I make it a point to try to learn something new every day. Today, for example, I learned that the toilet paper used in my dormitory is almost a full half-inch smaller in width than the standard size for toilet paper squares. According to http://www.toiletpaperworld.com, the standard size for toilet paper is 4.5 inches by 4.5 inches. Ours is a mere 4.5 inches by 4 inches. This indicates, normally, a cheaper brand of toilet paper.
This should come as no surprise to anyone who’s ever had occasion to make use of the bathrooms in the dorms on campus. Ah yes, good old SCA Main Street toilet paper, 1,000 squares of one-ply goodness. And by goodness, I mean thin paper with the same approximate tensile strength as, say, a wet sheet of newspaper.
Why do I know this, you might be wondering. Who cares what size the toilet paper is? Well, I do, for one, and for a particular reason. My curiosity was piqued when I noticed, as many of you probably did, that the toilet paper dispensers used in many housing facilities on campus have a distinct tendency not to allow the toilet paper to actually move, forcing you to pull on it with more force than it can withstand. This results in half of a sheet of torn toilet paper, normally at a moment when slightly more than that is needed.
I won’t go into details, but let us simply state that I am a large man, and I eat at the commons. Half of a square of toilet paper isn’t going to do the trick.
So I felt a little research was in order. The toilet paper purchased by our beloved alma mater is evidently purchased in bulk, as the roll currently residing in the restroom in Oak Hall, which I make frequent use of, is dated 2001.
I looked up the toilet paper’s product number [TS1630, for the curious] and discovered that at retail prices, $64 gets you 96 rolls of this one-ply bathroom tissue. That works out to roughly 65 cents per roll. Multiply this by bulk savings discounts, and you’re talking about pennies per roll. Good economics, but as any decent comedian will tell you, good TP is worth the extra dollar.
Now, after investigating the toilet paper in far more depth than any rational person would, I went into the throne room with my trusty tape measure and checked out the dispenser. It is manufactured by Kimberly Clark, and to the best of my knowledge is similar to the ‘Performa Continumatic’ brand bathroom tissue dispenser offered for retail sale at http://www.kimberlyclark.com.
There are two places in this type of dispenser for a roll of toilet paper to dangle from, one on top of the other, hidden from prying eyes by a lock which I elected, after consideration, not to pick open. Hence, I assume, the title ‘Continumatic’ – when one roll is gone, you can go right ahead and use the other one.
The space wherein the paper is supposed to go is 4.75 inches in length. Or is it? Look closer next time you’re in the stall; there are two protrusions, each of which is approximately one-eighth of an inch long, upon which the innermost parts of the roll are resting. The rolls of the particular brand of toilet paper the U of M uses, which you will note by looking at the Kimberly Clark Web site for this particular toilet paper dispenser, are not listed among the “recommended products for this dispenser code,” are exactly 4.5 inches long. And, as all of us smart college students should at least theoretically be aware, 4.5 inches plus two-eighths of an inch equals 4 and six-eighths, or 4.75.
That effectively narrows the amount of space between toilet paper and toilet paper dispenser to zero – net effect of which is that the toilet paper doesn’t move well. Or, more to the point, it doesn’t move at all, because when you pull on it, the one-ply toilet paper rips off in your hand before you can exert enough force to get the darn thing to move.
So why am I telling you all this? Just take one of the spare rolls and use that, you say. Or just unroll it manually instead of pulling on it to unroll it. Or do something else constructive other than complain. I’ll tell you why. I am telling you all about this for one reason, and one reason only. To convince the school to buy toilet paper that fits in the damn dispenser.
Because having it tear off in your hand is needlessly annoying for someone who already has to use the toilet more often than they want to because it was Mexican night at the commons.
Brian Sylvester tells people not to squeeze the Charmin.












