S-Word Day

I don't write about my day job. I've heard terrible stories about folks getting fired from their jobs due to what they've kept on their MySpace page or wrote on their blogs.... Yes, in their own private time, off the clock, and in their own private homes.

I'm not saying teachers shouldn't be fired for having a child-porn-parade on their MySpace page or anything like that. But let's be realistic. As long as you work, your thoughts are only your own as long as they are kept in your head. Otherwise, you could be fired.

So I don't necessarily want to get fired at the expense of making a handful of people possibly chuckle. After all, I cannot remember who all I gave this website address to. God only knows who's seeing all my unfunniness. However, I do have a couple of exceptions in mind to the no-writing-about-work-policy of mine. The following is one of those exceptions.

S*** Day
"So how has your day been?" Jennifer asked after seeing me for the first time that dreary Tuesday.
"Sh***y," I replied.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
"I guess you weren't told? I was making a pun."

So I told the story to Jennifer, which was told to me by Amanda. Someone apparently had an accident in one of the bathrooms. Let me rephrase that.... Someone had an accident all over the bathroom. The way it was described to me was that there were paper towels with "S-Word all over them" in the trash, "S-Word on the toilet" and a "pile of S-Word on the floor". (I never looked for myself, I just simply took Amanda's word for it)

"I didn't notice till I was halfway through and I couldn't just cut it off so I had to just sit there and finish peeing, knowing there was S-Word everywhere."

I caught a whiff only minuets before Amanda had her experience. It's a closet-sized restroom, so I usually just pop in and wash my hands without even turning on the light, because you have to shut the door to turn on the light, and blah, blah, blah. (and in my job, you'd wash your hands just as many times, and just as quickly I promise) Anyway, I thought someone had simply had a potty emergency and didn't bother to spray any of the air freshener that our employers so graciously provide us with. (by the way, if that's what Spring Mountain Air smells like, I'm glad I live in the flat lands of Texas)

After Amanda's discovery of someone's potty emergency gone awry, the door was closed and a sign stating, "DO NOT USE" was taped up. We then all proceeded to discuss the matter in great detail, including but not limited to:

We all get sick, sure. We all have accidents, but clean up after yourself!
I ain't cleanin' it! That wasn't in my job description.
You know someone's walking around with that in their underwear.
What are we, in Kindergarten?
That's just nasty.

Of course the above has been thoroughly cleaned for my standing G rating. So it sat there. And sat there. Festering, collecting aromas within four tiny walls. Until Allan got back.

Allan knew better than to ask any one of us to do the job. He simply grabbed a bucket and about 16 gallons of Pine-Sol and set himself to work. At this point in the day, I didn't know what was worse, the smell of someone's bowels wafting its way under the crack in the door, or 16 gallons of Pine-Sol.

Pine-Sol, definitely better. Definetely

"So that's why my day was Sh***y. Get it? It's a pun," I said to Jennifer.
She lightly laughed saying, "Yeah, I get the joke."
"No, no, no. No, no! Still not funny!" I said. "There's nothing funny about any of it!"

Of course we teased Amanda for about two days saying she did it since she was the one who found it. Because of course, you know whoever smelt it, dealt it. HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!

Poor Amanda. We give her such a hard time. It's about the only thing that makes such a sh***y day worth staying on for.