If I were an investigative journalist, I would have used a rake.

I hope it wasn't reverse psychology, because I'll be peeved if the maintenance manager, whom I will call Froggy, fully intended me to clear out the drain for him. He claims it has "always" been stopped up and that I'd "never" get it cleared out. Hence why yesterday morning found me shoveling muck.

After an hour of shoveling and then pumping water, I found the drain's outlet and started digging into it, but I never had a chance to break through the clog because, after lunch, I spotted an artesian well coming out of the hillside next to the dining hall, where there had never been one before. Yes, it was definitely one of those days.

An employee and I dug and found a shattered PVC pipe whose pieces indicated it was at least 6" diameter, far too large to be an irrigation pipe -- and the employee pointed out that there was no irrigation at that site anyway. I couldn't convince Froggy of that. Even after he sent over the plumber, after the plumber shut off the closest irrigation backflow preventer "just in case", after the plumber got the backhoe to try to find the other end of the broken pipe (which we hadn't found by quitting time), and even after Froggy himself finally came to the site to see for himself and realize the pipe was supposed to connect up to the storm drain over yonder, he kept using the word "irrigation" and wondering what I was going to do.

I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'll continue helping. I'll continue learning. I'll make suggestions that logic (in place of any relevant experience) brings to my mind. I'll continue resisting Froggy's insistence that anything he doesn't want to do is my crew's responsibility. That's what I'll do.