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View all search resultsIn my office restroom thereâs a poster describing the five steps of good hand-washing technique
n my office restroom there's a poster describing the five steps of good hand-washing technique. And an automatic motion-sensor tap that gives me a splash of water exactly 0.0000013 of a second long in which to do them.
Tech and toilets mix badly. True story, sent in by a reader: A Texas mayor called Dale Ross recently popped out of a meeting of council officials for a toilet break ' but forgot to remove his lapel microphone.
Each noisy stage of his restroom visit was broadcast at loud volume into the council chamber, bringing hysterical laughter and the eventual collapse of proceedings. He returned a minute later to find everyone in the chamber stunned, and his deputy speaker sprawled forward over her desk, shaking.
Staff should have done the right thing and spared his blushes by pretending there had been a nerve gas attack by ISIS (which is what I prefer to call Islamic State movement) or something.
But instead they took the despicable, disloyal action of tipping off reporters and posting the video to YouTube, I'm delighted to say. This gives me hope for humanity.
Fact is, far too many things are blamed on ISIS these days. Me: 'Who took my lunch from the office fridge?' Colleagues: 'All signs point to ISIS.' Me: 'But it was a ham and cheese sandwich.'
Microphone gaffes are common. After TV weatherman Al Roker last year took his live microphone to the toilet, a memorable headline appeared on Today.com: 'Al Roker Brings New Meaning to Live Stream.'
Mics are trouble even outside the restroom. I remember a few years ago, a TV sports commentator named Dean Jones noted a new brown-skinned player in the South African cricket team and said to a colleague: 'The terrorist has got another wicket!' His mic was on, so he was sacked, since not all brown people are terrorists, unless you steal our lunches from the office fridge, in which case I make no guarantees about anything.
Once I was invited to a society party in Hong Kong and I warned the hostess that a TV crew was due to follow me around that day. Everything went fine until it was time for the guest of honor to give a speech. The mic on my lapel was small, and the TV crew was zooming in from the far side of the room, so the hostess forgot that everything was being recorded.
She leaned over to me and whispered right into my microphone: 'We have to invite this guy, but he's such a ^#&$%* boring piece of ^&%$.' She continued in this colorful vein for what seemed like hours while I tried to use subtle eye movements, telepathy, hidden hand-flutters, etc., to warn her to stop, but nothing worked.
That portion of film was not broadcast but the crew kept it in the 'file footage' box for later use for purposes of blackmail, extortion, etc. The camera guy is probably at this very moment holidaying in one of her villas at some beach resort.
Now you've finished reading a column which mentions toilets, remember to wash your hands for at least 0.0000013 of a second. You may now steal my lunch.
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The writer is a columnist and journalist.
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