Mr. AK-47 ambled into the store on Saturday morning sporting his cool sunglasses and his blatant psychosis. He stood in front of me, grinning. I stood there and stared at him, arranging my mouth into what I’m pretty sure was a very tight, very aloof, straight line. This was his first visit to our fine establishment since his loud reference the other day to automatic weapon usage as the appropriate response to life’s minor disappointments.
He was just grinning so …. irritatingly. He’s so sure that he is charming and “winning” and clever, when really he is a psychotic, annoying ass. And the more he thinks he’s charming, the more ENRAGED I become. Try as I might, I cannot help it. I felt my mouth line tighten.
See, I have ZERO tolerance for asses who actually think they’re charming. If you’re an ass and then ADMIT you’re an ass, that’s almost kind of charming. But if you’re an ass with NO self-awareness of your assiness, then there is no hope for you. I’m sorry. Jesus may love you and that’s what Jesus is for. BUT, Jesus was not the manager on duty right then.
I was.
Too bad for you, dude. Because sometimes, I have problems controlling my tongue, mmkay?
He just KEPT grinning. I found it intolerable, that GRIN. I wasn’t going to speak until he did. I was weighing my options. The most appealing option involved an AK-47.
Finally he said in this cutesy whisper, “I’m not really here, okay?”
“Oh. Okay.” I stood there for a second, then just took him at his word and turned away busying myself with … anything else, frankly. Several seconds ticked by. I turned back. Rats. There he was. My mouth was now so tight, it was starting to hurt.
MEANWHILE, HE WAS STILL GRINNING AND I JUST COULD NOT TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!
So ….
“Do you remember the other day when you came in and we didn’t have your favorite coffee and you made reference to bringing an AK-47 next time you came in?”
There was a customer behind him now. I did not care. He stopped grinning. Didn’t say anything. I was going to make him acknowledge it.
“So, do you remember that?”
“Uh, yeahh.”
“Well, I’m sure you were probably joking and all, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to joke about things like that anymore.”
“What?? I was only kidding.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure you thought you were, but people were a little …. freaked out by it.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. No, actually, I’m not. You know, it’s kind of like not talking about bombs in an airport. It’s probably not the best idea — these days — to come into a store and talk about using weapons. Some people don’t find that funny.”
“I can’t believe people freaked out about it. Jeez.”
I wanted to kill him. Seriously. I stared solidly into the dark of his sunglasses.
“Well, they did. And — ”
My voice changed and kinda scared me, actually. Because he wasn’t really accepting what I was saying and because he’d started grinning — SO irritatingly! — all over again.
“– I’m asking you as the manager on duty to make sure that doesn’t ever happen again.” Each word of those last four was its own sentence.
Grin gone.
“Um — okay.”
No apology, of course, because he’s charming, remember? Psychosis is always adorable.
He looked over my shoulder at the coffees we were brewing. Before he could spiral down into an all-out hissy, I said, “And we don’t have your coffee right now. I know that’s traumatic for you. What else can we get you?”
I actually said that. Because I was shaking with rage at this guy. Guess who’s gonna get shot first?
“Well,” he whined, “it IS traumatic. I’m in therapy, you know.”
Wow. Ya think??
Oh, tracey.
This is literally the most satisfying thing I have read in the past decade. I need to go read it again, because it is just that satisfying.
red — Hahahahaha! I am a girl with lines one must not cross. I think all my lines are entirely rational, of course.
My husband only hopes it will not get me killed someday.
“Jesus may love you and that’s what Jesus is for.”
I am SO stealing that line. That is the awesomest line I have heard all week.
Good smackdown on AK-47 boy. I congratulate you.
and seriously – what kind of a dink thinks it’s traumatic when they don’t have the kind of frickin’ COFFEE he likes? I mean, anyone in any branch of the military could show him traumatic. Someone who has been a refugee from their own country could show him traumatic. Any firefighter or cop could show him traumatic. Not having the coffee you like right on tap is NOT traumatic.
dude needs a perspective check, seriously.
ricki —
/Not having the coffee you like right on tap is NOT traumatic./
It is if you’re INSANE. I literally think he’s unbalanced, not in an eccentric, Kleenex-box-slippers kind of way, but in a creepy, body-parts-in-the-freezer kind of way.
I’m not sure he’s capable of perspective.
You are so good! I tend to hold my tongue because I’m afraid of what I’m capable of saying to someone. Not you – you rock! By the way, LOVE the Jesus line! I’ll have to borrow that too!
There’s the famous scene in “Airplane II” when the stewardess explains, calmly and politely, that their shuttle to the moon is actually heading toward the sun, and that every last mother’s child on board will die a horrible death.
Everyone takes this well – oh, of course, if we hit the sun we’ll all die, makes sense – and then one man pipes up, “Hey, are you telling us everything?”
Stewardess: “Well, we’re also out of coffee.”
And the passengers riot.
It’s terribly sad that his reality consists of reacting that way among actual human beings in everyday situations. It’s Chesterton’s comment all over again, that the insane man has an infinite, circular world – but it is infinitely small. Pray God he gets out into the open air and doesn’t hurt anyone.
PS – all that didn’t keep me from laughing when he went all emo. “I AM in therapy…” BWAHAHAHAHA! And you were beautiful in that whole exchange. We’re under orders to love our enemies, but that doesn’t mean that we have to think well of everything they do and say. (One might make a good case that you served him by correcting him, so that he has the beginning of the notion – however faint – that it was ridiculous for him to overreact, and to learn proportion. And to stop being so durn creepy.)
I’m so curious to see if he’ll come in again.
If I were the owner of the place?
I’d ban his fanny – so he couldn’t come in again. I can’t deal with people who use any fragility they may have as a stick to hit other people with. And there’s the AK-47 thing.
Nightfly — Hahahahaha! I remember that!
red — Oh, yes. He’s been back ….
Wow Tracey, good job!
But, Argh! He’s persona non grata and he still keeps coming back.
Look, if he’s unbalanced, he’ll probably move within six months.
I think you should put up a sign, tracey, something like:
“We reserve the right to refuse to serve anyone who is lacking in basic self-awareness skills.”
heh heh
ah, but red, the problem is, the ones who need to pay the most attention to that sign are the ones who will think it applies to them the least.
I’m beginning to wonder if one of those big inflatable rubber clown-hammers isn’t the answer. (they look like giant cartoon rubber mallets but they don’t hurt when you hit someone with them. And some of them make a squeaky noise when you hit someone with them).
I have a few not-fully-aware-the-universe-does-not-revolve-around-them students this semester, and I’m tempted to get one of those and beat them about the head with it when they ask me to hand in their homework late because they ‘forgot’ to do it or because they had “more important stuff” (um…I give you a week to do the homework, ok? I fail to believe you have so much ‘more important’ stuff in the course of a week that you cannot find fifteen minutes to do a stinkin’ homework…)
just using the phrase “beat them about the head with an inflatable clown rubber mallet” makes me feel better.
I just think it would be funny.
It’s like the No Shoes No Service sign – only it could be Blatant Psychosis – No Service!
“I’m in therapy. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! OF COURSE YOU ARE, YOU POMPOUS ASS-HAT!
Classic.
Is there a “Naked Tracey’s School of Tongue Sharpening” in the works? *Wait, that didn’t sound right…*
Everyone said it already! Well done, Tracey!
You could combine ricki’s and Sheila’s idea:
“No Huge Red Floppy Shoes, No Service”
red — “Blatant Psychosis — No Service.” YES!!!
WG — School of Tongue Sharpening? I only wish it could be taught.
Sadly, it just crops up …. like some withered weed … on a parch-ed soul ….. 😉
Beautifully handled…. and I love the Jesus line as well. And what kind of jerk doesn’t take off his sunglasses inside? The only person on the planet allowed a pass on this is Horatio Caine on CSI Miami, and he’s fictional.
now. i hate to be the one, but since no one else said it, and since i am the gun nut here. please do carry something bigger than a .22. At least .380, preferably 9mm. And practice at the range. This guy is definitely unstable, and even though he’s in therapy, the guy has been smacked down by you in front of another customer and still comes back to your Beanhouse instead of finding another random place to go. Yes, he doesn’t actually own an AK, but you need to be careful and protect yourself.
sarahk — You are just adorable, I’m serious. You know, I don’t have anything bigger than a .22. My husband DOES, but I literally cannot manage those bigger guns. My hands are small.
Also, sadly, don’t think I can really carry one at work …
Mmmmm… guns….
hmm… my ring finger size is a 3 and 3/4. so believe me. get yourself a 9mm Walther P99. very compact and comfy for the tiny hands, and the kick is minimal and not harsh with the composite. i LOVE mine, it’s wonderful to fire. i have the tiniest hands.
can they really deny your right to carry at work? well… they wouldn’t know unless you had to protect yourself, and then you’d rather get fired than the alternative. ::taps toes:: man, i’m pushy. next step. get out of cali. 😀
sarahk — Will you please be my bodyguard?