Ordering 1000 Jumbo Rolls of Toilet Paper

The pandemic was filled with interesting, surprising, and fascinating human behaviour. People hoarded toilet paper, had public freak outs of varying calibres, and witnessed a secondary global disaster called ‘Zoom Fails.‘ During the toilet paper hoarding wave, I chose a more strategic approach instead of fighting off zombies at the grocery store for the last roll in Costco. 

To be fair, there wasn’t even a shortage of toilet paper. There was always at least one store that had toilet paper. However, the risk perception of a toilet paper apocalypse was significant. I decided to take matters into my own hands and find an industrial amount of toilet paper. The kind where you don’t run out for 56 years or you need it to supply an entire hotel chain. That’s how much toilet paper I decided would be most strategic in combatting these silly hoarding panickers. 

Three years later, I received a very shocking email. It was so outrageous that it actually motivated me to start writing about nonsense more often. Because the situation was 50 shades of nonsense.

Toilet Paper Fairies

It all started when I began shopping on the black market for toilet paper. I believe this happened during wave 2 of COVID-19 because that’s when most people truly understood what was happening and appropriately lost their shit (in so many ways). Some individuals never grasped the situation, and that’s okay. But what mattered to most was the availability of toilet paper. I have a close group of friends who decided that we would not become victims of toilet paper drought and came up with an emergency response framework for ongoing toilet paper capacity. To ensure none of us had a really rough day at work, a toilet paper delivery service among the five of us was established.  

I remember one of my friends smiling at my window, holding a roll of toilet paper and preparing to throw it in my front door. Unfortunately, I forgot to mute my work meeting when I greeted her. I thanked her for the roll, mentioning it had been a shitty week, pun intended. The group of professionals who were unable to mute me because I was the meeting host received the unintended crap chat fairly well. It was a good moment to say “oh shit” in a professional setting. 

When the friendship toilet paper delivery service began to run out, I started wondering how large businesses were maintaining their toilet paper supply. How did the international airport maintain it’s TP supply? I needed to think big and get access to enormous amounts of toilet paper. That was the only logical way to ensure I didn’t need to start another round of toilet paper deliveries. No one had time for that when we were all supposed to be sitting at home, completely still, not breathing moistly or at all.

Toilet Paper Investigative Officer

I began investigating where I could find these massive rolls of toilet paper that I absolutely had to buy. These were not ordinary rolls. The toilet paper rolls in big box stores are like a big box themselves. They are stored in a circular dispensing object. That’s what I needed—a large dispensable mega roll. I read the labels and gathered some basic information about industrial sized toilet paper. I couldn’t find it in any store I checked. There were no stores specifically catering to massive toilet paper rolls, which was odd. This marked the beginning of my online odyssey.

Eventually, I discovered a distributor that supplied massive toilet paper rolls to large businesses. They were a global industrial wholesale distributor for all the items a business would need, especially if they had 9870 employees and they all used the bathroom excessively. Perfect, I thought. This should last throughout the pandemic. Unlike most people who assumed the pandemic would have three waves like the Influenza pandemic, I believed it could last between seven and sixteen years. My expectation was based on the Black Death pandemic (bubonic plague of the 1300s), which made me feel the need to hunker down for the long run, albeit with a sense of panic and urgency. Setting a barometer that includes the worst pandemic in known history was how I trained my ‘pandemic stamina.’ 

Jumbo Size It

I checked Canadian suppliers, but all industrial amounts of toilet paper were gone. They had rolls larger than those in grocery stores and bigger quantities than Costco, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. Bubonic plague. Sixteen years. I needed more toilet paper. Costco was equivalent to Dollarama at that point.

I found a supplier in the United States that offered jumbo rolls of toilet paper, shipped in cases of 12. They had massive amounts of toilet paper per roll, and it lowered the price if you ordered more. After considering the cost vs. benefit and the level of preparedness I needed at that moment, I made a logical and practical decision to order 1000 rolls of jumbo-sized toilet paper. I didn’t even have a mailbox, just a mail slot, and I hoped this would be delivered on some kind of flatbed truck.

After placing the order, I felt relieved. I was certain that toilet paper was the most uncertain element of the pandemic, and since I had resolved that issue, I had no reason to worry further about COVID-19 or regularity. Shortly after ordering, I completely forgot about the whole thing, despite receiving a receipt for my purchase and still being in the midst of the toilet paper apocalypse. I was so content and pleased that I forgot I even ordered the toilet paper and lived in a false sense of security for years to come.

Timely Cancellation Notice

Three years later, I received an email from the global industrial toilet paper supplier. During those three years, my jumbo toilet paper order had not crossed my mind. The email was titled “Cancellation Notice: One or more items for Sales Order 555.” At first, when I saw the email, I felt a wave of sadness. I had just ordered baby shower gifts for one of my closest friends, and I assumed my order was canceled. Cancelling baby gifts? That’s heinous, you barbarians. Then I realized my baby gifts were safe and sound, but I was NOT going to receive my 1000 rolls of jumbo-sized industrial monster toilet paper rolls? WHAT?!

The pandemic had been declared over. It had been three years since I had a single shred of memory about the wise decision I made during the panic wave. Slowly, I began to remember that I did, in fact, order 1000 rolls of toilet paper. I wondered why and how I did this. I also questioned why I received a cancellation notice three years after placing the order. Was it a standard business practice for industrial items? How did I think this was going to work anyway. I lived in a small condo with very little storage; I truly wished I could go back to three years ago and ask myself to explain myself to me.

Laughter and Losing Nothing

I decided to call the global industrial toilet paper supplier and ask a few questions about my order. Before dialing, I didn’t realize how utterly ridiculous the story would sound when I said it out loud. A lovely individual with a southern accent answered the phone, and I explained that I received a cancellation notice for an item that I wanted to inquire about. She asked what I ordered and for the order number. At that moment, I realized what an idiot I was about to sound like.  And there was nothing I could do about it.

I started the conversation by stuttering a bit and saying something like, “So, during the pandemic, I was kind of worried… I mean, not overly, but I thought… okay, so I’m in Canada, and we had this… toilet paper… thing… oh jeez.” The person on the other end of the line, the lovely and kind individual, burst into uncontrollable laughter as she opened my file and saw what I ordered. I exploded into a more embarrassed and horrified laughter as I managed to squeak out the words, “I DON’T NEED 1000 ROLLS OF TOILET PAPER. I PANICKED.” And that was it. We both laughed over the phone and said nothing. What do you even say to a person like me. Um…why did you do this? My hand covered my face, even though she couldn’t see me, and as I giggled I hoped that I would be disconnected from the call somehow magically.

I Want My Toilet Paper

After regaining control of my life, I was told I needed to be transferred to another department to investigate the cancellation because three years was not a normal delay. I didn’t want to be transferred. No, thank you. Perhaps, this is someone else’s order and I didn’t even cause this, I thought. I double-checked with them, making sure they were certain because another impulsive, forgetful person might be waiting for their 1000 jumbo rolls.  After another fit of laughter and being assured that this was my order and I did actually do this in real life three years ago, I was transferred to someone else so I could tell the same ridiculous story again. Perfect.

This time, I proceeded with a bit more composure. I didn’t mention the actual item; instead, I provided the purchase number, sales order number, item number, and order date. I outright refused to acknowledge what the item was. The person on the line asked cautiously and somewhat skeptically if I had indeed ordered 1000 jumbo rolls of industrial toilet paper to be delivered in cases of 12. I confirmed confidently, and I heard, “…ok… one moment.”

Elevator hold music started playing, and I wasn’t sure what was about to happen. Was I going to jail? Would I get to keep the toilet paper? Three years didn’t seem that long. Was this going to be uploaded to YouTube? I knew I would go viral in the worst way possible. I just knew it. I’m a disaster.

Unexpected Twist

The less than lovely person came back on the phone and didn’t believe me. They couldn’t believe that I ordered THAT MUCH toilet paper and received a cancellation notice three years later. It was a very unexpected twist. I could have backed out at that moment and not investigated further, but now I was curious. And more. The unexpected twist left me angry; what exactly do you mean you don’t believe me? Because this is a commonly made-up story? Lost jumbo toilet paper inquiries over numerous years? Where was my damn TP! They asked me to forward the cancellation notice to an email address so they could see evidence, which I suppose is reasonable considering I sounded like a lunatic that recently emerged from a Y2K bunker. I did as they asked and received an email stating that the order was canceled less than thirty days after I placed it. The order was received in April 2020. I received a cancellation notice in May 2023. In between, there is simply a void of confusion.

At this point, I was fully invested in this toilet paper saga. I had vague memories of ordering it. I didn’t need it, and it was completely outrageous, but I was in. I had already spoken to people, sent emails, and now I wanted my fucking toilet paper. Curious to furious. I asked why I was notified so late and stated how ridiculous the situation was (you see how I turned the tables right there). I had gone from confused, to amused, to angry to feeling super offended that I didn’t get my toilet paper. Two minutes before that, I had no idea I had ordered 1000 rolls of jumbo toilet paper that meant so much in my heart. Now, I was irate.  

The Zero-Dollar Refund

The company apologized, and I asked for a refund. They informed me that I was never charged because the order was never fulfilled. I retorted that my cancellation notice explicitly stated that I would be refunded the full amount for all canceled items. The person on the other end simply said, “Correct. And that amount is zero.” This person was on to something.

I didn’t want to give up, however, the logic was there. So, I disregarded logic and continued. I want a refund for the zero dollars I paid. What about the fictitious amount that I thought I paid? What if this person was wrong, and I really did pay for my 1000 jumbo rolls of industrial toilet paper, leaving me broke without any shitwipe? What if that happened? I could be dead!

Confession of an Ape

But it didn’t happen. I paid nothing, received no information until three years later, had a fit of laughter, a fit of frustration, and then a temper tantrum. In the end, I gained and lost nothing other than brain cells. I did order THAT MUCH toilet paper, even though I felt confident that I wasn’t participating in hoarding, panicking, or taking any non-strategic approaches to the pandemic. As it turns out, I acted just like the walking, talking ape that I am, and three years later, I proved that while the virus evolved, I hadn’t. I was still a walking, talking ape, just with less toilet paper than I almost never had.

I continue to have ample amounts of toilet paper, access to normal sized toilet paper rolls and no significant issues that arose from not receiving my jumbotron of toilet paper on a flatbed. People buy huge TVs, yachts, mansions. I see no reason why this wasn’t the most rational decision ever. The only lesson I have learned here is to follow up sooner. I could have had three years of better hygiene, even though I did not once run out of toilet paper. Psychologically, I would have had a better life though. Because toilet paper.