The Trash Can Flush Method
Dave wasn’t a plumber—he sold insurance, had a plunger, and a YouTube history. That was all he needed… until physics reminded him it doesn’t care about confidence.
There are two types of people in this world: those who call a professional when the toilet overflows, and those named Dave.
Dave was not a plumber. Dave sold insurance. But Dave had something far more dangerous than a license: a plunger and a YouTube history.
It started when our office toilet decided to stage a protest. Water was rising ominously, threatening to spill onto the floor. Panic set in. Then, Dave strode in, rolling up his sleeves like a superhero preparing for battle.
"I've got this," Dave declared, his chest puffed out with pride. "It's just physics. Basic fluid dynamics."
He didn't use the plunger. No, Dave said plungers were for amateurs. He had a better idea: the "Trash Can Flush Method."
His theory was that if he filled a massive trash can with water and poured it into the bowl all at once, the sheer force would blast the clog into the sewers of oblivion. It was a plan born of too much confidence and not enough common sense.
He stood on a step stool, holding a 5-gallon bucket of water like a Spartan holding a shield.
"Stand back, everyone. Humility is about to be defeated by genius."
He tipped the bucket.
For a split second, it worked. The water surged! The clog moved! Dave grinned triumphantly. But then, the laws of physics he so proudly cited turned against him. The pressure created a perfect seal, and the water—now mixed with things we won't describe—shot straight up into the air like a geyser.
Dave was baptized. Not in holy water, but in the murky depths of his own hubris.
He stood there, dripping, as the water slowly receded. His glasses were crooked, his tie was soaked, and a rogue piece of toilet paper was stuck to his shoulder like a sad, brown epaulette.
Silence filled the room.
Then, from the back of the crowd, someone whispered, "Maybe next time, just call a plumber, Dave."
Dave, humbled and soggy, simply nodded. "Yeah," he muttered, wringing out his socks. "Maybe next time."
Epilogue: Dave now keeps a laminated list titled Things Dave Will Not Attempt Without Certification, pinned beside the breakroom microwave. Item #1 is, unsurprisingly, Plumbing.
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