On Friday I was downstairs working the counter when a customer came in. I was helping another customer, so this man asked if he could use the restroom. I directed him to the facilities and continued to help the customer in front of me. The gentleman came down just as I finished with the first customer, and I asked him if I could help.
As he was explaining his needs, I got a whiff of something that smelled suspiciously poop-like. Let me clarify: the store I work at is two stories. The "store" is downstairs, and the offices and restroom are upstairs. I could smell this guy's bathroom experience clear downstairs. I couldn't look him in the face. It was all I could to do keep from yelling, "Dude! What did you have for lunch? Have you no shame?"
He didn't need much, so I helped him pretty quickly. As he was walking out, Nikki, a co-worker, came into the store. I noticed she had a strange look on her face. As soon as I heard the man go out the door, I said, "Oh my gosh, Nikki! That guy! He used the bathroom and I can smell it clear down here!"
"I could smell it when I came in the back door!" Nikki exclaimed. "What did he do up there? I wonder if he opened the window."
"I don't know, but I'm afraid to go up there."
"Is Cissy up there?" Nikki asked, refering to another co-worker.
I felt my eyes go wide. "Yeah, she is. I hope she's still alive!!"
Nikki braved the wave of poo-stench and went to open the window. I heard hshe and Cissy talking, and I heard Cissy say, "Yeah, I thought I should spray in there, but I wasn't brave enough." Apparantly we're all indimidated by poo-stink.
When Nikki came downstairs, I asked, "Is she okay? Was she concious? Seizing?"
Another good friend and customer who had been in while the Great Pooping Customer was there came back in to find us in a fit of giggles with both doors open to let in the chilly breeze. When we told him the story, he said, "Oh, thank God! I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was one of you girls, and someone was sick or something. Man, that was BAD!"
***
And now, for adventure number two (but not that kind of number two):
One of my bosses buys a lot of lotto tickets. What's more, he actually buys winning lottery tickets, on a fairly regular basis.
I'm not much of a lotto player. I bought one when I turned 18, just because I could. I've bought a couple since then. But Lee makes it look so easy! He comes in and says, "I got another $300 scratcher last night!" and before I know it, I've got lotto fever.
I can usually manage to resist the urge until it passes, but sometimes, you've just gotta scratch the itch. Today was one of those days. After lunch (I took my 10-year-old nephew out for lunch for his birthday. Am I the coolest aunt or what?) I stopped at the convienience store to pick up a soda, and I caved. I bought two $1.00 tickets, with no allusions whatsoever that I might win. I knew I was throwing my money away.
I sat in my car outside the store and scratched away. I needed three matching amounts to win. $20 . . . $50 . . . $500 . . . $500 . . . $20 . . . $500 . . . wait! What??? I stared at the ticket in utter disbelief.
"Holy crap." I could feel my heart thumping. Five hundred dollars! I just won five hundred dollars! Visions of the stuff I could buy with the money started dancing through my head as I scratched at the amounts more, cleaning it up so the clerk would have no question about my astounding luck.
$500 . . . Hah! . . . $500 . . . Wahoo! . . . wait, what's this? Why am I seeing more? There's not supposed to be anymore. $2,500?!?!? WTF????
And just like that, my hopes, dreams, and beautiful red furniture vanished into thin air. "Stupid freaking lottery," I grumbled.
When I got back to work, I blamed Lee, telling him he's a bad influence on me; I never bought lotto tickets before he started bragging.
He took it pretty well. I guess he's used to it. Lucky bugger.
