Not My Job

We had a little incident at work today. I glanced down one of the aisles and could see something laying on the floor. It looked rather odd. My coworker Logan was on the other side of the counter, so I asked him to identify it. He walked over, bent a little lower to examine it and then jumped away. With a horrified expression on his face, he announced, "It's Poo!" To which I responded, "Poo? No way! No one poos in a store and just walks away." To which he said, "I promise you, it's a big piece of poo." I asked, "Did someone have a dog in here?" "No." he said, "This is people poo." "I'm not cleaning it up." I said, "I can't. I'm pregnant. Pregnant women aren't supposed to clean up poo." He said, "I'm not cleaning it up. I'm just the computer guy." At this point, customers had gathered round, like it was some kind of traffic accident. Which in a way it was. Laughing hysterically, I finally said, "But you're a boy and poos gross." Needless to say, with plastic gloves, gobs of paper towels and much gagging, he conceded. Thank you Logan and thank you baby. This will probably be the only time having a baby gets me OUT of cleaning up poo.