Smile-breaks
In Which I (try to) Dispense with the Roll Master
I leaned over and reached for it. Got a firm grip and tugged gently. Too gently, ’cause nothing came loose.
When I went at it again, I held the end of the flimsy paper firmly between my thumb and index finger and pulled lightly. This was not construction paper. It was prone to tearing upon the slightest provocation.
This time a scrap of paper the size of my thumbnail tore loose. The rest of the paper stayed where it was.
I didn’t want to sit here forever. I couldn’t leave until I ripped off a bunch of those little white squares. As I considered my next move, I noticed the engraving on the aluminum shield above the roll. “Roll Master.”
Well. I know a challenge when I see one. But from a toilet paper dispenser?
Okay. You may be the Roll Master, but I’m bigger than you and…
Darn! Why couldn’t I have got one of those smoky plastic roll holders that cover half the wall? At least they let you pull streams of paper from their innards. You have to reach inside up to your elbow – don’t lean too far! - before you can get hold of the end of the roll, but once you have it, the paper comes out willingly.
Yep. It keeps coming and coming and coming and those serrated edges on either side – well, neither one of them is sharp enough to cut the paper. For months I thought it was me. I’m left-handed, you know, so I always tear from the left.
One day it dawned on me - heck! I bet I’m s’posed to tear it from the other side.
I tried the other side. The paper twisted and turned and kept coming and coming ’til it was all over the floor.
I still haven’t figured out the secret to those giant over-sized roll dispensers. Every once in a while I get lucky and the paper tears. Most of the time, I waste a lot of paper bending and twisting it over the dull serrated edge until finally I just pull it all into my lap and break it off.
Getting back to Roll Master: The roll in this particular toilet paper dispenser was more firmly attached than any I’ve ever met and believe me, I’ve met a whole lot of rolls of toilet paper in my lifetime.
Some of which fall at my feet the minute I touch them, spindle and all. Which gives me a choice: I can set the roll back where it belongs and tear off the paper that touched the floor and throw that part away before I try again, or I can pick up the roll, peel off the exposed paper and unroll enough for my circumstances and place the roll on the back of the toilet tank. If there is one… but that’s a story for another day.
And then there are the rock ’n roll-ers. You know, where you grab the end of the roll and the spindle falls forward and suddenly jumps back, leaving you sitting there with a half of a square of paper in your fist. You can sit and play that game for five minutes before you get enough paper to do the deed.
But I like my rolls at home the best of all. They roll smoothly and give me just what I want and if I could only get someone else to put on a new roll instead of always leaving the round brown paper core for me to dispense with, home would be the place to go.
Roll Master? He won.