Remembering a friend who didn't like her job interview

Years ago I had a friend who applied for a gardener's job at the local university.  At last, a call, an appointment, the interview.

Arriving on campus she discovered the convoluted parking restrictions, and so had to park a fair distance off and run through the campus lawns to make it on time.  Hustling into the building she spotted the office and was ushered instantly into the interviewers tiny cramped office.  As soon as the door shut, she was repulsed by oder.  The room reeked, and the lady scowled at her unpleasantly from the start.  My friend lost interest in the job and this women she faced within a few minutes, working for her, reporting to her in the stinking office she wedged herself into sounded like the worst job in the world.  How could the women live like this, didn't she ever bathe.  Within a few minutes it was over and she sadly walked out, a job she wanted of working outside on a beautiful campus, dead.  Back to the car.

Shut the car door, turn the key, fire up the radio and, wow, what the hell, that same stinking smell of shit.  Open the door and jump out, and there on the soul of her shoe, stuck into the tread and curled up on the sides, a champion size dog doo.  Somewhere in the lawn she raced over to that appointment the miasma had lay in wait for her

Stranger still, a couple of years later she got the job.  I guess no matter the offense, clearing the air helps.