Yesterday I was criticised by a hand dryer. I’ve suffered a kaleidoscopic cocktail of various kinds abuse and criticism over the years from a malicious milieu of teachers, critics, random strangers and the occasional soon to be ex lover. Attracting reprimand from an inanimate bathroom appliance however, is something new even for me.
Whilst drying my hands at the National Gallery of Victoria the normally silent utilitarian device proceeded to lecture me through the use of a digital screen and speakers on how I should be more conservative with my water use.
I am entirely in favour of people receiving advice on methods of how to be more environmentally conscious, being quite the tree hugger myself, I just think that I would prefer that advice to be dispensed by something with a pulse. If I wanted advice from a soulless object masquerading as a human being I would watch Dr. Phil.