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??
