I was the manager of a Circle K Convenience Store in Nashville, Tennessee, at the time of this incident. It was Powerball night, Wednesday night, and the Powerball was up to over $200,000,000.00. And, of course, I was working by myself. I had already worked first shift, and was halfway through second shift. I had been working a lot of doubles lately, and was extremely tired. I was on my fourth cup of twenty-four ounce cups of coffee, and needless to say, I had to pee like there was no tomorrow.
Our company policy was that we could not lock the doors for anything, so basically I had to smoke cigarettes and use the bathroom between customers. Now, this being Powerball night, and everyone trying to purchase their tickets before the draw break, I didn't have time to relieve myself. I had already been holding my pee for well over an hour.
I finally got the store cleared of all the customers and proceeded to head to the bathroom. I had made it to the employee restroom, and was about to relieve the four tons of pressure that had pushing on my bladder. On the way there, I had already begun to unbutton my pants in preparation for the sweet release. I had opened the bathroom door, and could not believe my eyes. I was in utter shock at what awaited me. Someone had gone into the employee restroom, and completely -- understatement of the century -- violated it.
It looked as if the culprit's colon moonlighted as a pressure washer at a drive in car wash. There was diarrhea explosions all over the trash can, the back of the toilet tank, the sink, the hand rails mounted to the wall, the mirror above the sink, and even a loose festering pile on the bathroom floor. Everywhere except where it was supposed to have been deposited.
I'm standing in the doorway with my jaw open, and all I could say was, "OH GOD!!!!!!!!"
My next thought for sweet relief was the customer restroom. I went there and opened the door, only to find that our anal assassin had struck there as well.
At this point, the dinger on the door was alerting me that customers were entering the store. I re-fastened my pants and proceeded to run to the front sales counter like I was in the Special Olympics. I was mad, to say the least. My anger was to the point that while I waited on the customers, I called my best friend, who also worked there, to inform her of the new paint job our bathrooms had been given.
When I got the customers out of the store, and off the phone, I couldn't even to imagine how I was going to begin cleaning the mess up so I could just pee. I had even contemplated on attempting to squat in the ever-nasty mop sink. Needless to say, I grabbed a gallon of bleach off the shelf, the mop and bucket, as well as several pairs (layers) of gloves to begin my attempt of salvaging the desecrated sanctuaries, still having to pee.
It took me about another hour between customers just to get the employee restroom cleaned. Even after it was cleaned, I still shuddered at the thought of using it, thinking about the carnage I had witnessed in there previously. But I did.
After my bladder was empty, I put both restrooms out of order for the rest of the night. That was enough excitement for me.
And people wonder why convenience stores now have to give you a key to use the restrooms.
