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Bathroom Horrors

When it comes to cleaning the restrooms in a busy gas station/convenience store, one is bound to have some horror stories, and a few questions. While most do not leave messes in public restrooms, there are those few that are the exception. Not only that, it seems the men's room gets particularly gross. Sure, women make messes, but they seem, well . . . less explosive, less destructive and less memorable than the ones encountered in the men's.

I admit 3 out of five days go by without any real tragedy in the restrooms. However, those other 2 days stick in our memories. Scarred for life with the memory of a man losing his bowels a few feet from the front door, and walking 30 paces through the store to the men's room in the back; leaving a trail of runny shit all the way. No way should a gas station attendant be required to clean that up. Someone call in a full HazMat crew for clean-up and the CDC to quarantine that guy. Holy shit man!

While I love you all, I have ask you to look at your diets. For the love of all that is good, take better care of yourselves. Without you, I would not have a job. I am thankful for that. I do my best to be helpful, positive and pleasant in the face of your hectic day, bad mood and crappy attitude. I do my best to cheer you up in the few moments we have together. I enjoy when you are having a great day and I can add to that. I love being able to make you laugh. Seeing you walk out with a smile warms my core shakra. So please, take better care of yourselves.

Shitty Day Questions

Here are a few questions that I have asked myself upon discovering bathroom horrors.

1. How did it get all the way up there?

It is NOT impressive to see shit spattered 5 feet up the wall. Thier ass just exploded as they sat down or something. It happens. I get that. BUT damn man! Come get me. Tell me that you just restueckoed the wall with ass spackle so I can get to it before it dries. Sometimes I wish I could find these disrespectful and unthoughful people and return the favor. I could write my name, in cursive, all over their bathroom wall and never tell them. Then I think to myself, I am glad I am not him. To have shit just exploding from my ass as I sit. No. No thanks.

2. What did that guy eat?!

The unidentified blob, stuck to the side of the toilet bowl, defying gravity and withstanding every attempt to flush it. Really! A gewy, green blob. It ruined my cleaning gear. Really! It stuck to the toilet brush, the plunger and my gloves. It acted like gorilla glue and a seriously strong cleaning repellent. Toilet brush cryptonite. What the . . .? Is that the result of non-fat pringles? That guy should have to replace the cleaning gear, and compensate me for emotional damages. I still feel . . . violated.

3. What is that smell?

I ask this just before finding a gnarly turd clogging the toilet, generally accompanied with a wad of toilet paper the size of a football. Really? Having a turd the size of a small python snake is not enough, but they have to add a mound of toilet paper too. A real genius there. They leave a Monte in the toilet and then cover it with half a tree. That poor tree, and poor me.

# Thanks!

Thank you. Thank you for letting me rant. Thank you for reading my post and giving me your time. The shitty days can be, well, shitty! lol AND . . . even though there are those days, I love my job. Even on those shitty days, I make light of the messes with silly jokes and blog rantings. lol

I love you all and hope to see in my store soon. Until then friends.

Later Gaters!

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