I was in Taco Bell a few days ago, enjoying a Burrito Supreme, two tacos, and a small Baja Blast. Which is my go-to order, by the way. The Burrito Supreme is expensive, compared to everything else there, but it’s so damn good… It’s probably one of the oldest things on the menu, and also my favorite. Here’s how it’s done: I eat one taco, the Burrito Supreme, and the final taco. In that order. And I lubricate throughout with their proprietary Mountain Dew concoction. It’s a system that’s served me well for many years.
In any case, I was sitting there by myself enjoying my meal and taking in all the ambience. And I noticed one of the behind-the-counter zitsters walk down the hall to the men’s room, and tap on the door a few times.
“Hey, Trevor,” he said.
“Yeah?” a muffled voice answered from inside.
“Hey, I’m scheduled until nine tonight. We’re not very busy. Do you think I could get off at eight?”
“Um, sure.”
Then the zitster walked back behind the counter to his questionable compatriots, and shouted, “Score! Trevor just told me I can leave an hour early.”
There are a few things that bother (and confuse) me about this…
First of all, the obvious. Why is Trevor shitting up the men’s room on company time? He’s in management and should be leading by example. The bowels can be trained quite easily. You just mentally set aside blocks of time when they CANNOT be engaged. And when it’s no longer a possibility, it’s no longer an issue. Trevor should be demonstrating to his young charges the importance of rectal discipline in the workplace. Already, I don’t have a high opinion of the man.
Also, I’ve been in that bathroom and it’s the size of a phone booth. What if I needed to off-load some Baja Blast, which I generally refill three times per visit? Now I have to hold it (which is certainly the path I’d take), or voluntarily walk into that chamber of ass and fill my lungs with the essence of Trevor? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’d rather piss myself.
Plus, he’s working with food. Right? I have no way of knowing about Trevor’s bathroom etiquette. Perhaps he scrubs in like a surgeon at the end? I seriously doubt it, based on the things we already know. But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. I suspect he’d still be trailing microscopic poop spores when he returns to the kitchen. Is that too paranoid? I admit that maybe it is. But it’s something that crosses my mind. I think he might be moving inside a highly-active shit cloud, invisible to the naked eye.
And what about the zitster conducting business while his manager is taking a dump? I find that objectionable, as well. Unless, of course, Trevor is a modern-day Lyndon Johnson who insists on such things? Even then, I have issues with it. Different issues, sure, but still issues.
Finally, the part that might actually bother me the most… When the zitster returned to the dubious faction behind the counter, he never once mentioned that Trevor was atop the poop-hoop while they talked. That wasn’t important? How could it not be important?! The younger generation looks at things differently, and I don’t care for it. Sometimes they seem delicate and prone to emotional collapse. But they’re also far more adult about certain things, like bathroom activities. It’s disturbing to me. Within a generation there will be no more fart jokes, because everybody will be taking the “it’s just a bodily function” approach. WTF?? Thankfully, I’ll be gone by then. But I worry about my kids. What kind of world will they be living in?
I need to go to work now, my friends. This was going to be a Few Quick Things update, about many subjects. But once I get started about crapping… it’s hard to get me to stop. And this is as it should be.
I’ll be back on Thursday.
Have yourselves a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
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Wow, first??? That’s never happened before! Now I wish I had a great story about crapping, but unfortunately no. However, the idea of someone trying to conduct business with me while I’m on the bowl really irks me to no end. It can surely wait, man, can’t it???
Thank you for validating my feelings on the subject. My office has several people who destroy the bathroom 10 min after arriving for the day. Have some discipline! Take care of that at home! I spend an inordinate amount of time being annoyed by that.
I’ve always held the belief that pinching a loaf on company time is very rewarding. My wife refuses to partake because co-workers will recognize her shoes and know she is the one dropping the boys off at the pool.
It’s been at least 12 years since I ate Taco Bell, but substantial “Baja Blasts” are my overriding memory of Taco Bell.
Isn’t taking a dump on the clock one of the few privileges workers have left? When I had a menial job in high school, clocking in then grabbing a newspaper and heading off to the bathroom was the morning routine.
Why poop at home when you can get paid to do it at work…
Right?
I’m not sure if I’ve eaten at Taco Bell in the last ten years. I’m not judging. Hell, Burrito Supreme and a Nacho’s Supreme were how I rolled. Actually now that I think about it, my last visit was somewhere between 2009 and 2012. I was driving a Taurus at the time and tried eating the burrito on the road. Poor decision on my part. Holding it one handed, the filling was forced to the bottom. It finally exploded, shirt, pants and drivers seat all covered in delicious burrito. That car was the only one I’ve owned in recent years that had a cloth interior, so cleaning it was a pain in the ass. Probably why I haven’t been back. May need to give it a try again.
I do not like to be spoken to when I’m taking a deuce.
Dude, I don’t know what training you’re speaking of, but I have no gallbladder. If I eat too much, gotta shit. If I eat too little, gotta shit. If I go for too long without eating, as soon as I eat, gotta shit. It’s a nightmare. You think I enjoy pooping all the damn time? Hell no.
So I feel for Trevor. I doubt shitting in a tiny Taco Bell bathroom was high on his list of things to enjoy.
Right there with ya, JM. When they are preparing to take your gallbladder out and you’re signing all those forms, there should be some sort of warning about spending the rest of your life pooping like a newborn. I may have reconsidered if I’d known that eating a small McDonald’s fry would put me on the shitter approximately 4 minutes post-ingestion.
If I ate that stuff – I would be parked on the toilet also.
I don’t know if this still a thing. But when I worked in such places back in the 1980s – the teenagers who worked there would come in and hang around on their day off. I always found that odd.
Also had my gall bladder removed. Could never eat a meal like Jeff did without paying the consequences not long after finishing. Everything is pretty much like DQ soft serve now days. If I get up from the seat quickly with a twist I can even make the signature curly-Q.
My pooping at work horror story consists of a store manager (Bob), and the shop manager (Lil’ John – we had two Johns and two Shawns, one of which is me!), at a Chicago-land bike shop I used to work at (name withheld).
Bob was an older hippie who rode year round, and wore sandals year round, even in Chicago winters! Being a hippie, you probably already can guess his dietary, and subsequently, shitting ‘habits’.
Lil’ John was younger, and a drinker. He ate like shit and drank shitty beer. If you had to open with either of them, it was bad. But if both of them opened the store, you were praying to your deity of choice.
What made things worse, was the shop part of our store was in the back, literally right next to the restrooms. There could have been an industrial grade, weatherproof sealed door as thick as a bank vault door and the fumes still would have escaped. Your nostrils were violated as soon as you came through the front door. You could almost tell who was working that day, just by the smells. To describe it as horrendous, is not an exaggeration. The best was when sneaky customers would come in right after we opened, thinking the were going to pull one over on us by dropping a deuce in our bathroom. Little did they know they were bringing firecrackers to Hiroshima. Anyway, they would come in, breeze right past the shop area with a smug smirk on their face, and a quickness in their step. As soon as they got near the restrooms, the coughing and gagging would start. It was all we could do not to laugh.
It was like this for a few months, until Bob got fired by corporate (?), and Lil’ John got fired a few months after that for arguing with a customer that shoved a bicycle at him, even though we all stood up for him whether we saw it or not.
Do I get any bonus points for stating to write this shitty(!) novella at work…on the ‘poop hoop’? (I chickened out and had to get back to work.)
We have a locked bathroom where I work. So only employees can use it. There are people from a certain department that stink the place up bad. I think they eat pizza everyday for lunch. I have often had to hold my nose in there.
“Little did they know they were bringing firecrackers to Hiroshima. ” – LMAO – Brilliant!
I treat the bathroom like the left lane on the interstate. Get in, do your business, then get out. Hate using any other toilet than the one at my home. When some dude says he reads on the pot till his legs fall asleep, I cringe.
“The Great Taco Bell Pooping Manager Mystery” A Frank and Joe Hardy Mystery Story by Franklin W. Dixon
7 of us share a bathroom in an old house (2 guys, 5 gals). And it only gets cleaned once a week. I really want to invest in Depends some days. The Delicate Little Flower of the office (and it’s one of the 2 guys) has to shit in there every day and uses about a gallon of that VIPoo gagroma to cover the stench.. And he’s in there a good 20 minutes. Even when he pees it’s longer than normal. I think he washes his dick every whiz.
I get very little alone time so don’t even THINK about started a conversation. I don’t care if your head’s on fire – punch it out and we’ll discuss it after I’m done.
Why was the manager using the customer crapper? Isn’t there an employee only restroom? I bet he works all different shifts and his bodily functions are out of whack. Which makes for some fine story telling on Jeff’s part!
I try to avoid public restrooms if at all possible. There is always some guy in a stall moaning and groaning like he’s trying to pass a rusty fishing lure.
After Jeff’s story, Taco Bell now has the same allure as the salad bar at the local Stop and Shop.
I have no problem pooping at work. Everybody poops, what’s the big deal? I’ll tell you — people that don’t FLUSH. God dammit — turn around, make sure everything went down. If not flush again..and again…and again. you’re no paying the water bill and no one wants to see your floaters.
“If it weren’t for unions, we wouldn’t be able to shit on company time. Think about that the next time you vote.” -Some union leader somewhere