Finding Kohler: A New Toilet’s Quest To Come Home*

(*Based on true events)
Monday, January 9
It’s the day that every new toilet is made for!
I, John Kohler, have been notified I was officially purchased this afternoon by one Brett Henne of New York City. I am a part of a large order of bathroom fixtures for his apartment’s gut renovation.
And chatter from some of the toilet models on the store floor has already gotten back to me here at the factory.
I will be placed in the new guest bathroom that Brett is creating out of a laundry closet. A whole new bathroom in Manhattan? Such an honor. He told Sal The Sales Clerk he needs all items to be delivered at the same time to his non-doorman building. His contractors will be in his apartment to accept the delivery on the specified day.
They also said that Sal declared that my model, the “Memoirs Classic Comfort,” was a real gem. Thank you, Sal! I’m so proud to be a part of the Kohler® family!

The same floor models added that Brett seemed focused yet pleasant with Sal when placing his order, if not a little scattered. He kept shuffling a stack of gift cards like he was at Vegas until he dropped them all on the floor. Well, I can’t wait to meet him. Geez, I hope he likes me! I’ve got to stay in perfect condition until then.
Monday, January 30
So, I made it here to the store in Manhattan, back in the receiving area. I got here a week after Brett placed his order. But we have to wait on the other slowpokes. I hope they hurry. I also heard Brett does not suffer fools, tardiness or missed schedules. We can’t make him mad. Or he might just cancel us and order from that hack site Amazon.com and then I’ll be sent back to the factory or worse — Clearance Island! You NEVER want to go there. That’s where you sit naked out in the open, pawed at, stepped on and ridiculed for months, even years! Awful!
Tuesday, February 13
Tomorrow’s the day! The store called Brett to see when they could finally deliver all of the items. He said Wednesday! So, we are being grouped together for easy placement on the delivery truck.
There’s Ted, a pedestal sink; Chynna, a porcelain sink basin with sleek chrome legs; Farrah, a mirrored medicine cabinet, and, … oh. Ugh! There is also Hoity Toity, one of those floating, I’m-cooler-than-you toilets that get attached to the wall. He never says anything to me. He just glares at me, then smirks. Like his sh#t doesn’t stink. Whatever! He’s part of the Kohler® family too. And I was chosen, just like he was. That attitude really flips my lid. But I’ve got to chill. Don’t want to dent myself.
Wednesday, February 14
So, this is weird. All of the others got to go on the truck, but I was left behind. They also picked up a new one — Tank, an in-wall carrier system for Hoity Toity.
After everyone else was on the truck and chattering with excitement, Hoity Toity turned to look down at me and whispered, “Urine trouble! Urine trouble!”
“Shut your potty mouth, Hoity Toity. Or I’ll shut it for you!” I don’t have to take that crap from anyone.
Hmmm. Maybe they just forgot me? I mean, there are a lot of boxes back here and I was in my group’s outer perimeter. But how can I not be part of the best Valentine’s Day delivery ever? I’m an essential part of any bathroom! Oh, boy. Brett will be so angry if I’m not there!
Thursday, February 15
Tank came back to the loading area late last night. Just him.
“What happened? Why are you back here?” I was frantic for any information.
“The contractors at the apartment sent me back. They said, ‘Brett already returned that one to the store a few weeks ago. That’s a double. We don’t need it.’”
Tank was crushed. “I thought maybe Brett had changed his mind…”
Although soft, his words echoed, swishing around and around in my empty porcelain bowl…
What if I wasn’t needed after all? What if my order has been — cancelled?! What if I’m sent to Clearance Island! But that CAN’T happen to me. It’s too rough there — scarred vanities, bawdy bronze faucets, overwrought iron fences, sallow pink sinks. They’re all desperate to find a home. And not above sticking a shiv into a fellow home furnishing that has caught the eye of a value-minded shopper. NO! I’ll never survive!

Sunday, February 26
A week later I was exhausted, napping after yet another panic attack, when I heard Sal The Sales Clerk come back to the shipping guys. I couldn’t see him since a vanity now blocks my view.
“Hey, do you have a Kohler® for Brett Henne?”
“Henne? Yep, sure do. Right here.”
My chrome-finish flush handle perked right up. Finally! This is it!
“Where?” Sal asked, looking up and down the stacks of boxes.
“Right HERE,” said the shipping clerk, pointing to Tank, leaning against the shelves in front of them.
Sal smacked his palm against his forehead, “No, Brett returned that himself. That’s a double.”
Oh, Tank. You are SO cancelled.
“No, Brett just realized they’re missing a toilet. The Kohler® Classic Comfort.
“HERE, HERE, I’m over HERE! Behind Fat Ass Vanity!”
The veneered vanity glared over its shoulder. “Watch it, Kohler®! You ain’t so skinny yourself!”
The clerk pointed in my direction. “Uhhhh…wait, do you mean that one?”
Validation!
“It’s a Classic Comfort. Been sitting there awhile. Musta got separated.”
“OK, I’ll call Brett to see when they can accept it.”
Yes! I feel so much better now. New home, here I come!
Monday March 6
Today’s the day, Brett told Sal The Sales Clerk the contractors were back in his apartment this week, so I’m ready for the truck. I’m so excited! I’m finally going to be of service!
Tuesday, March 7
I’m back. The delivery guy rang Brett’s apartment, but there was no answer. But I’m not worried. I just got wheeled back on the truck this morning. This is happening. It has to. We can’t piss off Brett!
Wednesday, March 8
I’m back. AGAIN. Still no answer at Brett’s apartment. I don’t understand where in the HELL everyone is. Now I’m sweating like it’s a humid summer day.
What if Brett found a replacement for me already? That evil Hoity Toity is probably whispering in his ear right now: “You don’t need him. What you need is another one just like me. We’ve evolved off of the floor. We are the future!”
No, you’re a product line extension, not the future. Douchebag.
Tuesday, March 14
Today’s the day. No, really. The shipping clerk called Brett directly:
“Hi, calling about a delivery for a…Kohler® toilet.”
“Oh, right. Didn’t get that one yet.”
“We stopped twice, but we need a signature. Can’t leave it in front of the door.”
“Yeah, I get it. My contractors weren’t there all week because of an emergency on some other job. *sigh* So over them. Anyway, they said they’ll be there next week.”
“Great, how about next Tuesday.”
“Perfect. I’ll tell them. Thank you!”
That’s today! Today, today, today. TODAY!
Wednesday, March 15
I’m back. No answer at the door AGAIN. But I NEED AN ANSWER NOW. My porcelain white box is now dented and scuffed from all of the heaving onto delivery trucks. Who’s going to want me now? WHO?!? I’m not even good enough for Clearance Island. I feel so…soiled.

Wednesday, April 5
Well. It’s been three weeks and nothing. Other boxes are now on and around me, and I can’t see or breathe. But I don’t care anymore. Even Tank has been removed from the area. I’m sure he’s been to Clearance Island and then moved to another home, happy to be in service. That’s all I want. Just to sit as a throne, worthy of Brett, The King Of His Castle.
Wednesday, April 12
I heard Brett was in the store today! He and his architect stopped by to get a quote on more tile and to find Sal The Sales Clerk.
“You’re not going to believe this,” said Brett. “But I never got my toilet.”
Sal smacked his palm against his forehead. “What?! I can’t believe it.”
“Oh the store tried,” Brett said. “But my guys weren’t there after all. Like that whole week. They’re KILLING me.”
“And I called your contractor, and he said someone would be there that next day,” Sal said.
“You did?”
“Yeah, remember? You gave me his number.”
“I forgot.” Brett sighed. “Well, we told them they have to come here and get it. But they haven’t yet. Whatever. And who knows if it’s still back there right?”
Sal shrugged. “No idea. I’ll check and get back to you though.”
“Thanks, but never mind. They’ll just come here when they’re ready. And the toilet won’t be here. Then we’ll have to re-order. Then it comes 2–3 weeks later. Trust me, we won’t be finished by then. I have a better chance of winning Lotto.”
My ballcock sank down into my tank.
Thursday, April 27
So, Brett’s contractors did return to the store. Twice. I gave it one last shot that second time. I yelled, “Hey! HEY! Over Here! FREE BEER! FREE BOOZE! FIRE!”
But the staff couldn’t find me. I’m still here, hidden by even more boxes. Forgotten.
Brett’s architect was also here and spoke with two different clerks who took down the information and promised to get back to him. But they’ve been too busy to do that.
I give up. Why don’t they just cancel me and send me back to the factory or even to Clearance Island? No toilet ever wants that. But living in this purgatory is no way to exist.
Tuesday, May 9
Brett was in the store this afternoon with his architect again, this time ordering tile for the living room hearth. (Man, he sure likes tile.) And to try and find me one last time.
“We have to find Sal.” Brett said. “He’s the key to all of this. Ooo, looky at that tile over there!”
They eventually found their way to Sal and told him how the contractors and architect had all stopped by without success.
Sal smacked his palm against his forehead. “What?! I can’t believe it. Let me go back there and see if it’s even there.”
I heard rustling near me, as boxes were being moved, scraping along the concrete floor. The noises got faster and closer.
“Help…help me…help me,” I whispered, empty of any hope.
Then after one long, loud scrape, the box in front of me was gone and I basked in a shaft of fluorescent glory.
“A-ha! There you are,” Sal said, examining my packing slip. “We gotta get you out of here.”
He then went back to Brett, checking out more tiles in Flooring. “It’s still there, by the delivery dock. I’ll put a note in the system about its location, so when anyone asks, they can find it fast. I’m here tomorrow and they can ask for me too.”
“Thanks, Sal. You’re the best! Hey, is that grey tile over there going on sale soon?”
This all sounds good, but…I’m just so scared. Scared to hope one more time. If I’m forgotten again, my bowl will overflow with non-stop tears.

Wednesday, May 10
But just like that, it happened. Boxes were moved off of me this morning, and I had full view of the storage room for the first time in two months.
I was wheeled out of the backroom, through the store and out into the loud street, and then hoisted into the back of a red pick-up truck. Sunlight hit me for the first time ever, warming my box long-chilled by cold concrete floors.
Shortly after, I was pulled out again and lifted — and then dragged — by two guys up some stairs. I counted 58 of them.
“Jesus, this one’s heavy.”
“Wait, I can’t breathe,” said the other one.
BOOM! They dropped me on the hardwood floor, rattling the whole living room.
“Screw it. The plumber can put it in the bathroom himself. Let’s just push it in the corner.”
Seriously? I’m almost there! Oh, for God’s sake.
I sat on the floor for three more weeks before I was hauled into the new guest bathroom. But then I got connected to the pipes and here I am, officially settled in. Brett’s renovation isn’t done yet. (Please. Don’t ask when it’s going to be done. Trust me.) But for me, I’m right where I should be…Home!

THE END
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