A chubby little girl about 8 or 9 years old came into the store with her dad. As I was standing at the register I heard someone saying, “Hello?”, and then a few seconds later, again I heard, “Hello?” This continued for a good minute and a half. I looked over and the little girl was standing in front of the wall of house phones, picking up each handset one at a time and saying, “Hello?” After picking up about six of the phones, she said, “Hello? Oh, hi.” Umm…who the hell was she talking to? LOL
The other customer of the week was a nightmare customer. He came in the door wobbling around, barely able to stand. He then carefully placed a large black trash bag by the door. As he walked toward the counter he was trying to tell me what he needed, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Once he got to the counter I understood why. He was drunker than a teenage girl on spring break. I could smell the alcohol from five feet away.
I asked him again what he needed, which for me means me saying, “I’m sorry…what???” What I really wanted to say was, “What the fuck do you want you drunk old man?” However, my customer service training forbids it. Instead I patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts and words, and to dig something out of his pocket. As he fumbled around I began to get nervous and backed up a bit. He must have noticed because he said, “Don’t be scared.” That right there…made me scared.
He kept saying something about needing a charger. I thought he meant he needed a charger for his phone, especially when he pulled out what appeared to be a hot pink old-school type cell phone. I was wrong, very, very wrong.
He set it on the counter and I picked it up to see what kind of charger it needed. It didn’t look like any phone charger I had ever seen, so I told him that we would probably have to order a charger for that phone. Then he said, “Oh, that ain’t no phone. That there’s a taser.” Oh, my, God. I immediately pushed it away from me (on second thought that probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do). He picked it up and said, “Yeah, this thing has one million volts. I’ll show you.” I quickly said, “No, you don’t have to do that! I believe you!”
My pleas did nothing to stop him from demonstrating the awesome power of the pink taser. He discharged the damn thing within three feet of me. I jumped back reaching toward the aluminum baseball bat that sits behind the counter. Fortunately I didn’t have to use it. I kind of blacked out after he set it off, and I only remember trying to not piss my pants while simultaneously trying to get him the hell out of the store. I felt like I was having a heart attack and a panic attack all at the same time.
Once I had managed to order his charger and collect his money and get him the hell out, then I was able to breathe again, but barely.
The next day I told Bossman about the incident and he said that he was going to update the security system and put in a panic button for me. Well, it’s about damn time, I thought. Too bad it took me nearly getting tased for him to do it though. It’s times like that when I really miss my Saturday night special. Oh well.
And one last thing. Unfortunately Hamster, my co-worker of nearly a year now has moved on to another better paying, more convenient job. God bless him. Now I have no one to accuse me of looking at porn on the company laptop, or ask me who I’m dating this week, or to talk to about customers once they leave the store. So needless to say, he will be greatly missed. In honor of Hamster, I’m dedicating this post to him, even though he’ll never know it.
Happy humping & stay safe!