Retelling a story, especially a funny one, is an art. Telling it in written word and getting it across the right way is to excel at the art and I am sure that I do not. Every time I think of a funny story I can share it suddenly becomes unfunny in my head. It’s like the only way I can tell a funny story is if you can hear my inflection (is that the right word?), tone, see my facial expressions, and hand gestures. Those who know me can guess a little bit. It really is quite the production. Maybe, my stories are more about the production than the actual story. Damn. Was that an epiphany? Let me tell you a semi funny story then.
I used to work for nonprofit managing fundraising efforts in 4 communities. Two of my communities overlapped with another so the manager for the other area and I decided to do some joint efforts in fundraising. We decided on the purple potty. How it works if someone can pay $10 to put the purple potty in someone else’s yard. To remove the toilet it costs $10, to remove the toilet and move it to another yard is $20, and to remove it, move it to another yard, and get ‘insurance’ that it won’t come back to your yard is $30. We had signage that went with it to explain what we were doing and the fundraiser.
First step is to acquire a purple toilet. No luck in finding a purple one, but a good friend remodels houses so I ask if they have one around. He does, gave me the address and I came to pick it up. He has some guys there who help load it into the car; all the while I can see the crazy expressions on their face wondering why in the hell I want a used toilet. I take it home clean it and start to town with the purple spray paint. Spray paint doesn’t work great on a toilet but it got the job done enough. The lid for the toilet was missing so I went to DT and get some purple flowers to fill the back. Doesn’t that look nice?
We kicked off the fundraiser with putting it in the Mayor’s yard (prearranged) and let him to decide where to send it next. All the volunteers for the event know about it and there was a small article in the paper if anyone wanted to participate. We had a lot of calls about, ‘That better not show up in my yard.’ ‘I’ll break it if you put it in my yard.’ ‘Don’t come out here, I’ll shoot ya.’ Yeah people are real offended by a purple toilet.
We took the potty several places, including a parking spot. Most of the people were good sports about it and if we didn’t hear from someone we removed it after 24 hours. We did have a few that just wanted it gone so we removed it not big deal, until…. Someone paid to have it taken to a house out in McMullen Cove. For those who aren’t familiar McMullen Cove is a real damn fancy neighborhood. The homes are in the upper 6 figures to over a million dollars. This house was huge, beautiful and no one was around during the day when we dropped it off, except the construction workers across the street building the next million-dollar home. I am not including a picture of this particular house in case anyone knows who lived there. I believe I heard they have since moved.
We dropped it off on a Friday and the following Monday afternoon, we hadn’t gone to pick up the toilet, the neighborhood is kind of far out of the way. Then my co-worker’s phone rings. She puts in on speaker as the woman kindly asks if we can go get the toilet and remove it from the yard. In the background you can hear the homeowner swearing. Something like, ‘they better get that mother fucking toilet out of my yard right now. Do they know where I live? Get that fucking thing gone. That fucking toilet has been there all weekend. We were fucking out of town. Are you talking to them? Are they headed to get the fucking toilet?’ We might have gotten a little scared and hopped in the car.
We flew over the mountain and headed into their neighborhood. It didn’t look like anyone was home so I opened my trunk, gabbed the toilet, and liquid ran down my leg. OMG! My first thoughts were he peed in the toilet. He is such a jerk that he peed in the toilet. ‘Smell it!’ I demanded to my co-worker. ‘Smell it and tell me if it is pee!’ All the while the construction workers are staring at us across the street. Very reluctantly she smelled my pants. ‘There’s no smell. I don’t smell anything.’ We opened the toilet, dumped out the rest of the water and noticed the water spots on the toilet. They have a sprinkler system. It must have just been water from that. Part of me still thinks it was pee. *Shutters* Pretty sure we heard the word ‘loco’ used by the construction workers across the street.
A few weeks later we received an apology letter and a donation of $100. Guess he realized he over reacted. I mean it was for a good cause and all in good fun. Some people need to figure out how to relax.
Don’t worry I have more crazy stories from this job to share later!