Flush With Success

I used to work in a home improvement store known for its affinity with orange. In the beginning, it was assumed your break started when you got into the break room, but in the later years, it started when you were told to go on break, and if you got stopped by customers and asked to help for part or all of your break, too bad.

Also, as those who have worked in or know someone who worked in our chain of stores can tell you, our restrooms are somehow a magnet for people who wake up and decide to create avant-garde art with their feces. So, if you need a restroom break, you’d better hope there’s a stall unoccupied and relatively sanitary available. 

I was a little slow during one break, arriving back three minutes late (appalling, I know), and a front-end supervisor, whom I will lovingly call “Idiot,” got on my case about it.

Idiot: “[My Name], you’re late back from break. You need to be faster.”

I’m about to explain the process of excretion and hygiene to her in graphic detail when inspiration for an excuse strikes me.

Me: “Sorry, but a customer… uh… missed when using the toilet. I thought I should clean it up then.”

[Idiot]’s facial expression changes into a grimace.

Idiot: “Oh God, was it one or two?”

Me: *Making the best grimace I can.* “Yes.”

Idiot: “Ew, ew, ew. Tell me you washed your hands!?”

Me: “Repeatedly. Hard.”

She demanded I douse my hands with hand sanitizer before I went back on a register. I eventually left that wretched place behind (and never looked back) for a job where I decide when I go to the bathroom, and the only mess I clean up is my own.