On the other hand, there are countless pyramid schemes and labyrinthine scams in play here that bring fresh new meaning to the word "crooked." Alas, there’s a sucker lining up every minute.
But the Reader’s Digest survey did bring home some good points. Filipinos aren’t as hard-hearted as some Asians: They’ll return a lost wallet, or give back extra change from a cashier. They won’t necessarily snitch on a friend who’s been catting around town with another woman, but that’s probably because they wouldn’t want to be snitch-ee, either.
Still, though Filipinos are friendlier and more honest than most people on the planet, there is one area in life where honesty is simply not the best policy. I’m talking about the widespread absence of toilet paper in public restrooms. Clearly, some thievery is afoot.
Many a foreigner receives the shock of his life upon entering a cubicle to do business, only to realize – to their mounting horror and incomprehension – that there’s not a single layer of paper to be found. Anywhere. A cursory inspection of other stalls leaves one similarly empty-handed. Save for a small, plastic container (known as a tabo) found next to most toilets, there are simply no tools or implements that will help a clueless foreigner.
Where does the toilet paper go? Well, one quickly learns that very few establishments bother to include such an exotic item as bathroom tissue in their line budgets. This is because, A) It’s a Third World country and most places can’t afford toilet paper and there are few enough trees as it is, so why push the issue, and B) There are roaming packs of thieves apparently stealing the toilet paper.
Yes, despite the glowing results of the Reader’s Digest survey, Filipinos are inveterate toilet-paper snatchers. It is a great problem. Owners of restaurants, malls, and office buildings have long dismissed the notion that they can trust Filipinos to use toilet paper responsibly. They have wised up to the vast conspiracy to pilfer tissue, and have tightened their belts (literally) on the matter.
It really is a problem. I don’t know exactly how it’s coordinated, but these crafty crooks manage to know precisely when the paper dispensers are refilled each night. And then, with Mission Impossible-like stealth and daring, they strike, managing to make off with this precious booty without ever leaving a paper trail.
True, no one has ever witnessed such a heist with their own eyes, but that’s because the crooks are too crafty, too wily, to be caught with their backpacks or purses overflowing with white rolls. Sadly, as long as video cameras are prohibited in public bathrooms, irrefutable evidence may never be obtained.
So there is simply a common perception – an understanding, if you will – that, in this area of public life, Filipinos are not as upstanding as Reader’s Digest would have us believe. They just can’t be trusted around Kleenex.
Okay, there may be a few other areas where Filipinos are a bit dodgy, honesty-wise. Take hotel amenities, for example. Most people accept that hotels supply a few extra soaps, toothbrushes, shampoo containers and the like for guests to use with abandon. But Filipinos (and they’re not the only ones) display a pack-rat fervor when faced with hotel amenities that goes beyond simple guest satisfaction. They have been known to not only fill their suitcases and purses with said free items, but phone down to the front desk and request more, more, MORE!
Clearly, this goes beyond simple need. Somewhere, there must be a black market of vendors distributing single-use items from Intercons, Hyatts, Marriotts, and Holiday Inns all around the globe.
So what does the average Filipino do, faced with this universal lack of toilet paper? They improvise, of course. It’s a dilemma that left the narrator of Alex Garland’s The Beach scratching his head:
You find plastic pitchers all around provincial Asia and their purpose has confounded me for years… Aside from washing digits, I can’t see what other use the pitcher has. I’m sure they don’t splash themselves down. Apart from being ineffective it would make an incredible mess, and they emerge from their ablutions as dry as a bone…
So what can foreigners do to remedy this situation? Well, first of all, you’d better wise up and start facing facts: If you ever plan to use a public restroom (and really, who ever does?) then you’d better come prepared. It may be inconvenient to carry a big white roll of toilet tissue around in your purse or stuffed in your briefcase, but it can save you a lot of despair and angst. And there are always those flat "travel-pack" tissue dispensers available at most convenience stores.
It’s best to buy two or three packs at a time, though. Because there’s nothing as panicking as the late realization that you’ve pulled your last sheet. And somehow that plastic tabo sitting next to you in the cubicle doesn’t look all that inviting. And it doesn’t come with instructions.