In an unexpected bout of generosity, I've decided to bless those around me with a second consecutive week of Wayne's Wisdom. Here it is:
Don't shit in an already clogged toilet.
This is what a fellow co-worker of mine decided to do. It's unexplainable. We were having issues with our drains when Calva, our elderly Ecuadorian delivery driver, decided to double down on the damage that was already being done to our dumper. By that I mean he walked into the store, past the employee billboard with the warning sign that read, "DON'T USE THE TOILET. WE'RE HAVING DRAIN ISSUES," waddled right by the three unit dish sink that was overflowing up the sink and back into the store and made his way right into the bathroom. The same restroom that had a toilet that had water up to the lid because the pipes were so incredibly backed up. He then proceeded to plant his enormous ass on the seat and set Mr. Hankey free.
How does anybody display this type of blind ignorance? It's not just that he missed all the warning signs leading up to his laying a log in the latrine. The astounding part is that he placed his derriere on a dumper that was nearly discharging dirty water onto the tile floor. His sac had to literally soak in shitty water when him and his panis decided to envelop the toilet. The water was entirely too high. There's no way that his butt-cheeks and ball sac didn't go for a dip in the world's worst sludge filled spa. That's where it gets confusing. When your nether-regions feel like someone took a shit filled Super Soaker to them, you'd think there'd be a moments hesitations before unloading your log. In Calva's defense, I guess there'd be zero splash back. Your ass would essentially be at one with the backdoor bomb and the bowl of bile filled water. It would essentially be like shitting in zero gravity.
The fantastic part of the whole situation is that the entirety of the crew realized the crime against humanity that Calva was going to commit before he even committed it. I even tried to stop the abomination before it began. I sprinted for the door the second I heard the click of the restroom's deadbolt. Once I got to the door, I knocked and said, "Calva, the toilets are clogged, what are you doing????!!" His reply? "....You're too late." And that's an understatement, because our boss wound up having to remove this wrongdoing from the restroom before the plumber arrived. Think about that the next time you bandy about the idea of owning your own store. Just realize that you might have to strain some Spanish shit out of some seriously stagnant water before your nights over with.
Let this be a lesson to everyone. People don't pay attention, minimum wage workers have less life in them than a morgue at midnight and nothing gets in the away of the obese when they need to liberate a snickers bar.
Seriously, just pay attention to what you're doing. If you sit down on the ol' porcelain throne and you feel like you've waterlogged your Wonder Mop, you should probably play it safe and chamber that prairie dog that's poking out. I think it's safe to say that everything will work out for you. It's pretty safe to assume that there are enough restrooms around town to accommodate even the most elephantine sized arse.