Oh, crap.

Just now, I opened the door to the ladies room here at work and was greeted with the most wretched smell known to the earth. It was what evil smells like, I'm sure. Without turning on the light or crossing the restroom to the toilet, I could see there was a mess of toilet seat covers and wads of paper stuffed into the bowl.

"This can't be good," I thought. "And I really have to go."

I took a step backward and the door slammed shut, trapping the evil-smell inside.

I looked down. There was a schmear of brown on the floor. A few inches away... another schmear. And another... and another. A trail of brown dotted the walkway to the bathroom door.

So. Gross. I understood now. Someone wasn't being inconsiderate. They had legitimately lost control of their bowels a few steps from the bathroom. (No excuse for not cleaning up the toilet, though.)

There were customers hanging around the counter, so I tried to be as discreet as possible. I wet a mess of paper towels, dropped them over the first little pile and rubbed my foot back and forth. Not great results, but it would keep the customer from stepping in the little piles of crap until it could be cleaned thoroughly.

I did the next one... and the next one... After about 2 feet, I realized there was no end to the poop-trail. Someone had come in the front door, poop dripping from their shorts, walked ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ENTIRE SHOWROOM FLOOR, and exploded into the toilet. And then left the mess for someone else to clean.

Well, crap. There's no way in heck that someone is going to be me.

I was tempted to page over the intercom, "Wet clean up on aisle... well, aisle everywhere."

Someone with a lower propensity to vomit is cleaning it as we speak.