Sandbox Studios: 52@40: Washroom Attendant

Notes from the Attendant:

It took a while to get this project off the ground. How, when and where to do it? Most local restaurant bathrooms are for individuals or unisex, which wouldn't be very contusive for such a venture. After some thought I approached the manager of a local ÒartsyÓ restaurant/bar, Bryant Lake Bowl about the project. I figured since they hosted spoken word, performance art and musical events, that they would be up far anything. Unfortunately, the manager's reaction was a quick firm ÒNOÓ. He explained that while Òthey support the arts and want to encourage creative projects like mineÓ, Òthey are very busy and their bathrooms are too small to have someone standing aroundÓ. This news was very disappointing; the ÒBLBÓ seemed like the perfect place. I then began to survey friends. Many had no opinion other than that it was one of my ÒweirderÓ projects and they felt sorry for me having to deal with it. Luckily, the curators and a couple of other friends had some new ideas outside of the restaurant. Mall of America, roadside rest station and the airport all seemed like great recommendations. After some thought, I decided that the Minneapolis/ St. Paul International Airport was the place.

I developed an array of services to offer there ranging from towels and tissues to aftershave and breath mints. Since it was a great marketing opportunity for the project, I made 52@40 labels for must of the products and printed out some simple cards describing the project and the how to access the web site. As for dress, I decided to go formal. Who is going to argue with a man in black pants, a freshly pressed white shirt and a black bow tie. This was to be class act.

It was a 90-degree plus day and the drive to the airport in a non-air-conditioned car was a bit on the hot side. Once inside a assumed my new persona, carrying my wooden service box to the larger restroom in the baggage claim area of the arrival floor. I quick affixed a sign to the center of the mirror which described the free services offered and emphasized that there was absolutely no tipping. I ripped half dozen towels off my roll, neatly folded them, draped them over my right arm and turned to the door to welcome my first customer.

I greeted each who entered with a nod and a warm smile standing perfectly still between the four sinks and four urinals. Across from me were five stalls, half of which were almost always occupied.

Only three of the four automatic sinks worked and only one had a working soap dispenser. I usually broke the silence by directing clients to the working sinks and soap. As soon as they pulled their clean hands from beneath the water I would say ÒTowel Sir?Ó, putting the towel almost in their hands. Those who accepted the towel usually did so graciously. Those who said something in return were offered an additional service, Ògum, mints, comb?Ó Most turned it down, but a few were intrigued by the other goodies available in the 52@40 service box.

Customers seemed to come in four varieties. Those who avoided the service, those who quietly accepted the service, those enthusiastically accepted the service with great interest and those who for some strange reason seemed to expect the service.Those who avoided accepting a towel seemed to be well aware that they were going to be offered one, but swiftly moved to the paper towel dispenser that was in the opposite direction from my position. One man pulled a three-foot strip of towel from the dispenser, stuffing the end of it in his pocket before even beginning to wash his hands. Most of these folks seemed to be the Òavoid anything unusualÓ types of Minnesotans. I believe a few thought they were avoiding a tip.

Those who quietly accepted the towel were typically kind, thanking me with a smile or a few kind words. Most customers would slow down and very carefully dry every part of their hands with the ÒspecialÓ towel, often wiping off their face with it afterwards. A few were confused with what to do with the towel once they were done using it. I had to reassure more than a dozen people that it was all right to throw it in the trash once they were finished with it.

Ten percent of the customers were enthusiastic about the service, asking question like ÒWhat's this all about?Ó, ÒWhen did they start this?Ó, ÒAre you here everyday now?Ó I'd smile and tell them that is was a special one day service, a part of a personal project that I was working on. Those who inquired further were offered a 52@40 project card to learn more about the project. Some of the most enthusiastic customers were the airport employees such as pilots, baggage handlers, ground crew, mechanics, counter staff and particularly the airport police. These were the folks I was the most leery of at first, but soon came to realize that they were my best customers. Word seemed to get out after an hour or so, and as time went on, the percentage of airport personnel increased. They were a talkative group, many taking advantage of the other services, particularly mints and gum.

People of color and children were also every excited to see the washroom attendant. Almost all of them were very friendly and most wanted to know why I was doing this. One small blonde-haired boy came up to me and with a sense of wonder asked ÒIs this your job?Ó. I explained that it was, but just for the day and that tomorrow I would be doing something completely different. He smiled broadly, shook his head and said ÒThat's so awesomeÓ. I thanked him as he walked away shaking his blonde curls.

The group that seemed to expect the service was to me the most fascinating. Most of this group were foreign, some speaking little if any English. Different from the other groups, these folks would approach me with a hand extended to receive a towel. Once they had one, they would use it just as if they had received it from a machine, often not even acknowledging my existence as another human being. Why? I'm not sure. My guess is that some were from cities and countries where this type of service is common and expected and in other cases, the environment was so foreign to them that they were just going with the flow. I should note, that I was never treated rudely by any of the customers, the worst was just being ignored or not being personally acknowledged.

Even with the sign, and with my Òthank you is all I needÓ, many customers felt obligated to try to tip me. A few folks walked back into the bathroom, or walked back by the urinals to dig a tip out of their pockets. Even a very young boy reached into his pocket to try to offer me some change. I always took it as a compliment, explained that my services were a gift to them, and always left them with a smile.

By the end of the 3-hour stint, I had served approximately 250 customers towels, gum, mints and a few combs (many people told me they don't use combs, I don't). I was so busy and got so caught up in the rhythm of the work that I found it hard to leave. There were only two short instances when I didn't have a customer. I needed a replacement, Foghorn Redhorn should have been punching in as I was packing up. There were going to be customers unserved and it felt wrong.

On the way to escalator, on my way out I was approached by a young ROTC male who I had served ten minutes earlier. He was in a panic and asked if I had seen him leave the washroom with his bag. He had lost track of it and was very upset. Someone needs to look after all these peopleÉ