Ross - The poop diaries

2020 by Abby Ross

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

First digital version

This is a work of non-fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author s interviews with plumbers across North America. For anonymity purposes, some of the names, and the physical descriptions of homes and people are fictitious.

Print ISBN: 978-1-68433-426-1

PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING

www.blackrosewriting.com

Print edition produced in the United States of America

Thank you so much for checking out one of our Humor novels.

If you enjoy our book, please check out our recommended title for your next great read!

Parrot Talk by David B. Seaburn

a story of abandonment, addiction, finding oneself all mixed in with tear-jerking chapters next to laugh-out-loud chapters. Tiff & Rich

I dedicate this book to all the plumbers who took the time to share their stories with me. Thank you for supporting this project and for the hard work you do to give us life s essentials.

I also dedicate this book to my loving husband, Denis, and our two children, Felix and Heller. Thank you for bringing laughter, support, inspiration, and joy into my life every day.

Finally, thank you to my mom for always being my number one fan.

If I would be a young man again and had to decide how to make my living, I would not try to become a scientist or scholar or teacher. I would rather choose to be a plumber or a peddler in hope to find that modest degree of independence still available under present circumstances.

Albert Einstein,

published in Forbes.com in 2009

INTRODUCTION

One chilly, Wednesday evening in Chicago, I clogged our toilet. My husband suggested we wait until the morning to call a plumber; however, I knew I could not sleep without a working toilet. We moved into our house a few months prior, so we did not have a go-to plumber. After a brief online search, we found Jon. He showed up at 9 p.m. that night, cheery and unexpectedly chatty.

I embarrassingly lingered outside our bathroom door as Jon got to work. He rodded the toilet and convinced us to purchase a new one. The entire job took thirty minutes, yet Jon did not seem to want to leave. He leaned against our kitchen island, chatting away about anything and everything. He was such a nice guy. I did not want to push him out. It was also useful to have a plumber in my back pocket. After ten minutes of chatting, I embraced his extroverted personality and asked him to share his best plumbing stories. What came out of his mouth was so hilarious I felt compelled to write a book.

That is how The Poop Diaries was born. After interviewing Jon, I set out to find other plumbers. I asked each one about the most interesting (and sometimes craziest) people they have met, most memorable surprises they have found, and any other greatest hit stories that were disgusting, hilarious or scary.

You may assume this book is all about poop, and rightfully, so. When most people think about plumbers, including me, they envision poop. This book, however, is about poop and so much more. Dildos, snakes, rats, fake vaginas, hauntings, weapons, boobs, cheaters, shower obsessions, and drugs are only some examples of what these plumbers have encountered.

I hope you enjoy reading their diaries.

CHAPTER 1

JON

With thirty years of plumbing under my belt, I have seen it all.

I began working in plumbing when I was 13-years-old. A neighbor asked me to join him on jobs. Instead of money, he paid me with free hot dogs and fries, which for most teenagers, was better than money. I attended a few colleges but did not graduate. I am not that good looking, so modeling was off the table. I was in the Navy for five years and was a professional lifeguard, but neither of those jobs paid the bills. So, plumbing was my best option. It paid the bills and made me get my head out of my butt (no pun intended).

If you think plumbing is only about poop, you are wrong. I have seen people during their most vulnerable, naked (literally), and embarrassing moments. I have rescued people from showers, pulled snakes from pipes, and gone head to head with an army of rats. When I go on jobs, I skip peeling back the onion. From the rich to the poor, famous to the everyday Joe, black, white, Indian, Asian, every color and culture out there, I see people for who they really are, inside and out.

I am Jon, and these are my diaries.

THE COSMO MODEL

On a sunny day in Chicago, a woman called me.

My basement is covered in poop, she said. Please, can you come soon?

Sure. No problem, ma am. I will be right over, I replied.

Those kinds of jobs were run of the mill for me. I went to her house and knocked on the door.

Hi. I am Jon, I said.

Hi. I am Amy, she replied, opening the door and gesturing for me to come inside.

Whenever I meet a new customer, I like to make small talk to break the ice, especially because the situation tends to be personal.

So, what do you do for a living? I asked.

I used to be a model. Now, I am a mom, she said.

She must have repeated the model part at least five times during the following five minutes, telling me stories about her modeling days, etc. etc. etc.

I assumed the poop in her basement would be an easy problem to solve, like a backed-up toilet that overflowed, nothing I had not seen before.

I was wrong. It turned out, her sewer had been backed up for weeks, to the point where layers upon layers of feces were caked on the floor, walls, and everywhere else. And it was not all from humans. She had dogs, which she never let outside and cats that forgot how to use a litter box if there was one. Kids clothes were piled up everywhere, also covered in feces. She did not remove anything from the basement, allowing poop to cover it all, like chocolate frosting on a cake.

I spent hours on my hands and knees, scraping off the poop so I could access the sewer. She hovered over me, yapping and yapping, sharing more stories about her modeling days as if I gave a shit. Finally, I scraped away the poop, found the sewer and unclogged it. Trying to escape quickly, I found the closest table, hunkered down and wrote up the paperwork. My eyes remained focused on the paper, which I hoped would show her I did not want to talk anymore. Then, things got weird.

After filling everything out, I turned around to ask her to confirm the information on the bill was accurate. She was standing over me, stark naked. My eyeballs were almost touching her nipples. I froze, not sure how to proceed.

You may be thinking, C mon man! A former model is standing in front of you, naked! Do something! Seize the day!

Moments prior, I scraped layers of her shit off the floor. I imagined her naked body covered in hard, brown poop, like a statue that stunk.

She continued standing there, unbothered, waiting for me to confirm her information on the bill was accurate. A part of me wondered if she forgot she removed her clothes. A minute later, I snapped out of it.

Uh, hello? I said, gesturing my hands up and down to clearly show I was uncomfortable.