Ever have one of those nights?
First, I had to card two black guys in a row who wanted the same basic booze, and neither of them had any ID on them. So, naturally, they both left in a huff. I remember thinking to myself, I don't think I'll be making it through this evening alive.
Then, this guy came in. There are some people who come in and you think, Hey, they look like they're nice. There are others where you think, What the hell is this guy on? This guy was definitely one of the latter. He was about 6'5", with a beer gut being held up by tight, tight blue swimming trunks hiked up to his armpits. Water shoes on his feet. Never seen this guy before. He proceeded to wander aimlessly around the store for twenty minutes, before I had a chance to speak with him.
"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"
"Yeah, I was looking for a Taylor Pink Catawba."
"Well, we don't have that particular brand, but the Pink Catawba is right here."
"No Taylor?"
"No, no. We normally do have Taylor, but this came in a little cheaper, so we got this instead."
"How much does it go for when you do have it?"
"Same price as this. $6.99."
"Okay, well where's your hard cider?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Hard cider, like in a four-pack."
"Well, we have some sparkling cider here..."
"No, I'm looking for the stuff with the alcohol already in it."
"Oh, well we don't have that, then."
At this point, I returned to the counter to dissuade the second gentlemen from buying any brandy without valid identification. The man continued his frantic search across the store, and I was starting to get annoyed. After about forty minutes, I lost track of him, and I had assumed he'd gone. But, to my surprise, I found him sitting in the waiting area reading a book about Bordentown we have for sale.
"Excuse me, you can't be reading that in here. We're not a library."
"Oh, I'm sorry." He continued reading.
"Umm, are you going to be purchasing anything?"
"Yes, I plan on it. You close at ten, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." He continued reading.
"Sir, that's forty-five minutes from now."
"Right."
"You can't just sit in here. How about you put the book down and buy whatever it is you're going to get."
"Yeah, I'll get to it." We stared at each other.
"Pssh, whatever."
I went back to my counter, from where I could see the guy get up and read while standing. I was mad. I mean really mad. Like teeth-grinding mad. Finally, five minutes later, he puts the book down, and he goes to get some single beers, which he hadn't looked at all night. That's what he apparently came in for the whole time, cause he knew right where they were without looking for them. He got one of each flavor of Zima and brought them to the counter.
"Well, it appears I've annoyed you somehow."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm just trying to keep people from loitering in my store. We get a lot of that."
"I wish you could've spoken to me more tactfully. I came in soaked. I wanted to cool off a bit in the air conditioning."
"Tactfully? Sir, you were in here for almost two hours, and you weren't buying anything. I was tactful with you earlier, but we're way beyond the limit for that."
"I understand about the loitering..."
"Well, obviously you don't, or you wouldn't be doing it, would you?"
He took his beer outside and let me know he "might be back after I test the new flavor." He had half an hour. I don't think he's going to make it home and back in that time. He didn't. He sat out on a concrete block on the curb and drank it there. What the shit is he doing? You can't drink on the street, let alone two blocks from the police station. What an asshole! I should call the cops. Whatever, they won't get here anytime soon. When he finally came back in, stomach full of 24 oz. of beer and nothing else, he got two more and promptly belched in my face and pretended like that and the earlier fiasco never happened. I was holding the baseball bat at the time. Maybe that had something to do with it.
I hope I never see that guy again.
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