My boss owned some agricultural land and I managed that in addition to his commercial properties.  The land was about 40 acres of farmed row crops along side a separate acre with a house and barn on it.  The farmland was leased to a big  farming operation and my mother and grandparents were living in the house on the property.  A house that had two perfectly fine functioning bathrooms, I should mention.

It came to my attention that there was an issue with the outdoor toilets that the farming company had provided for their workers.  In response to this problem a few of the more industrious (and shameless!) workers had turned sections of concrete drain pipes up on end behind the barn and were using them as toilets.  The situation was just as disgusting as you can imagine.  I called the farm manager and told him about what was going on.

He called me back later in the day after he went to check things out himself.

Farm Manager:  I went out to see those pipes set up behind the barn and it’s just like you said. It’s a real disgusting mess.

Me:  So what’s your plan for cleaning up the area?

Farm Manager:  Me?  Why do you think I should clean it up?  My workers didn’t make that mess!

Me:  Of course they did!  Who else would be out there doing that?

Farm Manager:  It’s the tenants you have living in the house there that are doing it.  They probably don’t have working toilets or the water is shut off or something so they’re going out and using the pipes behind the barn.

Me:  You’re telling me that the people who live in the house are crapping behind the barn?  Not your workers who are out there all day without any nearby toilets?

Farm Manager:  Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.  You have to be careful who you rent to.  You’ll get a lot of drug addicts and weirdos out there.  Looks like you have some real sickos living there now.

Me:  My mother and my grandparents live in that house.

Farm Manager:  What?

Me:  Are you telling me my little grandma went and set up a 200 pound concrete pipe behind the barn so she could poop in it?  Is that what you’re telling me?

Farm Manager:  What?

Me (speaking louder and slower):  My mother and my grandparents live in that house.  Are you telling me that my own mother is going out in broad daylight and taking a …

Farm Manager:   Oh god.  Nevermind, nevermind.  I’ll take care of it.

Me:  Oh.  How nice.  I’m so glad to hear that.

My grandfather said he would have needed a stepladder to sit on the top of those pipes but he was flattered that the farm manager thought my grandmother was spry enough to handle it. My grandmother didn’t think it was very complimentary.