So I work with a lady of almost 80. I'll call her Jane. She is hilarious- drove from Boston to California by herself in her mid 70s, and will tell anyone who listens about all the crazy neighbors she has. She lives in a rough neighborhood and is every bit as tough as the young drug addicts and gangbangers out there- and has run a few off her property. She has quite a few fans among the customers- one even regularly brings her cookies when she comes to do her shopping! Everyone likes Jane, and she's always got something funny to say. So, the other day, she was walking out to her car and was waved over by a gentleman idling his car in the handicapped parking space (hereafter known as Idling Guy, or IG). I was near the doors and stepped out to observe the conversation out of concern for her safety, despite her tough-as-nailsness.
Jane: "Yeh?"
IG: "Hey, you work in that store there?" (IG indicates the chain pet store when Jane works as a vendor rep)
Jane: "I work in there, not for them."
IG: "I called ahead for them to set aside the largest cat litter box for me. If I give you the money, could you go in and buy it for me?"
Jane: "Well, sure, I guess."
Jane walks in and asks a manager if anyone has set aside a cat litterbox for this man. I take the opportunity to get a closer look at him, remembering the stories about Ted Bundy using a faked disability to get help from women at stores and then luring them into his car. The guy just kind of set off some alarm bells. I didn't want him to know I was checking out his car, but I got the license plate (I won't put it here, but it was a really strange vanity plate with a word that had no meaning to me). It wasn't a handicapped plate, but I didn't get close enough to check for a tag on the rearview mirror. It did not look like the car had hand controls or any other adaptations indicating the man could not walk, and I saw him move his legs a couple of times. I figured give him the benefit of the doubt and presume that he has a disability that severely limits his mobility but allows him to operate a car, but I kept an eye on him while Jane returned with the catbox.
Jane: "Here, I wanna make sure this is what you want."
IG: "No, no, I want a deeper one, with a little cutout in the front for the cut to step in easier- that's what they gave me last time."
You mean he makes a HABIT of calling ahead for enormous catboxes? How many cats does he HAVE?
Jane: "All right, I'll see what they've got."
Jane returns to the store, spends a few minutes in side, and comes back out with a stack of three different large litterboxes of various styles.
Jane: "See the one you want?"
IG: "Yes, that middle one will do fine."
Jane: "All right."
Jane goes back in and pays for the item with the $50.00 bill the man handed her (guess she looks trustworthy?) and comes back out again with the catbox.
IG: "Thanks."
Jane: "Here's your change."
IG: "Please, take five dollars for a tip."
Jane: "Naw. I get paid to work here."
IG: "I insist- as a gentleman, my honor prompts me to tip you for your work above and beyond your job description."
Jane: "No, thanks, I'm fine."
IG: "Please take it, I appreciate the favor- I can't walk."
Jane: "That makes two of us. They tried to put me in a nursing home this March."
Jane turns and hobbles away back into the store, and IG leaves.
Just another weird day at the pet store.
Jane: "Yeh?"
IG: "Hey, you work in that store there?" (IG indicates the chain pet store when Jane works as a vendor rep)
Jane: "I work in there, not for them."
IG: "I called ahead for them to set aside the largest cat litter box for me. If I give you the money, could you go in and buy it for me?"
Jane: "Well, sure, I guess."
Jane walks in and asks a manager if anyone has set aside a cat litterbox for this man. I take the opportunity to get a closer look at him, remembering the stories about Ted Bundy using a faked disability to get help from women at stores and then luring them into his car. The guy just kind of set off some alarm bells. I didn't want him to know I was checking out his car, but I got the license plate (I won't put it here, but it was a really strange vanity plate with a word that had no meaning to me). It wasn't a handicapped plate, but I didn't get close enough to check for a tag on the rearview mirror. It did not look like the car had hand controls or any other adaptations indicating the man could not walk, and I saw him move his legs a couple of times. I figured give him the benefit of the doubt and presume that he has a disability that severely limits his mobility but allows him to operate a car, but I kept an eye on him while Jane returned with the catbox.
Jane: "Here, I wanna make sure this is what you want."
IG: "No, no, I want a deeper one, with a little cutout in the front for the cut to step in easier- that's what they gave me last time."
You mean he makes a HABIT of calling ahead for enormous catboxes? How many cats does he HAVE?
Jane: "All right, I'll see what they've got."
Jane returns to the store, spends a few minutes in side, and comes back out with a stack of three different large litterboxes of various styles.
Jane: "See the one you want?"
IG: "Yes, that middle one will do fine."
Jane: "All right."
Jane goes back in and pays for the item with the $50.00 bill the man handed her (guess she looks trustworthy?) and comes back out again with the catbox.
IG: "Thanks."
Jane: "Here's your change."
IG: "Please, take five dollars for a tip."
Jane: "Naw. I get paid to work here."
IG: "I insist- as a gentleman, my honor prompts me to tip you for your work above and beyond your job description."
Jane: "No, thanks, I'm fine."
IG: "Please take it, I appreciate the favor- I can't walk."
Jane: "That makes two of us. They tried to put me in a nursing home this March."
Jane turns and hobbles away back into the store, and IG leaves.
Just another weird day at the pet store.
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