Oliver the orphan turd

20 Nov

Dressing rooms are not a proper venue for defecation.

How I wish I could say I’d never had any kind of experience involving someone else’s abandonded tighty-whities, a large broom handle, and rogue fecal matter.

But then I’d be lying.

I was closing up the skate shop I worked at during college.  It was late, all the customers had left and I had just sent my sales kids home for the night.  I was locking the gate when the phone rang.

My boss Harrison was on the other end attempting to communicate through fits of hysterical laughter.

“Ry, I’m sorry to do this to you but………well………I need you to go into the dressing room.  There’s something under the bench…..and I’m pretty sure…..yea, I’m pretty sure it’s poop.”

Harrison was calling from the pub down the street.  He’d spotted the turd earlier in the evening and decided to leave it there.  What better way to gross out your only female employee than by calling her after four bottles of Bud to request she look under the bench to discover the not-so-buried treasure.

Of course, I didn’t instantly go into the dressing room.  I had some questions first.

“Hey drunky-what makes you think I’m going to go on a crap-hunt as I’m walking out the door?  Did you put something scary under there and you just want to freak me out like that time you put the plastic severed hand in there?  Is that what this is all about?  Do you honestly expect me to believe that some kid shat his underwear and shoved them under our bench?!?!”

Each question brought forth a wheeze of uncontrollable laughter.  At some point he put me on speaker phone and I could hear the rest of the bar and several drunken coworkers cheering.

“Ry, I just need you to go and see it.”

“Harrison, I’m not touching poop.  It’s just not happening.”

At this point I could hear the sixty year old bartender who served us bottles because he’d never cleaned a pint glass in his life holler out:  “Come on sweetheart, you can do it!”

And so, cheered on via speakerphone by a group of men in a dive bar, I knelt down on the dressing room floor.  Looking under the bench I unfortunately spotted the lone ranger of the toilet world.   Sadly sighing there in the worn fabric, ashamed of himself, of his master, and of his current living situation.

Oliver, the orphan turd of the skate-shop dressing room.

I screamed out ‘disgusting’ to the sound of clinking glasses and a far-off call for a round of jager bombs.

Not that I did anything about it.  Despite his greatest efforts, Harrison and his band of brothers could not convince me to retrieve the fruit nor the loom from the cement floor.  Oliver spent the night there that evening.

The next morning I made a saleskid dispose of the situation with a broomhandle.  The underwear, the feces, and the handle all ended up in the dumpster that day.  Harrison stood by, one hand clutching a coffee, the other rubbing his temple as he pieced together his evening of crap-swapping tales amongst the men of the dive bar.  Evidently they’d all bonded over this while shooting darts and placing bets on whether or not I’d take care of the situation.

Overnight, Oliver had become a sensation.

I’ll never know how he got there or if he belonged to Harrison, but I bet there’s never been feces with as great a following as the lone turd and his beer-guzzling companions.

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17 Responses to “Oliver the orphan turd”

  1. Bob November 20, 2010 at 3:01 am #

    Ewww that is just wrong!! Funny but wrong!

    • wanderingmenace November 20, 2010 at 3:11 am #

      Yea I agree. There is a time and a place for a turd, and Oliver was just outta line.

  2. Gnetch November 20, 2010 at 8:47 am #

    Haha. I loved the way you related this story. That was disgusting. But funny. How old was Oliver?

    • wanderingmenace November 20, 2010 at 8:55 am #

      Yea, it really was completely disgusting. I have a friend who also worked retail and she’s got a similar story. Sadly, I think things this vile happen more often than we realize…..
      (insert shudder here)
      As for his age, dunno. Not sure how to determine that really, and I can promise you I wasn’t going to get close enough to examine Oliver in any detail. Saw him, left him, tried not to think about him….

  3. Man-shopper November 20, 2010 at 1:08 pm #

    This story proves the point that men are so very different from women. What girl you know would’ve pulled the shit (no pun intended) that Harrison did?? No girl I know. Unless she hated you with a searing passion. SEARING. Like irrational-evil-Disney-villain kind of hatred.

    • wanderingmenace November 20, 2010 at 2:46 pm #

      Yea, it’s a different world working amongst the skater boys.
      It’s hilarious, don’t get me wrong, but there were definitely times when things were disgusting, as good old Oliver proved.
      I’m not sure a Disney Villain would stoop that low, though I suppose if given the proper incentive, any cartoon character is capable of horror.

  4. lifestartsnow November 20, 2010 at 2:14 pm #

    hey, thanks for stopping by my blog. turds, poets and a boy’s name – i’ll stop by your blog again!

    franzi

    • wanderingmenace November 20, 2010 at 2:47 pm #

      Haha
      Well thanks. I’m loving the description of my work. Very nice. Makes me feel like I’m contributing to society.

      I’ll be back on yours too for sure!

  5. suki @ [Super Duper Fantastic] November 20, 2010 at 4:25 pm #

    That is just TOO MUCH. 😛 It really does sound like it might have been planted by your boss man.

    • wanderingmenace November 20, 2010 at 6:05 pm #

      Hahahaha
      Maybe though I really don’t think so…

  6. Vodka and Ground Beef November 21, 2010 at 1:56 am #

    This post rings home for me because, and I’m not joking, I used to work at Nordstrom and occasionally there’s be urine in the dressing rooms. People could not stop to use the pisser – they just had to try on those jeans asap. It was crazy.

    • wanderingmenace November 23, 2010 at 4:09 pm #

      hahaha
      It’s really incredible what the human race is capable of. How freaking hard is it not to relieve yourself in a dressing room?

      I mean, the thought of standing in that godawful florescent lighting, surrounded by clothing bound to be unflattering, and saying to myself:
      ‘well, when you gotta go…”
      Seriously?
      People amaze me.

  7. seine November 21, 2010 at 10:31 pm #

    WHAT?? What a ridiculous boss. I would haven’t touched it either with a 5-foot pole. i like how you passed the responsibility along the next morning, haha

    • wanderingmenace November 23, 2010 at 4:10 pm #

      yea I definitely wasn’t getting any closer to it, that’s for sure. I’ll happily pick up after my dog-but that’s as far as my friendly turd relations go…
      thanks for stopping by!

  8. AmericanBridget November 23, 2010 at 4:02 pm #

    Hilarious…pissed my panties laughing, but I won’t leave them in a dressing room.

    Female Ryan’s are damn funny and witty.

    Loved it.

    Best,
    AmericanBridget (aka RYAN)!

    • wanderingmenace November 23, 2010 at 4:12 pm #

      Yea Ry, please don’t leave em in the dressing room.
      Glad to make you laugh though. Your blog is hilarious, I keep thinking of that guy in the weird ass thanksgiving outfit and finding it appropriate for an online dating picture.
      Awesome.
      Yes, girl Ryan’s unite!

  9. subWOW November 26, 2010 at 7:57 am #

    This is one heck of a story, one heck of a tribute to the long turd who was a legend one night at a bar…

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