De eerste dag van een nieuwe baan is altijd zwaar. Nieuwe collega’s, nieuw takenpakket. Het is allemaal nog een beetje eng, koudwatervrees, even wennen, je kent het wel. Als je die eerste dag maar doorkomt zonder noemenswaardige problemen. In elk geval zonder gênante situaties. Iets dat de gast van het volgende verhaal in elk geval niet is gelukt. Hij schreef het verhaal van zijn eerste werkdag tot in detail op. Een verhaal over een belangrijke les in het leven, zonder ook maar iets van zijn nieuwe baan te hebben opgestoken. Shit hé.
”I’m waiting outside in my car next to the guy that was going to be training me. He was in his car. We were waiting for the store to open so we could go inside and get to work. We met the day before at a get-to-know-your-coworkers party thing. We had some Chinese food at this party, which was delicious. So, I’m sitting in my car, and I feel a rumble in my tummy. "Oh," I thought to myself, "this’ll be a nasty one hehehe." I leaned to one side and I pushed with the might of a thousand horses. What came out was not a fart. No, no. What came out can only be described as previously-edible liquid nuclear waste. It burned. It smelled. It was sticky.
I ran to the door; they didn’t open for another 10 minutes. I pounded on the door, as the liquid acid was running down my legs and into my shoes. Someone appeared at the door; I shouted that I REALLY needed to use the restroom. I tried to look as desperate as possible – it worked. He opened the door for me and I awkwardly shuffled to the bathroom. I took off my shoes, socks, pants, and underwear, all of which were coated in this gooey mess. Out of shock, I dropped my underwear on the floor. They hit with a loud "splort" and splashed my bare feet. I wiped as much diarrhea off my pants and underwear as I could. I rinsed my shoes, socks, underwear and pants off in the sink. I held them under the hand drier for a good 4 or 5 minutes each. Shoes: Stinky, but what can I do without shoes? Pants: Can’t work without pants. Socks: completely done for. Underwear: I’ll chance it.
I re-dressed myself, and went to find my coworker. I walked fast, but the stench walked faster. No matter how much I tried, it was one step in front of me. I could smell it with every awkward step. My ass was already chaffing. I got to the back room, and I found my coworker. I told him, in great detail, what happened and that I needed to go home. He laughed and laughed and gagged and laughed. "No, you’re not going home on your first day!" he said in between gags/breaths. Our back-stock was in this small area in the corner of the backroom. My smell just lingered in the air like a bad girlfriend. You couldn’t get away from it. People stared. I made a scene. We tried to work through the smell, but it was unbearable. All 10 hours that day were surrounded by a mist of shit.
I didn’t learn a goddamn thing about my job that day, but I did learn something very important about myself: I don’t know the difference between warm diarrhea and a fart. Never trust a fart after a night of Chinese food.
P.S. My underwear had an oval-shaped piece missing right behind my butthole. I washed and dried them once, out of morbid curiosity as to whether or not the smell could be erased. When I pulled them out of the drier, there was a much bigger oval-shape of cloth missing. It was about 3 inches wide in the middle, and it ran from the tag on the waistband to the seam that would sit under my nutsack. It was completely barren of cloth. I showed my sister what the result was of my mistake. She didn’t believe me that diarrhea could do that. I asked if she wanted to smell them, to which she obliged. Even after being washed, they still wreaked of post-apocalyptic waste.."