Every time my foreman Jay would go on vacation, Lou would take over for him running the fab shop. It was on one of these occasions that disaster struck.
Picture this: hottest day of July, seven AM. Rob and Sean are in the shit house doing their morning ritual when suddenly and without warning -- shades of Pearl Harbor -- someone flings himself into the stall between them and volcanically explodes all over the place.
Now, mind you, I was not there -- but the incident was very graphically described to me. Apparently, and with good cause and foresight, both Rob and Sean fled for their lives, while this person who we shall know for now only by the moniker of "Shitty" proceeded to erupt brown lava all over the walls, floor, and anything else within a twenty-foot radius.
No one saw this individual enter or exit the bathroom. However, shortly thereafter, the shop foreman, Ron, happens into the vicinity. He quickly calls the unfortunate circumstances to Lou's attention. They stand there gagging.
Ron: "You know, someone's gonna have to clean this up..."
Lou: "Don't even look at me. I'm serious. Don't even think about it, because I swear to God, I'm going to puke!"
Ron ended up with the misfortune of this duty. Ron is a devout Christian. In all the years he worked there, the guys said it was the only time they ever heard him "motherfuck."
So the day goes on.
Lou is standing at his desk, and he keeps catching whiffs of shit.
So he starts thinking that it's all in his imagination. But just in case something might be rotten in one of the garbage barrels, he has Eric empty all of them.
But the smell persists.
So now he thinks: "Well, sometimes when the oak pallets get wet, they smell really foul. That must be it."
So now everyone is tasked with throwing away old pallets.
But this doesn't help, either.
Finally, Lou assigns a new task to this one brand new apprentice, a guy who was on his second day of work. The task takes said apprentice to another area of the shop.
Suddenly, the smell disappears.
This piques Lou's curiosity. He walks over to where this apprentice is working, and the shit smell hits him like a brick wall. There is also a very suspicious-looking brown trail down the back of the apprentice's pants and into his shoe.
Can you believe this kid worked all day in hundred-degree heat like that? Better man than me, dude; I would have definitely thrown myself in the river, thrown away my clothes, and gone home. Naked. With newspapers on the seat.
So: henceforth, in certain circles, this apprentice was known as "Shitty."
One day the next summer, I happened to be working for another company in the local. My boss at the time just so happened to be Shitty's dad.
So somehow the subject comes up in conversation at lunchtime.
I tell him the legend of his son. He promises to buy him a personalized baseball cap with "Shitty" on the front. What a victory!
I'm actually friends with Shitty now. I've worked with him on several occasions, and he always rabidly denied the story. Finally, however, he eventually confessed to me that yes, he in fact was the culprit on that day.
I swear: if Ron ever found out that we know who Shitty really is, he would come out of retirement solely for the purpose of kicking his ass.
