I had a painter that worked for me for a few years. Good guy. Had a few screws loose, though. Too much lacquer I suppose. Before he came to work for me, he had his own painting business. He told me a story about painting the exterior of this really nice craftsman style two-story house in Pemberton Heights. Lots of sanding. Hand painted. He said they were there for weeks. He had a group of Honduran brothers working for him. Anyhow, he said that one of the Hondurans had bubble guts and couldn't make it to the convenience store. Homeowners weren't home, so he dropped trou in the far corner of the backyard and sprayed some party mud. Crisis averted and he went back to work. Evidently, the same dude's up at the very top of the roof sanding the chimney and sees the family dog come sauntering out of the doggie door into the backyard. The dog's sniffing around in the same back corner and ends up rolling around in the Honduran dude's mud pile. Before the guy can slide over the roof and get back down the ladder, the dog's already back through the doggie door and in the house and doing the dog move where they rub up against the wall and the carpet and the furniture. Except the dog's covered in human shit. And smearing it all over the white walls, cream colored carpet and antique furniture. And the door's locked. And the Honduran dude is freaking out. He calls his boss (the guy telling me this story), and he hauls ass over there. Long story longer, he has to wait for the homeowners to get home and explain to them what happened. He said they were surprisingly cool, but he paid to have everything downstairs in the house steam cleaned.
Not my story, so no clue how true or accurate it is. But, it's pretty damn funny. And, from this day forward, no matter how small the job, I ALWAYS put a line item in the budget for a portable toilet.