Within minutes of coming into the office today, JC was lying on the ground with his head behind the toilet trying to fix the toilet seat. Granted, I told him yesterday that the seat was broken, but it was a startling image when I saw him. No gloves, just on the dirty floor balls deep into replacing the toilet seat. I really should commend the effort.
But this go-getter attitude backfired about an hour later.
What happened was… inexplicable. I cannot honestly fathom what was going through his mind when he did what I’m about to describe. Sometimes things happen and I say “Wow, we’re so alike, he’s clearly my father“, and it fills me with a sense of pride. And other times, like this one, I wonder how we’re related at all.
Tom, Jeff, and I were working hard to ship orders. JC went out the front door for a moment where just down the sidewalk, a porta-potty for construction workers (and the occasional homeless man) sits.
When JC returned, I kid you not, he was holding by his tippy-fingers a pair of soaking wet jeans that were covered in shit. Someone shit themselves, left their jeans at the porta-potty, and JC decided it was HIS responsibility to dispose of them. No gloves. No bag to put them in. Just wet, wet mud.
![](https://i0.wp.com/splittingtens.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/wat.png?resize=466%2C361&ssl=1)
The three of us start yelling, asking what the hell he’s doing as he continues his trek towards the dumpster. The smell was horrible. Like we were just sitting in a poop-filled porta-potty.
With no forethought, he throws the jeans in the dumpster as is. I immediately say “You put those in a box or something right?” Of course not. He gets a box and puts them in.
When asked WHY he did it, he said something like “I’ve been there before, I know how that is“. I didn’t bother asking why he didn’t put gloves on or the dozen other questions that came to mind. What’s done was done.
A few hours later the smell was pretty much gone. Someone’s bad day had been erased from Vine Street. There’s anger and confusion in the moment, but when I look back at stories like this, I can’t help but laugh.
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