The Tale of the Rogue Shitter

“Do you have a tissue?”

A seemingly innocuous question, especially considering the time of the year.

“No,” I replied. “Walmart generally doesn’t let us keep tissues here for public use.”

She nodded, I finished checking her out, and she calmly walked away.

Looking up to the next woman in line, I notice an expression of confusion and slight terror in her eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

She stammers, “Is that… is that shit?”

Perplexed I leaned over the counter to see what she was pointing at. There, on the normally sparking white floor, was a smeared brown mass leading away from the register. Trailing away from the smear proper were clear footprints with a small Nike symbol emblazoned upon them.

Quickly, I begin to analyze my encounter with the previous customer. There was a hint of tequila on her breath… did she stammer? What else did she buy? Was she wearing a dress?... Yes she was, a black and white floral print dress.

Why did she ask for a tissue? Oh wait…

The woman in line quickly steers her cart to another line while I block off my lane. I beckon for the CSMs to come to my area. Needless to say we are taught how to handle all sorts of spills, but human feces is not one of them.

“What… is that chocolate ice cream?” asks my perplexed CSM. When I state what I believe it to be she quickly asks, “Should we smell it?”

Should we smell it? You didn’t need to smell it. There was the typical corn kernel present, the ultimate calling card of feces on the floor.

If there even is such a thing.

How you can casually walk away from such an event I will never know. And to knowingly track it all the way out the door on top of it. In some twisted way, I'm impressed she maintained her composure, although now I know why she was exceptionally polite to me.

It’s also a good thing for her she chose to go commando that day. It was, however, not a good thing for us that she chose to go commando that day.

Moral of the story is when you gotta go, just go on the floor. Everyone likes a surprise.