I'm a tilesetter by trade, and years ago, I was installing a kitchen with my helper Mark. The customer was a "snooty rich bitch" (in Mark's term) who came in now and then to watch, her expression indicative that she smelled shit, or, more likely, Mark farting.

Ever critical of our work, she had us change a few tiles she deemed unsatisfactory for her own reasons, and I could tell Mark was becoming a little miffed by her running us through flaming hoops. That afternoon,in the truck on the way back to the shop, Mark's mood passed, and he began cracking up, giggling to himself over on the shotgun side.

Finally, he owned up to the cause of his mirth: just before we'd left, he'd gone into her bathroom and left a huge swirling "grogan" (as he called the monster turds) without flushing or even turning the fan on. I had to laugh, picturing the change to her expression when she beheld the real deal.

When we got to the shop, the boss informed us that she'd called, and we wouldn't be returning the next day to grout (he'd have to send someone else), and any plumbing bills she incured would be coming out of our checks. I could tell he was laughing on the inside, after Mark explained what a tough customer she was, and I couldn't resist a shit eating grin, knowing Mark ate a lot of beef and it probably smelled up the whole house.
-- John [1]