A Story About Poop

Let’s take a moment to talk about an important subject: Poop.  According to most studies, everyone does it.  In fact, babies and puppies are often described as being “such good poopers.”  Poop colors our commentary (for example: “Ain’t that some shit”) and most of us, whether we know it or not, have planned our lives around our body’s natural rhythm to generate and dispense of poop.

Naturally, you are wondering one (or both) of two things:  What on earth is he going to talk about in relation to poop? How many times is he going to say the word poop? And I think I will address the first question... first.

While packing some of my things (remember I’m going through that hellish life transition known as moving), I came across an old badge for one of my first jobs.  Some people may reminisce about how different they were back in the day, others might think fondly about what they spent their first few paychecks on.  In my case though the first thing I thought about was... God, I had to clean up sooo much poop there it was ridiculous.  

This eventually made me think, wow I have a number of very strong work memories each associated with poop.  “They” say your olfactory sense(AKA smell) is the most powerful memory producer.  So, I guess poop smells would stick more to my brain than something nice and subtle such as a warm summer day with honeysuckle on the breeze.  With that, let’s take a trip down memory lane and revisit a very powerful memory, in a horse drawn carriage no less(because anyone who has ridden in or near one will know that few other vehicles will provide such a fragrant accompaniment). 

My first job ever was working for a well known Water Park in Williamsburg, VA.  I used to be what was lovingly referred to as, “Area Host.”  In reality that position was a glorified janitor.  

I hated this job so very, very much.  

Probably because it was my first experience with The Public in general.  Prior to this life altering job I used to think most people could be trusted with simple tasks and were accustomed to a bevy of courtesies and routines.  I was soon violently awoken from the fairy tale dream.  

This story takes place at high noon, while I was in charge of manning the Men’s Restroom.  A task relatively gross in nature due to the over bearing smell in such a small, warm, humid space.  On this special day, I had walked into the restroom with my floor squeegee (water park remember), and my toilet wand (that bristle brush thing used to scrape caked on remains), with the expectation that this was going to be like any other day.  

Which is when I saw that one of the urinal’s looked different. Not immediately knowing how it was different I went over for closer inspection, and the thought process that ensued was something like this:

“What is that...Is that dirt?  No its too much to be dirt...Maybe it’s chocolate cake?  Where do we sell cake here, and why would someone bring it into the bathroom? And how did the cake get into the urinal? Oh my god... that’s not cake”

Sadly the thought process didn’t end there:

“I can’t believe someone took a dump in a urinal! Were the stalls that full? Were they in that much of a hurry? Wait... how... how did they even manage to get it in there?  These things are at such a weird angle.  They would have had to have perched on the lip there.  This would have required not just thought but effort! Why didn’t anyone else stop them!  For the love of all things sacred, Why didn’t anyone say, 'Hey, that’s not what that is there for, the use is in the name "URINE-AL"'”

I had so many questions, and at that moment I realized I would never get the answers I so desperately needed to help the world make sense again.  To this day whenever I am a part of, or see a “Customer Service” experience going south very, very fast.  I think to myself: Wow I bet that asshole is someone who craps in urinals.

In answer to the second question: How many times is he going to mention poop?  Not counting this sentence I mentioned 11 poops, 1 shit,  and 2 craps.  

Aren't memories fun?!