Friday, January 25, 2008

Thanks, Cowboy

Dear Mom,

Had a pretty nice day at work, though it's been really slow as it's winter. Business in a convenience store is a lot better during fishing season.

We did have a little excitement, don't know if it's the kind I'd like. A guy came in and asked where the bathroom was and I told him. The owner said he had been in before and had (ahem) trashed the bathroom and then left without buying anything. This time he went in, came out and left so she went in right behind him and came out really mad. He'd done it again. I followed him out to the parking lot where he was going to get into a truck being driven by his buddy, with the engine running. I stopped him and told him the owner would like to speak with him, and *now* would be good. I was also standing in front of the truck so he didn't have much choice. He went inside where she chewed him out and made him flush the toilet again. He stomped out saying he'd never come back in there again. I said "Good!" to his back as the door closed.

Don said he thought I did the right thing, unless he had decided to beat the crap out of us, in which case it would have been the wrong thing. Can't say I disagree, though. We get tired of people deciding they need to use the toilet and see us as a porta-potty. They could at least buy something. A couple of months ago two women came in and used the toilet, at the same time. When they left it was...well, I hope they received the medical attention they obviously needed. The lady on duty at the time spent at least three hours and half a bottle of Clorox cleaning the place up, and she couldn't eat her dinner that night. The next day the bathroom still stank so I sprayed every surface, including the walls, with a disinfectant solution. That finally got all of the smell out and we felt much better.

On the other hand, a very different incident occurred when I was on graveyard shift in another convenience store. On the graveyard shift, fairly often when the bars let out the drunks stop by on their way home; some of them use the bathroom. I'll spare you the details. One night, a (real) cowboy came in and asked where the restroom was and I told him. He went in and came out again, then wandered around the store for a bit like he couldn't decide what he wanted. Then he came up to the counter and looked around. I said, "You don't really have to buy anything." He said, "Oh, yes ma'am, I do. I was raised better than that." He bought a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket and politely took his leave. Thanks, cowboy.

I didn't check the bathroom.

I love you,


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