Thursday, April 2, 2009

"I just got out of jail" is a red flag


In an already interesting night when paramedics told me about a guy who decided he had to paint his house with his own blood, (he barely survived as I understand), several college age men in the store and this "Bad Boy" attitude I've started to take on working graveyard shifts, I discovered that I'm getting a little more... ballsy?

The man who stumbled in the door was tall and gaunt, spindly and quite likely drunk. His unkempt gray hair was long and was matted to his worn leather coat with rain.

"I JUST GOT OUT OF JAIL." he announced, and stood right by the ice cream cooler and started looking into the clerks-only area. "I did my six hours," he bragged. I assume he was thrown in the drunk tank early in the evening, since it was only a little before midnight. He reached over the displays and started to try to take a lighter.

"Hey. Get out of that. That's for me to mess with. Get in line like everyone else." I growled. With an opening line like his I have no patience for such lame fuckery. He looked at me as though he didn't expect to be told not to try to steal something and wandered back to my customers, all huddled around a single cooler door where he proceeded to try to bum money and cigarettes off them. I considered telling him not to, but assumed he'd give me a better reason to kick him out.

Hey how's it going, you can call me Nostradamus. Another accurate prediction.

He returned to that same spot and started watching me work the register as the other customers started making their purchases. One man paid with a $20 bill, and I started to put it in the auto-safe.

"Oh you got a twenty-" the recently released man said, and he started to reach over the displays again in an attempt to take it from me.

Before I had the opportunity to consider the possible repercussions and hazards to my personal well being this course of action could result in, calmly slapped his hand with a loud "NO." The sound of my hand striking his was sharp and loud and pierced the conversation my customers were having easily.

I went back to taking care of the customers but looked over my shoulder at the man who was completely taken aback that someone like myself would strike him, even just a little swat like that.

"Yeah get out, man." I said.

He rolled his eyes, tilted his head back and left with a "yeah, yeah..."

The customers never even noticed this little altercation, thus constituting a minor victory on my part.

Ten minutes later I realized my finger tips were still a little numb. I guess I slapped his hand pretty damn hard.