Work Stories: Episode 34: A Crappy Day

Previously on Work Stories, I told you about the time that a Mexican dignitary went through the museum that I work at.  I still don’t know for sure that it was the person I was told it was, but it’s amazing all the same.  All of those black SUVs that pulled up on the street were a sight that I will remember for quite a while.  This week, I won’t be writing about black SUVs.

The story for this week is something shitty that happened to me just after work one day.  This is something that you might all enjoy because it’s the type of story that people really like.  It was a thing that happened to me which many people would laugh at me because of.  I’m going to share it with you out of my love for the people that read this.  I want to let you laugh at me for something other than the way I write things.

I’ll begin by saying that this didn’t actually happen at work.  It happened across the street from work right after I had punched out for the day.  I was working at the hotel as a parking lot attendant.  As I’ve said before, there was another parking lot right across the street from where I worked.  The thing I never told you before now is that I knew the guy who worked there.  I had worked with him before at one of the New Year’s Eve concerts that I worked at.  I also went to school with his brother.  That’s how I knew the guy.

One day, I went over to talk to him after work.  I don’t remember what we were talking about, or how long we were talking.  All I remember is that I had punched out, gotten on my bike, and I had ridden over there to talk with him.  Those details aren’t all that important.  What is important to the story is the stuff that happened at the end.

After talking to this guy for a while, I felt something hit me right on the top of the head.  It wasn’t rain.  It wasn’t hail.  It wasn’t snow.  It wasn’t any type of precipitation.  The thing that had hit me right on the top of my head was a giant glob of bird shit from a seagull that was flying overhead.  I had bird shit in my hair.

The guy handed me some paper towel, and I wiped as much of the bird shit off as I could.  That wasn’t going to get it all, but it was going to get enough of it for the ride home.  The ride home.  Let’s talk about that for a little bit.

An average ride home was about twenty-five minutes because it was uphill almost the entire way.  This day, it took me about ten minutes.  I pedaled my ass off on my bike thinking to myself “There’s shit in my hair!  There’s shit in my hair!”  It was my own version of “I think I can.”  It was my way of getting myself home and in the shower as quickly as possible.

When I got home, my clothes were instantly on the floor and I was in the shower.  I was going to get the shit out of my hair as soon as I possibly could.  I probably washed my hair about four times before getting out of the shower.  I know that’s not necessarily good for your hair, but I wanted to make sure I was clean.

That’s the end of this week’s Work Story.  There isn’t anything else I need to add to it.  I haven’t been shit on by a bird since, so I guess that’s a good thing.  I’ll be back next week with another in the long line of Work Stories that I have.

Until then, don’t eat the creepy old lady pot farmer’s gingerbread house.