Has anybody ever offered you a paper towel with a big grin on their face?  Did you have the feeling that you were supposed to feel pampered, waited-on, and well cared-for, regardless of whether or not you asked for the paper towel or were even in need of such a large piece of dead tree?  People love passing out paper towels.  It makes them feel generous, helpful, and caring, and it’s easy!

I have a problem with this gesture.  First of all, paper towels are almost invariably overkill when it comes to wiping your hands and face during a meal.  There are very, very few times I can recall putting an entire paper towel to good use in a single meal.  Unless you’re gorging yourself on a massive pile of heavily-sauced chicken wings (and are compelled to clean your face and fingers between each wing), chances are most of your paper towel will go to waste.

Paper towels - you know you want one

 

Offering someone a paper towel is to effectively force this environmentally unfriendly act of wastefulness upon them.  You cannot very well refuse a paper towel.  Once it’s been torn off its spool, a paper towel is as good as dead.  Where does one put an already-torn paper towel in hopes that it will be used?  On top of the spool of paper towels?  Perhaps, but the type of person who enthusiastically pushes paper towels on people will certainly scorn an already-torn towel in favor of a “fresh one” that hasn’t been touched and used to sop up god-knows-what invisible waste.

Logistics aside, refusing a paper towel is to risk hurting the feelings of he or she who offers it to you.  All of a sudden they’re left standing there with an extra paper towel and wondering why you would refuse such a generous offering.  What’s more, they now have to deal with the extra paper towel, and shoulder the burden of waste on their own.

Indeed, when offered a paper towel, people invariably accept.  Why block the good intentions of another over something as silly as a paper towel?  So what if you don’t actually want or need the paper towel?  This lovely person wants you to feel cared for, and all you have to do to complete this time-honored exchange of good will is say “thanks!” and wipe your grinning face with a nice, extra-large, crispy paper towel.

The whole thing just makes me sick.  If you really cared about me and my needs, you’d ask first if I was interested in a paper towel.  Just because you like paper towels doesn’t mean that I do.  Perhaps hosts worry that guests would feel uncomfortable asking for something as extravagant as a paper towel, and so they offer under the assumption that what everybody really wants, deep down, is a paper towel all their own.

I’m here to say that this is not the case.  A paper napkin will do just fine.  I’ll split the paper towel with you, and we’ll still have some left over.  And please, don’t assume that you’re automatically a good host or a generous person just because you offered me a paper towel.  A monkey could offer me a paper towel.

Somehow, the paper towel has become a universally accepted gesture of goodwill, generosity, and kindness, and every time we happily accept the paper towels thrown in our face, we perpetuate this misconception.  Stop the madness.  Politely refuse the paper towel.  Tear it in half and offer a piece to your neighbor.  Fold it up and put it in your pocket and take it home and set it on top of your spool of paper towels.  Save some trees.