Oh, for Blog's sake.

I have stories, some of which I've shared on other public blogging type things, so I think I'll start posting them here every now and again. This one's just a little over a year old, was relevant to the new job I had at the time:

Ok, so I have this relatively new job, a month or so, and like any other job I have a few bosses.

Let me rewind it a bit, Tarrantino style and explain.

I am working for this company, who will remain unnamed for legal and job keeping purposes, whose main responsibility is canvassing for various causes. Right now, we are canvassing for health care (once again, not saying what we were for, for various legal reasons.). The way the office is set up is one canvass director, basically the top boss, two field managers, secondary bosses, and the canvassers.

We're a new office. We will eventually have 4-5 field managers, but for now we have 2. One of which is going to Albuquerque for a month to cross train, right after the new year. SO, our one remaining Field Manager, the other night, gets the urge to poo. I never asked him the level of poo it was, but it must have been pretty severe, because while we were out, some random guy came out and caught him pooing on the side of his house.

We split up into teams to canvass neighborhoods, and unfortunately, I wasn't with this bowelly challenged soul. The police report said, however, that a man was found to be defecating on the side of a civillian's house. Down the block, when approached, the young man who was in tandem with the defacator, claimed to be in league with him, though denied knowledge of the defecator's defacating.

By the way, the guy that caught him had a gun that he flashed a few times, tucked in the elastic of his sweatpants.

Flash forward 30 minutes later, and I'm ready to be picked up. I hop in the van and immediately tell the first and only story of interest of the night, unaware of what had transpired with my colleagues: "I had to poo so damn bad. I jogged a block to a gas station, but their bathroom was out. Then I went to the Sonic next door, asked if there was anything I could buy that could gain me entrance to their crapper; Sadly there was not. So I walk/jogged a half a mile down the road to a Minsky's Pizza and Pub, where the man didn't even make me buy anything, just let me poop for free."

As it turns out, my innocent story of searching for a place to poo may have sealed this poor defecator's fate. Had we been somewhere that had no accessible or reachable shitter, it might have been different. But my story of overcoming anti-shitism combined with the fact that the guy SHIT ON THE SIDE OF A HOUSE, pretty much all contribute to his career with ******** ***** coming to an end.