So my work partner and I were driving to a job when I started getting terrible, terrible cramps in my abdomen, you know the kind. My partner suggested heading back to the office and cancelling the appointment we were headed to. I gave him a blank stare.
"Stan", I said, "This lady has been without heat for several days now, she has kids for pitys sake. I refuse to keep her waiting any longer, it's the most I can do to soldier through a bit of pain."
Stan looked at me. "Sometimes I think you care too much, Bill, you're a good man. A good man."
On arriving at the clients house, we knocked and entered, the lady was already looking down her nose at us. I didn't help matters by tripping on the Waitrose bags left by the door (How was I meant to see them). She scoffed.
"My boiler is in my bedroom upstairs, I shall supervise you to make sure your perverse lower class nature doesn't take hold of your senses and lead to you snooping through my bloomer closet." Her words oozed with contempt.
We got to work, it was a tough problem, and it would have been more sensible to scrap the whole boiler, but that would cost the lady thousands, and gosh darnit, a little hard work to bring happiness to someone was worth it.
We were finishing up as the wrenching in my gut returned. This wasn't something I would be able to hold, as the realisation of what it was hit me. I asked her politely if I could please use her lavatory. She sneered.
"Why yes, if it is of absolute necessity that you use my water passing facility, then please make haste, workman" The scorn she poured onto that last word chilled me, and I didn't quite understand what she meant, but as I passed her I heard her mutter to herself "I'm using the term workman because I don't know what else to call you". This lady worried me alright.
On entering the bathroom I tried to be as quick as I could with my business, I was mortified at imposing like this, even if she was rude, and I was very embarrassed that I was taking so long. I heard creaking floorboards outside, which I can only assume was my partner and the client shifting uneasily. Then it hit me.
The smell. Oh no this is a nightmare. This smells really bad, I best try and sort this out. I looked to the window, and tried to open it but it was sealed shut, what kind of woman did that? I spied a magazine left by the bath, "Paranoia of the outside world weekly" That explained it. So what coudl I do next, I looked for Air freshener, but I couldn't find any anywhere. This room was sealed and airtight and there was nothing I could do. Maybe it would dissipate once I'd left the door open.
I sheepishly exited the bathroom, and the lady shoved past me immediately.
"OH YOU FOUL BEAST, THIS ROOM SMELLS! HOW DARE YOUR EXCREMENT LEAVE TRACES OF FOUL ODOUR IN THE AIR! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
She shoved us down the stairs and out of the door. She hadn't paid yet, but she threw several coins out after us. "IT'S MORE THAN YOU DESERVE FOUL WORKMEN! I USE THE TERM WORKMEN BECAUSE I CAN'T THINK OF WHAT ELSE TO CALL SUCH VILE THINGS!"
As we backed out of the driveway, both too terrified to go back and settle the bill, we spied her walking back into her living room and logging onto her computer. We drove back to the office in silence. It was the most embarrassing and terrifying experience of my life, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. As I sit here writing, tears streaming down my face, I can only hope that she kept my embarrassing personal problems to herself.