Trigger Warning: Poop

Robin finds hope in, well, a hopeless place.

Have you heard the one about what Southerners say instead of “once upon a time?” Instead, they say “y’all ain’t gonna believe this.” Robin Whetstone, who entertained us mightily over months of the pandemic with Red Ticket, her Moscow memoir, is back to tell us what happened when her septic tank backed up, and she doesn’t start it out this way, but y’all ain’t gonna believe this. It’s a happy story.

by Robin Whetstone

OK, hope is not lost. I just had a random interaction with a stranger that tickled me. Trigger warning: poop.

On Friday, the septic tank in our house, which has not been serviced since it was installed in 1945 and is apparently just a flour sack, or something, backed up. We've been unable to use the toilet since Friday and have been pooping in Kroger bags instead (except for a few of the more delicate among us, who a) are extremely uncomfortable right now and b) will not survive the zombie apocalypse).

Today -- praise God! -- the septic tank guy arrived, a very grizzled man from the country who appeared to be about 78 years old and was a no-nonsense type fellow. He took the top of the septic tank off and we stood and chatted while a septic underling vacuumed up our whole family's poo.

"Your drainage field is not working," he said. "It's not just full, which it is, but there's a problem with your line and your field. I'm going to do whatever I can to repair what's here, because if you have to get a whole new system, well..."

"Thanks," I said.

"Are you..." he said, and then hesitated. "Are you..."

"Are we poor?" I said. "Yes, absolutely, we are very poor. Look, there's tinfoil in one of our windows."

"Naw, I was gonna ask, are you old. Are you...60?"

"NO!" I shouted at him over the roar of the poop tube, "I AM NOT 60! I'm 50!"

"Are you a veteran? A school teacher?"

"Nope," I said.

"You gotta give me something, here," he said.

"Well," I said, perking up, "I'm a single mom. How about that? Also, I'm a God-fearing woman. Also, I'm nice to cats."

"Single mom," he said, "OK!"

"I want to ask you something," I said. "I used to be a waitress for many years, and even to this day, I can't eat in a restaurant and enjoy myself because I'm too aware of what's going on in the background. You know? Like how the restaurant works? Working in septic systems, does this ever happen to you? Do you find yourself, you know, using the bathroom and thinking, 'whoo, that's gonna cost me'?"

He was so surprised that he just stared at me in confusion for a second, and then he started laughing and laughing. "You know, I have to admit, I DO sometimes think along those lines. If I'm in a bathroom somewhere, instead of doing my business, I'm thinking, this set-up is going to cause problems."

"I knew it!" I said.

When he left, which he just did, he gave me a discount. I asked him if it was because I was a single mom, and he said, "Yeah, and because you made me laugh."

Even during a pandemic, there's a chance to connect, I guess. We all over here are going to poop it up as much as possible so our tank will fill up quickly and that nice, entertaining man can come back.

Robin Whetstone is a Georgia-based writer who previously serialized her memoir about living in Moscow in the early ‘90s. As we’ve seen from her earlier contributions to The Experiment, she has a remarkable comic voice, but what makes her memoir unique how it retains that voice while describing the peril she finds herself in. You can find the first chapter here.