Sunday, September 26, 2004

...and on the third day, God created Airwick.

I tell you, there's nothing I love more than when I come in for a Sunday shift, unlock the door and the very first patron through—Sunday Bob, a regular Sunday morning patron, hence the name, and a guy who had been pounding on the door to get in mere moments before—immediately goes into the restroom, spreads his cheeks and lets fly with a turd so stanky that our previous supply of fresh air flees in terror, leaving behind a sudden vacuum that instantly spreads the stench throughout the entire building.

Now, I am fully aware that the human ass can produce some pretty rank odors. I also realize it's hardly this guy's fault his ass fumes stank so bad. However, that's why God made air-freshener and that's why we keep a stock of said air-freshener in a VERY obvious location within the said EFFing restroom. I hardly need add that our particular can of said air-freshener went entirely unused by said patron.

Upon getting a whiff of dude's fumes, I experienced the sort of instantaneous anger one gets when punched in the back of the head unexpectedly. I wanted to march in there, grab the Airwick from the restroom and empty the contents of the can while goose-stepping up and down the computer hall, reciting "Ode To A Stanky Patron" in a German accent. I imagine that had I actually done this, it might have offended the patron. Well, so what? I'm offended that he had no more common sense or consideration for others than to turn my library into a hot zone!

Fortunately, I didn't have the sac to do that, nor to merely go back and spray down the restroom.

Perhaps I need to revisit my idea about putting up a sign in the restroom.

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An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.