Undead in Indiana:
So the day started out decently enough...mostly...found out that something made the milk go sour in the fridge. Okay...well, worse things have happened.
And indeed they would.
Then at work somebody (probably somebody's child) made a huge fecal mess all along the carpeting between my register and the door, and I only found out about it when a customer pointed it out to me as he was leaving...proving that not only am I horrifically ignorant of what my customers are doing *right in front of me*, but that I don't get out from behind my register nearly as often as I should.
And proving once and for all that people are jerks.
Somebody or somebody's kid did this, and nobody said anything to me, not, "Sorry, my kid has diarrhea" or, "Sorry, I have diarrhea" or "Hey, that lady's kid pooped all over your floor!" Unless they just didn't see it happen, in which case I only feel like HALF the fool.
And then came the cleanup. But not before another poor customer rushed up, ignored my warning and stepped in it! So, profuse apologies on my part, and paper towels.
And more frantic calls for cleanup help.
So before any other unfortunate wetness could occur, I whisked the remaining customers across the aisle to the other register, which unfortunately faces the western windows, at a time when the sun is inching, slowly and painstakingly, toward the horizon.
And it got right in my face.
My fellow employees know my pain, for they've invariably been through it too. I couldn't even look at the customers or read the register totals without shading my eyes, face screwed up in agony and feeling like a vampire.
Thankfully my dauntless fellow employees were on the job, cleanup finally occurred, and no more customers had to suffer the wet. (Although today must have been Public Humiliation Day, because my fellow employee informed me that she'd just minutes before had to clean up a full-blown adult-sized defecation on the floor just OUTSIDE the bathrooms! Oh, the humanity.)
But finally all was well, sufficiently mopped, bleached, swept and smelling sweet again, and eventually I was able to make my way back across the aisle and back into the darkness of the shadows to await the coming of night.
The rest of the night was uneventful, and I slunk back home, wounded but alive.
So now I'm relaxing at home, and celebrating my survival of this day with "Tin Man" on DVD and some Oreos. I have no milk. but it will have to do.
--Undead in Indiana