Kevin Page: When you gotta go, you gotta go

The Pages took over an important job while a young man took a much-needed toilet break. Photo / 123rf

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Most of you I'm sure will have heard the complaints loud and clear from employers who say they can't get anybody to take on their work.

Well, I'm here to tell you that is not always the case.

The other night Mrs P and I went for a stroll around the streets of our fair town and came across a young man determined to do what he had to do, however demeaning or embarrassing, to make a buck.

Now, I think I should point out at this stage I am not intending to make fun of this chap.

He was out there in the gathering gloom having a go. And as far as I'm concerned he deserves all the plaudits that come his way.

I just thought the circumstances were somewhat amusing.

Here's what happened.

As we strolled we came across a car parked on the road verge and a young man in hi-vis attire sitting atop the bonnet.

Upon closer inspection it transpired the young man was eating a sandwich and, importantly, hydrating from a large bottle of water, while watching something on his cellphone.

To be perfectly honest it all looked a little weird being literally in the middle of suburbia on a Monday night, so Mrs P and I just nodded politely as we went by and carried on without looking back. As you do.

Some half an hour later we were on the return leg of our walk when the same young man came running up to us in a bit of an agitated state.

"Excuse me," he said, in something of a panic. "I don't suppose you know if there's a toilet around here do you?"

Sadly, there wasn't one within quick walking distance, and judging by the way he was shifting from one foot to the other and grimacing, it would have needed to be very close.

Nor was there a tree or bush where one could be discreet, at least certainly not one that wasn't in the middle of someone's front lawn.

But there was a toilet at the service station a mere kilometre down the road and I appraised him of this fact as he joined us for the short stroll to his car.

Naturally, I was inquisitive as to what he was doing. I mean you don't often see someone in our suburban streets in hi-vis gear - unless the couple on the corner are playing construction worker and admin chick again - so initially I thought he might be a volunteer marshal for some cycling event.

It turned out he was doing a very important job.

"I'm security for that new bit of concrete footpath over there," he said solemnly.

"Basically, I've just got to make sure that nobody stands on it while it's still wet."

I stifled a smirk and I have to admit I was embarrassed at myself.

Mrs P, who has known me for a reasonable amount of time, obviously sensed the giggle somewhere deep within me and shot me an admonishing "Don't You Dare" look.

I knew from experience that I should not have a laugh at this bloke's expense, so offered up the suggestion, while trying not to sound sarcastic, that he was doing "vital work for the community".

By this stage the poor fellow was, without beating around the bush, busting for a pee.

Luckily, one came to his rescue. A certain Mrs P, that is.

"Why don't you take your car down to the service station," she said with a huge dollop of sympathetic kindness.

"We will keep an eye on your concrete for you."

Our new friend didn't need a second invitation and sped off to the servo in a cloud of blue smoke.

This left Mrs P and I on patrol. Naturally, I felt we needed to adopt the correct demeanour and actually do that. Patrol the concrete that is. So we did.

Up and down we marched beside the 40m stretch of footpath feeling very important and practically daring somebody to walk on it or even worse, write "John was here 2022", that sort of thing.

Now that I think about it, I don't know what we would have done if some toerag, hell-bent on mischief, had shown up and started to desecrate the mix of mortar and cement.

I've gone off anything physical these days so that meant Mrs P would first into the breach as it were.

Actually, I fancied her chances of smoothing things over very quickly should the need arise.

Come to think of it, we'd probably end up hosting the would-be social miscreant for a cup of tea and a chat.

She'd probably even give them a hug and a biscuit - gluten free of course - before sending them on their way with a suggestion they come back and see us again soon.

Anyway.

After 10 minutes or so the young man returned looking significantly less bloated and without the pained expression.

He was hugely appreciative of our efforts and even said he'd put a word in with his boss if we were ever looking for employment.

And just to prove this was a young bloke with a sense of humour to go with his work ethic, he fired off a pearler of a retort when Mrs P asked him what security work he would be doing the next night.

"I'm probably going to watch some paint dry," he said with a grin.