Once every two weeks, a guy comes to the bridge to pump out our septic tank. I hope he’s paid well. That’s one disgusting job.
No matter how evolved we would like to think we are, there’s no getting around the fact that we are biological beings, and somewhere, every minute of the day, some poor schmuck is dealing with our feces. Think about it. Every time you flush the toilet, you are propping up a huge sector of the economy. Plumbers, treatment plant operators, septic tank guys, the entire port-a-potty industry, toilet paper, cleaning supply and bathroom fixture companies, those charged with monitoring and cleaning up our polluted rivers and streams, medical personnel who treat all the various diseases brought on by bad sanitation, even the bad comedians who thrive on poop jokes.
Everybody’s got to make a living. But I think I’d have a hard time finding job satisfaction as a septic tank guy. Granted, you’re providing a very valuable and important service, but come on. Imagine having to spend your every working moment dealing with other people’s sh**.
Well, come to think of it, a lot of us do that anyway, don’t we?
The View from a Drawbridge 