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Gaffer Variety:
One Man's Crap 029:
By Willie Gaffer:
February 27, 2006:
Written on January 31, 2006. Yesterday the media warned us about the upcoming state of the union address which the president will give tonight and our septic tank backed up. I suspect it was in fearful anticipation. To much crap at once! Anyway, we had to get our septic tank pumped out. For you city cliff-dwellers, that probably sounds like some foreign language phrase. A quick primmer may be in order.
Cities have many built in services. One of the services most folks don't even think about, in fact prefer not to think about, is the sewage service. We don't want to think about what has to happen for us to have a warm place to crap. When most folks flush, the stuff disappears and they promptly forget about it. The fact is, the stuff does not disappear. In the ordinary city it goes through a network of pipes to end up at a sewage treatment plant of some kind. There, it is theoretically treated to make it environmentally safe. Sometimes that is really what happens. Too often, the treatment plant is obsolete and is overwhelmed by the volume of stuff. Then the raw stuff gets dumped, as it is, into America's rivers and lakes. The government, of course, looks the other way.
With us private citizen folks who live in rural areas the government is not so forgiving. We must comply with the law. We must think about what has to happen for us to have a warm place to crap. We have to deal with our own crap in a responsible manner. To do that, we must have our own sewage treatment system. Where we live, this treatment system is specified by the county department of health. It must pass an inspection before the home can be occupied. We did that many years ago when we built this home we now live in.
Without getting unnecessarily complicated, the sewage treatment system consists of a septic tank and a seepage field. The septic tank is just a large underground container, usually concrete, where the crap gradually decomposes. The household sewer is connected to and empties into this tank. Recent advances in technology and rules now allows for plastic septic tanks in addition to concrete. The seepage field is an underground network of porous pipes which are connected to the output end of the septic tank. As the crap decomposes it liquefies and the overflow goes into the seepage field where it percolates into the ground. All of this is specified so as to not impact the environment.
The facts are, these septic tanks tend to fill up and must be periodically empted so as to not overflow or back up into the house. This need has spawned an entire industry of septic system services. Look in your phone book under sewer and septic. In general these people install and clean septic tanks. In this case, the cliché is almost literally true. "One man's crap is another man's bread and butter." Cleaning means pumping the crap out of the tank and hauling it away. I try not to think about what they do with it afterward.
So, the outfit I called was just a service listed in our local phone book. They had a local address and that made them my neighbors of sorts. Whenever I do need services of this type, I tend to use people I can find easily if things don't go right. Well, I called this guy and explained the problem and he agreed, my tank needed to be pumped out. After a discussion, I realized that he expected me to dig down and uncover the septic tank lid. I explained I was 75 years old and he answered that he was 78 and was not about to do the digging.
Normally, I will not deal with an outfit that does only part of the job. I don't like acting as a subcontractor for a contractor. In this case, my situation was a bit dire so I took a deep- breath and told hm I would call as soon as I had the lid exposed. Then I bowed my head, put on my boots and went out to grab a shovel. I knew it was going to be a Darvocet night. Mrs. Gaffer came out too and did what she could to help. It took three hours of steady digging, but we got the lid off and I saw what I already knew. That sucker was full up!
I quickly called the guy back and got lucky. He was at a place nearby where his customer had not got the lid uncovered in time. He and his assistants came on over to my house instead. When they got there, I could not believe what I saw. There were three guys, all older than me, who were going to pump out my septic tank. It was the geriatric set in action. My biggest fear was that one of these fumbling old farts would lose his balance and fall into the tank. What then? He would probably die before 911 could arrive. One interesting thing about septic tanks is, there is no air in them. It is displace by the gases generated in decomposition.
Well, my fears were not realized. These guys just went about their business cleaning my tank. I watched from a widow and noticed that only one of them worked at a time. They were not wearing themselves out, but they were fun to watch. No one could say these guys don't know crap. Clearly they know crap. I never saw so many people take such a sincere interest in crap since the last state of the union address. They looked for all the world like three senior senators in caucus. They stood above the hole with arms folded, hands on elbows nodding wisely, smiling, chuckling, and sometimes pointing out a particularly interesting one. I couldn't help but think of Levin, Kennedy, and McCain.
The job got done and we paid these guys off. I suppose they went home and rested after a job well done. For myself, I was in pain city from the digging. I took a Davoceet and cried myself to sleep. Mrs. Gaffer said I only cried a few times during the night and she gave me another Darvocet when I did. I was not bad the day after. I should be able to walk again in a few days. Then I will go and buy the stuff I would already have had, if I had known.
The septic tank caucus chairman chided me for not having the tank cleaned more often. I replied that was easy for him to say since he was not the guy who had to dig the hole. It was then he laughed at me as he explained that no one had to dig. He told me it is possible to put a chimney on my septic tank to bring the lid up above ground. He even told me where to buy the stuff and gave me the proper names so I would not embarrass myself. You know how that goes. You go in this special hardware place and tell the guy, "I need a whatchamacallit to put on my septic tank so the lid will stick up."
The guy knows very well what you need, but he looks at another
clerk with a grin and says, "Hey Louie, do we have any of
those special whatchamacallits?" Louie chortles a bit, hardly
containing his contempt. And so it goes. Eventually you get what
you need along with a good helping of humble pie. I'm very grateful
that the chairman gave me the proper names. I'll go shopping as
soon ans I can. Next time, there will be no digging. I'll just
call the three senior senators if they have not gone on to Washington.
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