Dear Diary, it's April 17th 2008...
So I'm having a fairly normal day at work, Starbucks on Commercial and 2nd. It's about 7:30pm and we're getting regular homeless, crack head creepos that we see on a daily basis. There's this one lady in particular who I've previously felt really bad for because of her consistently bruised face, scarred legs and lack of shoes. She comes in with a coffee that a customer bought for her to get some cream and sugar and drinks it and carries on out the store, like usual, no problems, easy as pie. And I carry on with my evening, scrubbing coffee stained urns and sweeping the pasrty case.
About fifteen minutes later a customer from one of the cafe tables comes up to me and says: "I normally wouldn't make a big deal about this except for that I have children with me, but there is a homeless lady outside the store with no pants or underwear on!" "Oh my God!" I exclaim in response and briskly walk over to the door to see exactly what's going on. Because as the shift on duty, it's obviously my bag of monkies to deal with. So I walk over to the door to see this lady, pants around her ankles (leather pants I might add) squatted against my store wall, ass in the air, with a big turd coming out of her ass and a puddle of urine beneath her feet. Shocked, mortified, disgusted and slightly jovial, I ran to the back room to get the cordless phone and the non-emergency police phone number, since I'm totally in too much shock to think of something on my own. On my way back out I can see she has pulled up her pants and is still kind of hanging around out front. I finally have gathered my thoughts a bit and realize I have to take charge of the situation because the police will be too late. I burst through the front door with absolutely no control of the volume of my voice and our eyes meet.
"You have to leave my store RIGHT this minute and never come back!" is all I can manage to get out of my mouth.
"WHAT?! It was just an accident... I had an accident," she replies.
With my finger pointing violently at her pile of excrement I shout "THAT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT! You need to get out of here right now and never come back! I'm calling the police and will ANY time you ever come here again!"
"Whatever, fuck you! It was an accident," she mumbles under her breath and stumbles away.
The rest is really kind of unimportant information. I called the police, they came and they had the city of Vancouver come take care of her caffeine and 18% coffee cream induced mess off our sidewalk.
What is the moral of the story here diary? Don't do drugs? Don't ever get into the customer service industry in East Vancouver? Don't have a 'paying customers only' policy for your bathroom? Who knows, but this is by far one of the funniest and WEIRDEST things that has EVER happened to me in my entire twenty three years of being on this earth. That is all!
Signed,
Christine 'pooper scooper' Kesler
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