Problem Customer Number Two

(I am working at an independent gas station in the nineties. There not many shops in the area, and this is the only one open 24 hours. I am working the rare morning shift during the busy tourist season — the station is near a lake — and it’s just me and the manager. A customer comes up.)

Customer #1: “You might want to check the bathroom.”

(I do, and some lovely customer has liquid-pooped all over the small bathroom. That stuff covers from the ground up to four feet, even above the handicap bars and sink. The customer was also nice enough to leave his stinky underwear in the middle of floor. I get out and yell for the manager. He comes by.)

Me: “You might want to look in the bathroom.”

(He does and walks right out. He looks at me, and I look at him. He gets a quarter from his pocket and we flip on who is cleaning the bathroom. I lose. He goes to the booth to ring a customer up. I prop open the door, snake the outdoor hose in, and douse everything in bleach. While I’m doing this, a customer comes up.)

Customer #2: “I need to use the bathroom.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, the bathroom is closed for cleaning.”

Customer #2: “I really, really need to use the bathroom.”

(Mind you, the store is beginning to smell of bleach and poo.)

Me: “Again, sorry, ma’am, but the bathroom is closed. There is a fast food joint next door and a grocery store down the street.”

Customer #2: “I REALLY NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!”

Me: “Ma’am, SOMEONE TOOK A S*** ALL OVER THERE! IT AIN’T GOING TO BE OPEN FOR ANOTHER HOUR!”

(The customer squeaks and turns around, then goes to the manager and complains. He is laughing over the conversation, and when she does complain, he says:)

Manager: “How did you not smell that?”