provide the toilet paper or even soap and water? Hey, someone has to pay for these things; life is not free. Or, maybe management might decide not to worry about your ass or mine. Hmm, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Sharon Levy is a Student Affairs Assistant at Rolfe Hall, where she is involved with ESL Service Courses.