Buying Toilet Paper

April 1, 2020

The current run [1] on toilet paper is not a big deal; it’s trivial, I know.  After this Covid-19 pandemic is over (Please God!), the TP story will survive only as a footnote in the many books that will come out focusing on the folly, misery and unimaginable tragedy. [2] The following anecdote is just one of millions here in the US, most of which are surely funnier or more interesting.  The reader, therefore, is warned—and may at the same time be relieved that I’ll not discuss this catastrophe, though I am well aware of it.  (How could one not be aware?) 

This morning at about 6:45 I made an early run (sorry!) to a big supermarket on the north side of town, not the usual one we shop at.  I’d recently learned that it was open for “seniors and vulnerable” only on Wednesdays from 6:00 to 9:00.   I was pleased to see, as I approached, the huge parking was not crowded at all.  Entering the store, and using one of the wipes [3] to wipe [3] off the handle of a cart, I was relieved [3]to see a sparse contingent of shoppers, three or four of whom were wearing masks.  And I noticed that a few of them were neither seniors, pregnant, nor obviously disabled; steering clear and not making eye contact, I inwardly registered mild indignation.

Toilet paper was not on my list.  I proceeded first to the produce section and had a small insight: This is what human beings look for first, fresh fruit and vegetables—a carryover from our arboreal primate past.  That’s why it’s the first section—on the left in some stores, on the right in others—as you circumambulate the store.  Then you proceed to the meat, dairy, and last the canned and dried stuff, recapitulating the progression of dietary priorities of homo sapiens.  I got some apples and bananas.

My list wasn’t long, and toilet paper wasn't on it.  I was curious about shortages of some other items, however.  I found myself in the rice aisle and noticed that it had been cleaned off—all the bags of white and brown rice.  That’s where I encountered another old guy, who wanted to talk.  He was thin, scruffy and bearded, and I immediately became suspicious of him in a way I would not be in normal times.   He approached me, getting much closer than the recommended six feet, and started talking.  I cannot remember what he was talking about; I just remember being nervous and trying to back away and leave the aisle.  I may have mumbled something like, “Oh, thanks…well, good luck to you, sir!”  There was some Rice-a-roni left, so as i sidled away I grabbed a couple of the kind that my wife Em likes.

Toilet paper was not on my list, but I went to the aisle just to see if there was any in stock.  Wow, there was!  Though not much.   I stood there staring at the seven or eight packages, (big ones, each with twelve rolls) remaining on the shelves. (“One to a Customer, Please!”)   Should I?  Shouldn’t I?  as happens ever more frequently these days, like J. Alfred F*%#ing Prufrock.  I might even have had my finger on chin, despite the admonition to avoid touching my face.  

Another old guy was standing nearby and doing the same thing.  Fortunately, this one seemed aware of the six-foot rule.  It did not stop him from striking up a conversation, though.  He may even have been inclined to greater loquacity because of the restriction.  (Hell, that 6-foot deal ain’t gonna keep me from talkin’!  I’ll talk to my fuckin’ neighbor if I goddam want to!  Shee-it!  I’m a fuckin’ human bein’!) After I expressed my surprise that there actually was some toilet paper, he started talking, and I again I can’t remember much of what he said.  The gist was that TP hoarders were stupid people, and probably on the far right of the political spectrum.  “And these are the same people who get all upset when the NFL players kneeled down during the national anthem!”  he said.

I couldn’t see the connection, and I wasn’t inclined to argue the point.  I was still hosting an inward debate, Prufrock-like, whether to grab some TP for myself and put it in my cart.

Two days later, I’m still thinking of those two old guys, wondering if they live alone and maybe come to Supermarket Senior Hour more to socialize than to buy necessities.  As for me, I’m not one to socialize with strangers at the supermarket.  Normally.  (I’ve got a life-companion at home who can talk to strangers till the cows come home.) But now I’m thinking, well, these aren’t normal times, are they?  Maybe next time I visit the supermarket, when some geezer comes up and starts talking, I’ll stand there, look him in the eyes, and listen for a few minutes, even if it’s total rubbish…but keeping my six feet of separation.  Maybe.

Back at the supermarket, I rolled my cart to the check-out stand.  Yes, there was toilet paper in it.  (See photo.)  My checker was a young woman (seemingly unconcerned by close contact with us codgers), who was also ready to talk.  I admitted to her (I don’t know why; maybe I’m more willing to talk to attractive young women than to farts of my own age and appearance.) that I felt a little guilty about buying the toilet paper.  

“I’m surprised there’s still some left,” she said.  (The store had been open for only an hour and a half.)  “I think it’s coming back.  Back to normal in a week, I guess.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what’s going on with that,” I said.

“It’s a control issue,” she posited confidently, and briefly elaborated as she rang up my items.  My wife Em has a similar view, though combines it with “anal retentiveness,” [4] something she picked up long ago in her undergrad Psych course.  I shared with her that it might have something to do with whiteness and purity.  After all, other items in short supply, such as sugar, flour, and rice, are also white.  Also Ivory, bleach and other cleaning products. 

Until I started writing this, I really had no hypotheses other than the vague Whiteness and “People are stupid,” theories, so I started looking on Google, thinking: Hmm, maybe there are real reasons for this.  Not surprisingly, there is already a growing literature of speculation and “expert” opinion from journalists, economists and psychologists.  

It turns out that “People are Stupid,” though certainly true, doesn’t go far enough to explain the run on TP.  A better nut-shell hypothesis might be “People are human, and act according to their nature and instincts, honed by evolution.”  A very simple explanation (even one I can understand), is the Bandwagon Effect, a slightly more sophisticated version of  "Monkey see, Monkey do."  People see other people loading up on TP, they see the empty shelves at their own stores and especially on TV, and they think, "Hmm, we better get us some, too, if/while we can."

The best article I've read so far (By no means have I made an exhaustive survey), is by Will Oremus, writing for Marker:

"In short, the toilet paper industry is split into two, largely separate markets: commercial and consumer. The pandemic has shifted the lion’s share of demand to the latter. People actually do need to buy significantly more toilet paper during the pandemic — not because they’re making more trips to the bathroom, but because they’re making more of them at home. With some 75% of the U.S. population under stay-at-home orders, Americans are no longer using the restrooms at their workplace, in schools, at restaurants, at hotels, or in airports."

In his view, it will take a long time, if ever,  for the two distinct segments of the market to adjust, quite possibly longer than the duration of the peak period(s) of the pandemic.

Meanwhile, we've got enough of the precious stuff at home, 24 rolls by last count. (The equivalent of one big package of Costco Kirkland,) and enough to give to a needy neighbor should she run low.

Take it One to a Customer, dear friends, till better times!

NOTES:

1. Unintended play on words.  It occurred only after thinking of the phrase that “current” comes from the Latin currere, to run.  

2.  I say "unimaginable for a reason."  I remember only one quote ascribed (rightly or wrongly) to Joseph Stalin: “One death is a tragedy.  A million deaths is a statistic.”  Humans evolved over several million years in small group environments, and so we grieve the loss of people close to us.  Anthropologists point out that each of us has a circle of about 150 people we would genuinely grieve for.  In our distant past, people never saw more than that number of fellow creatures at any time in their lives.  Large numbers, at least as they represented people, were abstract; there was no need to understand them.  They might see teeming ants, termites, and vast flocks of animals and birds, but people, no. 

Until about 10,000 years ago, traditional (inter- and intra-tribal) warfare was constant, but the most to die in any one conflict were maybe 20—50.  People could wrap their heads around numbers like that, and grieve accordingly, but not deaths in the 100s, 1000s and 1,000,000s.

Even in modern times, only a small percentage of us have ever had to witness directly the result of industrial-scale human carnage.  Those who have--like the first responders at the Trade Center or the teams of soldiers and doctors who went into Nazi concentration camps, Hiroshima,and Nagasaki after the A-bombs—those are the ones that truly understand that kind of numeracy, when abstract numbers becomes real.

For another point of view, see

“Why is the death of one million a statistic? Why we feel the least when we are needed most “

Posted Mar 14, 2010

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/life-autopilot/201003/why-is-the-death-one-million-statistic

More about Stalin’s quote at https://quoteinvestigator.com/2010/05/21/death-statistic/  Obviously, it’s not something Uncle Joe would have wanted on the record, inasmuch as he was directly responsible for each one of those millions of individual deaths.

3.  Sorry, sorry, sorry.  

4.  Anal Retentiveness.  Goes back to Freud, apparently.  I never took Psych in college.  See https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/psychoanalysis-unplugged/201904/why-am-i-so-anal

REFERENCES:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/science-and-philosophy/202003/why-toilet-paper

https://psychcentral.com/blog/why-are-people-hoarding-toilet-paper/

https://www.inverse.com/mind-body/11-irrational-psychological-reasons-we-panic-buy-toilet-roll

https://marker.medium.com/what-everyones-getting-wrong-about-the-toilet-paper-shortage-c812e1358fe0