If you have ever read Wear Gloves and Protective Eyewear you may know that I like to talk a lot of shit. Or maybe I should say I talk about shit. Maybe you’ll remember We Have A Plunger Just In Case and Butt Plug Not Included. In the fine tradition of those great entries I bring you Would You Tell Your Boss?
I have an employee his name is Reyes. He is what we call an irrigator. His job responsibilities require that he work a lot by himself. We need to be able to trust him to keep busy and do an honest days work without much supervision. We have found that not to be the case with Reyes. He appears to be getting very little done, and what is done is done half-ass. (Half-ass would be a technical term we use in the golf business.)
I have made it known to Reyes that I’m not satisfied with his job performance. He said I had some sort of problem with him and complained to my new boss. Mistake. Now my boss holds him accountable for every minute he is on the golf course. Reyes is now freaked out that he is going to loose his job, he should be. He calls me and reports to me every little thing that he does. Things are better, but it has gotten a little extreme.
As I am driving to the clubhouse to get some lunch I come across Reyes driving back to the maintenance shop in a hurry. He pulls me over to talk.
Hey Tom I gotta go home.
What’s the matter?
I’ve got real bad diarrhea and I shit my pants.
Umm...really?
REALLY. I shit in my underwear a couple of hours ago so I threw them away. Now I’ve shit in my pants....
Stop stop stop, enough, don’t get out of your seat. Just go home. Call me tomorrow if you can’t come in. I’m going to lunch now. (Yum.)
Later that day while I was washing my hands in the bathroom. As I threw away the paper towel I noticed a pair of underwear in the trashcan. I was curious, but not that curious.
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7 comments:
I guess he was that desperate about his job. The amazing thing is how these poo stories find you. You are a master scatologist my friend, you really know your $%*#.
Smart man.....
In regards to Spaces....turns out one of my caption contests, the one with the old, over-weight angel with no shirt or bra on wa the culprit becaue it violated their policy about partial nudity. Didn't specify whether the partial nudity was appealing. So I deleted that post and all is good.
Now I'm faced with a dilemma; do I keep Spaces entirely or do as you did and just have a note reidrecting everyone to your Blogspot spot?
You know... if I were so unfortunate to have a leaky bottom while at work and, even more unfortunate, be forced to remove my Under Roos... I would force those drippy underbits waaaaayyyyyy down to the bottom of the can where they may never see the light of day. Or stack a shit load of paper towels over them.
Poor choice of words. Sorry.
This sounds like my worst nightmare (on a personal level rather than managerial). This reminds me of something that happened to me as a kid. We went to visit some church friends who had moved but were visiting and docked on the harbor. Their boat was a yacht. My sister warned me not to go to the bathroom on the boat because it would flush into the harbor. I was 5 and she was 13and I believed her like the gullible dumbass that I was. But I had to go. HORROR! So, I went in my underwear and then disposed them in the bathroom trash. The wife of the couple must have discovered it because my mom later asked me if I had a problem...
You really crack me up with these stories. Why did he come in, in the first place? And Why did he think it was okay to shed his drawers in the bathroom and go on with his day? LOL
Wow, that's pretty gross. I wonder what he ate that day. Then again, I don't think I want to know what he ate that day.
Nora- Yes, I know my frass.
Kristi- Dump the Spaces. You'll catch on to Blogger.
Elizabeth- I bet that happens all the time where you work.
Sarah- I hope you got even.
Stacy- Read the plunger post. These guys throw the butt wipe in the trashcan.
Patty- Lakers are going to kick some Boston butt.
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