I got to work early. The band was a favorite, it's members good friends of ours. There were a number of people already there, drinking and smoking and eagerly awaiting a good rock show. I knew everyone. Waiters, bartenders, bar managers, bar and liquor store owners. Service industry veterans. So you can imagine my surprise when, upon entering the stall in the ladies room , I discovered that somebody had dropped a small pair of scissors and a large nail clipper into the toilet. And left them there. Surely they just hadn't noticed? The plumbing being questionable at my place of employment on a good day, I knew that these items would mean certain doom within the hour. I had no gloves. I had no tool or device with which I could fish the items, McGuyver-like, out of the toilet. I had to pee.
I took a deep breath and plunged my bare hand into the toilet, grasped the items and threw them into the trashcan.
I boiled and scrubbed my hand with a lot of soap.
I hadn't even clocked in yet.
I definitely picked the wrong week to go on the wagon.
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