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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Papa's Got A Brand New.....Trashbag

I have come to the conclusion that no matter what I want to do, there will be things preventing me from doing them. So rather than make up excuses for why I am NOT posting more regularly, lets get down to the business of posting.
Work has been a serious issue this week, taking up such a predominate amount of time away from everything else, that I thought I would share a funny work story or two.
See I manage a restaurant, and a fast food one at that, so needless to say I can take a lot of shit from people for either messing up an order, or just being the easiest target of aggression around. But there have been several times when I have taken shit literally from customers.
After closing I usually do a visual inspection of the store for security and cleanliness purposes, and part of that inspection leads me to the bathroom. One such night, I open the men's room stall door to discover a pair of jeans and underwear, full of shit.
Now I didn't for a second question why those pants where there, I KNOW why they are their, they are full of shit. The question I wanted answers was how that customer got out of the store... See due to the stores layout he would HAVE to have left out of one of the two main entrances on either side of the restaurant, in plain visual sight of the counter, the crew and the customers. But we didn't see anything.
Did this guy carry extra pants with him.... WHO CARRIES EXTRA PANTS WITH THEM?!?!
So anyway, I send in a good friend of mine to clean it up, who promptly returns from the bathroom to state that there is no way in HELL he is cleaning that. SO I tell him to send one of the other two people to clean it. That person comes back and says NO WAY. Now by this time the third person has already heard about it and won't clean it, so that leaves me.

Now when this happened 8 or 0 years ago, most restaurants were not required to use gloves in food preparation, as opposed to now where it is required in many states. Needless to say, we had no gloves. So I kind of have lift and sweep the pants into a trashbag, cursing so bad that Quentin Tarentino would blush. Upon leaving the bathroom, my three ever so brave crew were standing by the door. AT that point I did the only thing that someone in my position of authority should do. I abused it.

Whirling the bag above my head like a scene out of Crocodile Dundee I proceeded to chase the crew around the store and swing the shit pants filled bag at them.

Those were some fairly quick guys when motivated.

My next post will be about the time I got felt up in a Wal-Mart bathroom... I still refuse to use urinals to this day.

End of Line.


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