The Lighter Side of China: Toilet Tales

Of all the things that I worried about when I moved to China some 17 years ago, I hardly imagined that using public restrooms would prove to be one of my greatest physical challenges.

Today, my colleagues still like to tell stories of the difficulties I faced in using the squatting toilets in the first office building we occupied in Beijing, during the early to mid-1990s. As a marketing services agency with a creative flair, we decided to rent space in a disused school complex based in the north side of Beijing. I remember clearly that my first task when I arrived was to convince the landlord to change the toilets. I had approvals from my boss and head office to do so, as long as the landlord would permit us to; we were even willing to pay for the renovation. For me, the issue was not about being fussy. I have certainly experienced many rustic bathroom settings. My problem is that I had knee surgery in college that makes squatting quite a difficult task. Between the knee problems and lack of a technique, I confess I have never really succeeded in the squatting method. I figured the landlord would definitely love to have their tenant spend their own money to upgrade the toilets.

Well, not this landlord. Remember this was the mid-1990s and the China “service” mentality had yet to take shape. Also, there was not as much commercial real estate around, not like what exists today. From the get-go, we were told: “Bu keneng.” No way. Not possible. Not going to happen. We tried a few techniques to influence this guy, but he seemed to take delight in rebuffing our gestures. Not even a pack of Double Happiness cigarettes would do the trick. So I was left to my own devices.

On days I was not too busy, I would take a ten-minute cab ride to the Kunlun Hotel and use their bathrooms. The Kunlun Hotel has some very nice bathrooms, by the way, and I got to know them well during this period. I used to get questions all of the time from my boss about why I registered 30 minutes several times per week on my timesheet to go to the bathroom. She wanted to know what “value” I was bringing my clients with those 30 minutes. I thought of many answers for such a question, but I wanted to keep my job. Let’s just say that on the days I did go to the Kunlun, the meetings ran much more smoothly.

For the days when I could not make the trip, I purchased a commode chair, the type used by the handicapped; it had a red cushioned circular seat with a hole in the middle. I think I must have purchased about five of these chairs during the course of our tenancy. Their “toilet life” was short, three months at maximum, because of their quality; they frequently rusted or broke. These “holed” seats got plenty of use at our office, though, as I took great delight in loaning them out to visiting foreigners. Learning to use these chairs took skill. Again, I will spare you the details but let’s just say using them was not a slam dunk. Upon moving to a new facility, we put the toilets to rest. In a ceremony that marked the end of my toilet struggle, we had a bonfire in which we set the three remaining chairs on fire.

This early experience made me quite sensitive to the topic of toilets and China. I am not passing judgment and saying that sitters are better than squatters. With more than 1 billion Chinese people skilled in squatting technique, I am clearly in the minority. I must say though, having to search for a sitting toilet made traveling in China a source of great anxiety. Whether I was giving a talk in a university in Guangzhou, visiting our office in Chengdu, vacationing in Qufu (birthplace of Confucius), or just climbing the Great Wall for a day, I could not escape squatting anxiety.

There have been bright spots, however, in overcoming my fears. In the late 1990s, my wife and I had a friend who worked for an accounting firm whose sole client was a toilet company. She used to tell us business was fantastic for her client. “No need to be worried, Scott,” Toilet Judy would counsel. “Help is on its way.”

Then, in 2004, a World Toilet Congress was held in Beijing. Thousands of people came into the city to discuss all things related to toilets. It was dubbed the Olympics of the toilet industry. “A flush of excitement,” proclaimed ABC news, with “potty talk” dominating the discussion. Officials who attended the event noted that the cleanliness of public toilets had a direct relationship to the development of a nation.

I also recently found a somewhat clinical study reporting that squatting was healthier than sitting. It enumerated several advantages of squatting, i.e. the prevention of “fecal stagnation,” which can cause colon cancer. That's a persuasive argument, but it still doesn’t change my preferences. But it is nice to know there is a rationale here.

Nowadays you'll find many Chinese landlords who do want to upgrade from squatters to sitters, but the overall evolution is still by no means easy. With the number of footprints on the base of a toilet seat that I have observed in my time in China, I fear for those aerial squatters who have balance problems. I am certain the local hospitals have many a story about this. It makes me wonder why no manufacturer has invented a squatter-sitter toilet: a hybrid that combines the best of both models.

Fortunately for me, the situation is improving. Many public buildings now feature both sitters and squatters. It seems that this trend will continue as well. According to the Japanese company Toto, which is among the leading manufacturers of modern “sitter” toilets in China, the outlook is optimistic. In the lead paragraph of the company’s 2011 financial report, Toto writes: “Thanks to an increase in domestic demand for new housing and strong sales in China due to the start of production at the new factory, TOTO posted an increase in income and profit.”

I don’t know about you, but I am investing in Toto.

Scott Kronick is president of Ogilvy Public Relations Worldwide, North Asia.

Photo: Sky News