Picture this. It is about 9 AM. You already went to your safety meeting, prep'd the troops, dawned your ppe, filled out your safety reports, slapped on that stinky hard hat and go to work but oh boy. Something is amiss? That is right. That chalupa you had last night or the gas station burrito for breakfast aint sitting right. You gotta go. You gotta go now. The sorrow is already building and you haven't even opened the door.

You start walking towards it. They have many names. Porta lets, porta johns, pissers, crappers, dumpers, the names are literally as endless as the brands of the company who owns them. You go only because you have too. It is almost a punishment but no one else complains. They are all suffering so you do too.

As you approach you can smell it. That smell. It hits you ten yards out. As you get close it just gets worse. You open the door and that pungent stank nails you to the cross. You are committed. You have to go on. You go inside, carefully line the toilet with paper, making sure not a single piece of plastic is exposed while also making sure you have enough paper left to clean your arse. Not always available and you forgot your back up roll.

You reluctantly sit down, doing so out of pure necessity. and let it rip. The ton of junk you just added only makes it one more level worse for the next guy. The best part?

While sitting there taking a chit, you have the urinal right next to you. About 12 inches to your right, full of Tabaco and snuff like stuff so the piss is just condensed there and smelling really good.

You clean yourself, get up, get your hi-viz on, your helmet, and walk out pretending nothing happened. No one looks at you. They all know and rue the day the have to again, too.