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.