I admit it. I’ve always liked to judge things. Everything is a scale to me. This probably stems from being an elementary teacher for more than 30 years. I have been forced to assess everything from reading comprehension to keeping track of how many times Kelly blurted in class for a day. I believe we all can find a lot of fun during the most mundane parts of our lives by grading them. I’ve shared this love of grading with my friends and family over the years, and now it’s time to share it with you, dear reader.
The Bathroom Scale
Let’s talk about the bathroom scale. No, not that bathroom scale; the bathroom rating scale! Over the years, I’ve noticed that some public bathrooms desperately need an upgrade. So, I developed a one-through-ten scale for public bathrooms, rating them for all my friends and family. Public bathrooms are a fun way to put my need to grade things to use. Plus, being able to know which bathrooms I can confidently go into throughout this universe is important to me.
To fully understand the rating scale, you first need to understand what a “one” looks like. It was in a gas station my family owned, where I hung out a lot in my childhood. This particular bathroom required a key to get in, which was attached to a large wooden paint stirrer. It gave me the heebie-jeebies just to touch the thing, especially back before hand sanitizer was invented.
I’d walk around to the side of the gas station, insert the key, and enter a wasteland of cracked tile, spiderwebs, and centipedes. The toilet seat was often so disgusting that even the “hover method” didn’t always seem adequate. On bad days, the toilet seat wasn’t even attached to the toilet.
When I finished my business, I’d try to find toilet paper that didn’t look pre-soaked. Washing my hands involved pressing down on a rusty doohickey that spurted out cold water. Instead of soap in a dispenser, it had a pot of something called Gojo – a greasy, slimy, blue-green mess that smelled like a mixture of Ivory soap and cheap tree air fresheners.
The frigid water mixed with the Gojo, creating a paste that wouldn’t come off my hands… ever. It’s still there. Wanna see? The mirror above the sink was a medicine cabinet, probably more than 40 years old, with glass that had turned into black cracks that would impress a haunted house. This bathroom was a solid “one” on my rating scale.
From One to Ten
And so, in 1973, the bathroom rating system was born. Just about every bathroom in America, public, or otherwise, beats out the gas station bathroom of my memories. Even a hole in the woods beats that one.
I would like to tell you that I have found the perfect “ten” bathroom, but I haven’t seen it yet. I know that “The Royals” must have a “ten” bathroom somewhere nearby, and I’m sure many of you reading this have stayed in a luxurious hotel that had a perfect bathroom.
Finding a perfect “ten,” however, is not the point. Being able to share your rating number with your friends and loved ones after using a public bathroom is the bathroom rating scale fun. Odds are, they will be immediately compelled to check it out and become a bathroom rater themselves.
How to Become a Bathroom Rater
If you want to rate public bathrooms as well, here are the parameters on which we judge: cleanliness is crucial. Hands-free fixtures always get higher ratings – hands-free toilet flushing, sinks, and paper towel dispensers. The less you must touch, the better.
The decor should not be camouflage for disrepair. It should not distract or overwhelm you. Bowls of potpourri are not going to get you any extra points, but fresh flowers will give at least a one-half point addition. If a restaurant has a fancy lotion dispenser or a basket of tampons just sitting there to use – bonus point! I haven’t needed a tampon for over a decade, but still – free things!
The point to all this is finding fun in the mundane.
Let’s face it: going to the bathroom is boring. When I’m out to dinner with someone who knows me best, they will return from a trip to the bathroom, sit back down in their seat, and simply say their rating. Afterward, they will need to defend their grade, and inevitably, someone else at the table will go check it out to see if they concur (whether they need to use the bathroom or not).
I realize we should be having a deep conversation while we wait for our food, but with politics, religion, and the economy off the table, this is much safer.
Roadkill Grading System
While the bathroom rating system is what started it all, it certainly is not the only rating system commonly used in the family. As my sons became teachers too, we became a family of teachers, and after years of grading bathrooms, my creative (?!) boys started a simple roadkill grading system.
The boredom of long trips on the road and playing the license plate game one too many times, led to this system. We’ve perfected our scale over the years. Initially, we had a scale from “one” to “ten,” and suffice it to say, a “one” was a recently deceased animal, and you could tell what it had been. A “ten,” was merely a pile of something that made you look away either in disgust or sadness.
One day, I got a text from my family group chat, reminding me of our long-standing tradition. Since my boys now grade things for a living, they have refined the scale to a nice rubric from “one” to “five.” Here’s how it works:
- Number One: Open casket.
- Number Two: Bloated.
- Number Three: Mild dismemberment. You can still kind of tell what animal it is/was.
- Number Four: Smears and dental ID needed.
- Number Five: Ground beef. (Or venison, porcupine, skunk – you get the idea.)
Of course, my younger son chimed in, insisting we still need a scale of one to ten because he’s a stickler for precision. He claims the point system otherwise ends up with too many 0.5s. Either way, we find immense fun in this morbid little game as we drive down the road. We still play the license plate game, but this is much more engaging for the childish adult in me. Maybe I should be working towards an article called “Fun Adult Road Trip Games.” What do you think?
Food and Beverage Ratings
My family has also embraced rating various foods and beverages. We have rated weird sparkling water flavors (pickle!), beers from microbreweries, tequilas, and chocolate. It’s clear that cheap chocolate wrapped in colorful foil usually scores a “one” or “two” on our scale.
A Hershey Bar might be controversial, but it’s a solid middle “five” for us. When it comes to Dove, Godiva, and other possibly higher-end chocolates, opinions vary depending on whether the preference is dark, milk, or chocolates with add-ins.
One rainy, week-at-the-cabin afternoon, we spent hours tasting different colas. The most shocking discovery was that Pepsi Zero tasted delicious and sugary to most of us. I’ve learned not to judge based on popular belief but to trust our family’s ratings instead.
Maybe We Need Therapy?
In the end, it’s all about finding fun in the mundane. (And also, maybe my family needs group therapy.) Whether it’s grading roadkill, bathrooms, or chocolate, we’ve turned everyday activities into delightful family traditions. We also have found an excuse to eat and drink some rather delicious things for the sake of science. And isn’t that what life’s all about? Embracing the ordinary with a touch of humor and a bit of the unexpected.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Do you, or the friends and family in your life, have a fun activity you do together that is as strange as this? Do you have a grading scale for something? How do you find fun in the mundane? Are you more patient than me and have suggestions for passing time during the more boring parts of life?
