L'esprit D'escalier
There's this guy, you see. White-haired fellow, possibly in his sixties. He comes into my store every once in awhile to sell back used DVDs and, well, he's kind of a jerk. Not outright screaming assholery that most of our more uncouth clientele resort to when unsatisfied. More a quiet, seething animosity from this guy for absolutely no reason at all. Every single time I have ever had to deal with him, he is angry, rude, and overall Just Not Happy With Life. And last night was no exception. One of my last customers of the evening, I groaned to myself seeing him standing impatiently at the register where I do my buybacks, already griping to the boy checking the quality of the disks before I got there. Only selling back The Far Country and Duel In The Sun, instead of arguing he just gave me his best long, poisonously whithering glare before he sighed dramatically and agreed to the amount. He took the money and left, and I went about my evening getting ready to close up shop for the night.
Normally I get over our usual exchanges, but last night left me angrier than normal. I have done nothing but be the perfect sales clerk to this gentleman in every single exchange, and he never fails to treat me as if the satisfaction he demands will never be met by the likes of someone like me. I was steamed all night long, even later at home. And even the next morning. I almost felt like calling out sick today just because I didn't feel like dealing with him again if he so happened to pop back in the next night. Normally I don't get that worked up over those kinds of customers. But last night my defenses were down, and I had had it. But coming to my senses I went into work anyway. Not like I have sick leave anymore like I used to.
Well, last night right as we were closing, I found a strange knife lying on the counter next to the register where I do my buybacks. I had never seen anything quite like it. I showed it to one of the guys I work with, and he had never seen anything like it either. It resembled a scalpel, sort of, with a long slim handle and short blade, like the kind you would use for small, precision cutting. Except that it was retractable, like a switchblade. And really, really amazingly sharp. The kind of sharp where I brushed the flat of my thumb gingerly down the flat of the blade to the edge and pulled back, as if the sharpness was giving off actual heat. The guy I work with took the blade and said he would show it to Nate in the morning when he arrived, and I thought nothing else of it for the rest of the night. We sometimes find tiny cutting items in our store from where thieves try to break the seals of our DVDs, though admittedly nothing like this had ever crossed our collective paths.
This morning apparently Nate called the police and gave them the knife to inspect. They took it back to the station, and around 9:30am that very same customer that I had last night called and angrily demanded the "letter opener" that he had accidentally left in our store last night. Needless to say the guy was livid that Nate turned it over to the police, whom had told us that even they had no idea what kind of knife that was, and it even scared them just looking at it. I spoke to the police officer about our encounter last night, and the policeman said that he was going to make the guy come directly to the police station to pick up his knife. Perhaps to check the guy out themselves, but as far as I was concerned all I cared about was not having to see that man again first thing in the morning, if at all anymore, since Nate wants to ban him from the store. "He could have pulled that knife on you, Melissa!" Nate exclaimed. " I won't have crazy people pulling out dangerous weapons at an open cash register!" Even Tracy was telling me that why on earth would a guy carry a razor sharp "letter opener" wherever he went, and pull it out while we were doing a transaction. Did somebody walk up at that moment and maybe change his mind about...
No, honestly, I don't really think this guy would have tried to rob or hurt me. As mean as he is, he doesn't strike me as the killin' type. Of course it's usually those types that get the most killin' in, aren't they? And really now, who's going to get into a scrap over the monetary worth of flippin' Duel In The Sun? Jesus Christ, Jennifer Jones reeked in that picture, yo. Among other things.
Anyway, if anything good comes out of my last few wretched months with this company, it would be never having to see Crazy It's-Only-A-Letter-Opener Guy back in the store again. Sure dude, and my nametag laminate gets me backstage at all the swinging' Fishbone concerts. Which , by the way, I ALSO MISSED AT THE JEWISH MOTHER LAST NIGHT. Yeah yeah, the evening pretty much sucked all the way around.
Normally I get over our usual exchanges, but last night left me angrier than normal. I have done nothing but be the perfect sales clerk to this gentleman in every single exchange, and he never fails to treat me as if the satisfaction he demands will never be met by the likes of someone like me. I was steamed all night long, even later at home. And even the next morning. I almost felt like calling out sick today just because I didn't feel like dealing with him again if he so happened to pop back in the next night. Normally I don't get that worked up over those kinds of customers. But last night my defenses were down, and I had had it. But coming to my senses I went into work anyway. Not like I have sick leave anymore like I used to.
Well, last night right as we were closing, I found a strange knife lying on the counter next to the register where I do my buybacks. I had never seen anything quite like it. I showed it to one of the guys I work with, and he had never seen anything like it either. It resembled a scalpel, sort of, with a long slim handle and short blade, like the kind you would use for small, precision cutting. Except that it was retractable, like a switchblade. And really, really amazingly sharp. The kind of sharp where I brushed the flat of my thumb gingerly down the flat of the blade to the edge and pulled back, as if the sharpness was giving off actual heat. The guy I work with took the blade and said he would show it to Nate in the morning when he arrived, and I thought nothing else of it for the rest of the night. We sometimes find tiny cutting items in our store from where thieves try to break the seals of our DVDs, though admittedly nothing like this had ever crossed our collective paths.
This morning apparently Nate called the police and gave them the knife to inspect. They took it back to the station, and around 9:30am that very same customer that I had last night called and angrily demanded the "letter opener" that he had accidentally left in our store last night. Needless to say the guy was livid that Nate turned it over to the police, whom had told us that even they had no idea what kind of knife that was, and it even scared them just looking at it. I spoke to the police officer about our encounter last night, and the policeman said that he was going to make the guy come directly to the police station to pick up his knife. Perhaps to check the guy out themselves, but as far as I was concerned all I cared about was not having to see that man again first thing in the morning, if at all anymore, since Nate wants to ban him from the store. "He could have pulled that knife on you, Melissa!" Nate exclaimed. " I won't have crazy people pulling out dangerous weapons at an open cash register!" Even Tracy was telling me that why on earth would a guy carry a razor sharp "letter opener" wherever he went, and pull it out while we were doing a transaction. Did somebody walk up at that moment and maybe change his mind about...
No, honestly, I don't really think this guy would have tried to rob or hurt me. As mean as he is, he doesn't strike me as the killin' type. Of course it's usually those types that get the most killin' in, aren't they? And really now, who's going to get into a scrap over the monetary worth of flippin' Duel In The Sun? Jesus Christ, Jennifer Jones reeked in that picture, yo. Among other things.
Anyway, if anything good comes out of my last few wretched months with this company, it would be never having to see Crazy It's-Only-A-Letter-Opener Guy back in the store again. Sure dude, and my nametag laminate gets me backstage at all the swinging' Fishbone concerts. Which , by the way, I ALSO MISSED AT THE JEWISH MOTHER LAST NIGHT. Yeah yeah, the evening pretty much sucked all the way around.
posted by Melissa at 11:48 PM
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