Please, No shitting allowed.
I work at an Art and Crafts store in the scrapbooking / Fine Arts department.
Yes, Scrapbooking.
Yes, I am a heterosexual Black Male who works in scrapbooking.
Stop laughing!
95 percent of my customers are female. 99.8% of my Loyal customers are Females (save 0.2% for that guy with the neck brace), but I digress.
The reason for this post is a Public Service Announcement.
Please Refrain from shitting in our restrooms. Please shit at home.
Now, let me explain.
I was in the office doing something on the computer. When I finished, I realized that I had to Piss. The bathrooms are literally a foot away from the office, men's room on the left, lady's on the right.
I sweep into the men's room and right into the middle of the most fetid, horendous, stomach churning stench ever issued from the human digestive system. My stomach doubles over on itself, and I get light headed.
My mouth was open, For Christ's Sake! I could taste the stink!
I gulped a lungful of air and went to the urinal and did my business.
Little Known Fact: If you look at the black tiles by the partition between the urinal and the toilet, you can see who is taking a shit reflected off the tile.
All I could see was a huge purple Shirt, and all I could hear was grunting sounds, and a sound not unlike a a broken Slurpee machine.
You know, phphphphphhpbbbbbbttttt!
I'm pissing, really trying to put maximum pressure on and finish up quickly, when I realize that I want to know who is in my store shitting up the place like they were at home. so I formulate my plan.
I shake off and zip up, and go to wash my hands. For about 6 minutes. I think the guy in the toilet was waiting me out. But he doesn't know is that I have all day!
By now I have washed the hell out of my hands for ten minutes, and he still hasn't come out, when all of a sudden I hear the latch click open, and the door swings open.
Out comes at least 400 pounds of bearded fat white guy wearing a huge purple T-shirt, khaki fat-man pants, and sneakers with velcro straps. i cut off the water and turn to leave, mission accomplished, when this fat bastard walks to the door and leaves without washing his hands!!!
WITH. OUT. WASHING. HIS. HANDS.
Christ on a Dumptruck! He stink-palmed the gawdamn doorknob!!
I dosed the knob with lysol and used a paper towel to get the hell outta dodge before someone thinks I turned the bathroom into a biohazard.
I got on the Intercom and told my Fiance, and the rest of the customer service ladies to look out for Mr. Stink-palm.
The Smell of shit followed the guy around the store. The whole bathroom area, and the office smelled like shit for three hours.
Why do people wait till they get to our store to decide they need to shit?
Shit at home, people! Do I come to your job to shit? Christ!
Glad I got that out of my system.
Yes, Scrapbooking.
Yes, I am a heterosexual Black Male who works in scrapbooking.
Stop laughing!
95 percent of my customers are female. 99.8% of my Loyal customers are Females (save 0.2% for that guy with the neck brace), but I digress.
The reason for this post is a Public Service Announcement.
Please Refrain from shitting in our restrooms. Please shit at home.
Now, let me explain.
I was in the office doing something on the computer. When I finished, I realized that I had to Piss. The bathrooms are literally a foot away from the office, men's room on the left, lady's on the right.
I sweep into the men's room and right into the middle of the most fetid, horendous, stomach churning stench ever issued from the human digestive system. My stomach doubles over on itself, and I get light headed.
My mouth was open, For Christ's Sake! I could taste the stink!
I gulped a lungful of air and went to the urinal and did my business.
Little Known Fact: If you look at the black tiles by the partition between the urinal and the toilet, you can see who is taking a shit reflected off the tile.
All I could see was a huge purple Shirt, and all I could hear was grunting sounds, and a sound not unlike a a broken Slurpee machine.
You know, phphphphphhpbbbbbbttttt!
I'm pissing, really trying to put maximum pressure on and finish up quickly, when I realize that I want to know who is in my store shitting up the place like they were at home. so I formulate my plan.
I shake off and zip up, and go to wash my hands. For about 6 minutes. I think the guy in the toilet was waiting me out. But he doesn't know is that I have all day!
By now I have washed the hell out of my hands for ten minutes, and he still hasn't come out, when all of a sudden I hear the latch click open, and the door swings open.
Out comes at least 400 pounds of bearded fat white guy wearing a huge purple T-shirt, khaki fat-man pants, and sneakers with velcro straps. i cut off the water and turn to leave, mission accomplished, when this fat bastard walks to the door and leaves without washing his hands!!!
WITH. OUT. WASHING. HIS. HANDS.
Christ on a Dumptruck! He stink-palmed the gawdamn doorknob!!
I dosed the knob with lysol and used a paper towel to get the hell outta dodge before someone thinks I turned the bathroom into a biohazard.
I got on the Intercom and told my Fiance, and the rest of the customer service ladies to look out for Mr. Stink-palm.
The Smell of shit followed the guy around the store. The whole bathroom area, and the office smelled like shit for three hours.
Why do people wait till they get to our store to decide they need to shit?
Shit at home, people! Do I come to your job to shit? Christ!
Glad I got that out of my system.
posted by Todd at
2:27 AM
5 Comments:
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