The one redeeming thing about working at the Crew has been the staff. For the most part the people are young, smart, funny, but more important, they are cynical, jaded, and wonder too on a daily basis why they are folding argyle,v-neck, merino sweaters. It's basically a where-did-things-go-awry-fest. My favorite subject.
Though I do like my co-workers, there are only a handful to whom I've all but completely dropped my proverbial 'filter' (and it is arguable that I even possess the shadow of one in the first place). So during break-time conversations I've tried to keep the nasty factor in the yellow zone, every now and then coming dangerously close to elevating it into the red, but to pat myself on the back, I've been as 'reserved' as I can be.
A few days ago a group of us were chatting in the window-less, stale, shoebox in the back of the store that has been relegated as the employee break room merely b/c it has four stools, a water cooler, and a small microwave breeding paleostine amoeba on it's rotating tray. There was me, a big, ghetto stock guy named Pablo, a cute, petite New-Yorican named Eileen, and a few fawny cashiers.
Pablo: Damn! The water in that cooler is fuckin' warm yo! The water in the toilet bowl is cooler then that!
Me: Yeah? You have a habit of lapping it up from the bowl?
Pablo: Nawww, not really, heh heh.
Me: Well what makes you an expert on the temperature of the bowl water?
Eileen (looking up casually from her empanada): It's b/c when Pablo takes a big shit in the morning, the shit plops into the bowl and all of this water splashes up on his ass. Dat's how he know it cold!
Me: Ewww, that's disgusting!
Eileen: But you know it's true. Don't tell me that ain't true. You know it's true.
Me: Umm, yeah. It's true.
Mind you, we were all eating lunch then as well. Rare are the moments when I'm the one that's flabbergasted and not standing on the other side of 'the line.' In a room full of half-strangers half-heartedly enjoying their fast food, I think visions of plopping shits took the cake for most inappropriate. Or maybe I'm just becoming a prude. It's a fine like folks.
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