What a Shitty Theme

I walked into a fitting room at work today and saw one of the cushioned stools soaking wet and dripping. The liquid (presumably water) no less reminded me of a particular week from not so long ago. It was the week of shit. I've never seen more shit than I did that week.

It all began one night as I was awaiting closing time. I was just standing there, zoning out, as I always do when at work, when I suddenly hear my name being called from a distance. I follow the sound and find a frantic co-worker from the children's department. She says "Look, my dear" in her funny foreign tone... and so I look. A trail of fecal matter is strewn all about the path that leads from sleepwear to lingerie. Emma, as the lady is called, says to me "You don't think it was a giant animal do you, my dear?" I just laugh and tell her no, "Let's call security". So I call one of the security guys and say "Hey--there is poo in the kid's department." The conversation following this statement basically went as follows: "Poo??" "Yes--poo." "Huh?" "Poo. There is poo here. We have a poo situation." "What do you mean poo?" (Emma chimes in): "It's alligator poo, my dear." (laughter from yours truly): "Emma says it's alligator poo... She says there's an alligator loose." "What? Alligator poo? What do you expect me to do about alligator poo?" "Emma's concerned there's an animal loose... She doesn't want to go back to her area." This basically continues for another 2 minutes... Then Peter (security guy) comes up and takes a gander. We all sort of stare... and I laugh... and Emma is finally convinced that there is in fact no gators pooing anywhere in the store... and that it's safe for her to return to her station.

This story should just confirm that theory of every Northerner... the theory that all Floridians harbor alligators underneath their beds... because I know someone is going to read that and take the alligator thing literally. Good luck to you, Mid-Westerner... Don't forget to receive your obligatory Mickey Mouse branding upon entering the state as well.

Second poo experience: My discovery of a dirty diaper in the fitting room.

And finally... A poor, very old lady comes into the store and has an accident. She is alone and it is very obvious what has happened... more than one sense is upset by it. One of our kindly ladies from the home department takes her under her wing.. and like an angel tends to her every need. The thing is--she's so elderly that while the home lady is helping to ring her items up, she asks another associate for a chair to sit on. The associate, unaware of the situation, takes one of my fitting room stools (with a three inch thick cushion) and gives it to the lady as a seat. I walk up and see her sitting on it... the smell is putrid... and I begin to wonder what on earth is going to come of my stool? After the lady leaves I call security. The main LP tells me I need to dispose of the seat. I say "Exsqueeze me?" to which she responds "Say that ever again and I'll break your face" (that was a total blatant fucking lie--and for this I apologize). By and by... I am now stuck with this dilemma. It's all on me. The horrid, stinky chair is sitting in front of a register... and it becomes my duty to eliminate the problem. I stare for a long while, and pace back and forth, covering my nose. Finally the LP comes up and gets it... "What? Are you afraid of a little waste?"

...and this is the point I'm reaching for.

Fuck.ing. Yes.

Come the fuck on. Piss and shit. Do you have to explain a fear or loathing of piss and shit? If you're going to have any sort of an irrational fear... I would say that of the piss and shit would be most reasonable. Screw sharks, screw ghosts... If it drips from a living thing.. I don't need a part of it.


Also, I'd like to apologize for not turning the words "stool" and "duty" into puns in this story. Guess I really missed the boat on that one, huh?