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For some reason, I just remembered this. It happened at the Liquor Store of Doom about a month or two ago. I'll put it up in two parts, because it's pretty long.
SC: A small, swarthy, elderly man with curling salt-and-pepper hair. I can't remember if he wore a baseball cap, so I'll assume that he did.
Me: Still feeling fairly new to the job.
M: The manager, who is a million times braver than I am.
J: A co-worker.
H: Another co-worker.
So. On the first day, the SC comes in. Something's a bit 'off' about him, but nothing I can pinpoint; not enough to say that he's drunk and I can't serve him or anything. I guess he seemed a bit mentally slow.
SC: *stands in the middle of the store for a minute, then slowly turns towards me* Old English? Where's your Old English?
(Old English, for anyone who doesn't know, is a malt liquor. Beer-like and apparently quite disgusting, but also cheap and fairly strong.)
Me: I'll show you.
Since, as mentioned, there was something a bit weird about him, I was wary of him. However, he followed me, grabbed an Old English, paid for it, and left without incident. He did go on at me for a few minutes at the till, complaining about his bad leg and asking me to pray for him. I assured him that I would, and he finally left.
J: That guy's already been in here once.
Me: What? Should I not have served him? (Now realising that he did seem a bit tipsy, not 'slow' as I had assumed.)
J: Don't worry about it. Let me handle him next time.
A few hours later, guess who returns? He's quite visibly intoxicated this time.
SC: *approaches J, while I hide and observe* Old English? Where's your Old English?
Remember when I showed the guy the Old English a while ago? Apparently, he didn't.
J: Sorry, man, I can't sell you anything.
SC: What? Why not? I have a bad leg, I need Old English... *continues on this vein for a while, sometimes incoherently, whilst J just repeats that the man is drunk and will not be sold anything.*
Finally, he leaves. All seems well.
The next evening - Old English man returns.
Again, like the first time I helped him, he doesn't seem drunk.
SC: Could you go get me some Old English?
At this point, I was both sick of him and scared of getting in trouble for selling to an intoxicated person. I decided that since he didn't seem drunk yet, I would sell to him that one last time, but I certainly was not going to go get his liquor for him.
Me: It's in the cooler. I showed you before. *hoping he'd have forgotten where it was again and leave*
SC: *whines and moans about his leg for a while, finally goes into the cooler and emerges with an Old English*
I rang it through, not bothering to hide my irritation. I hoped that if I was cold to him, maybe he'd take the hint and not come back. Something about the guy just creeped me out. After I took his money, I sanitized my hands, because it made me feel dirty. (Knowing what I do now, I'm REALLY glad that I did.)
End Part One
SC: A small, swarthy, elderly man with curling salt-and-pepper hair. I can't remember if he wore a baseball cap, so I'll assume that he did.
Me: Still feeling fairly new to the job.
M: The manager, who is a million times braver than I am.
J: A co-worker.
H: Another co-worker.
So. On the first day, the SC comes in. Something's a bit 'off' about him, but nothing I can pinpoint; not enough to say that he's drunk and I can't serve him or anything. I guess he seemed a bit mentally slow.
SC: *stands in the middle of the store for a minute, then slowly turns towards me* Old English? Where's your Old English?
(Old English, for anyone who doesn't know, is a malt liquor. Beer-like and apparently quite disgusting, but also cheap and fairly strong.)
Me: I'll show you.
Since, as mentioned, there was something a bit weird about him, I was wary of him. However, he followed me, grabbed an Old English, paid for it, and left without incident. He did go on at me for a few minutes at the till, complaining about his bad leg and asking me to pray for him. I assured him that I would, and he finally left.
J: That guy's already been in here once.
Me: What? Should I not have served him? (Now realising that he did seem a bit tipsy, not 'slow' as I had assumed.)
J: Don't worry about it. Let me handle him next time.
A few hours later, guess who returns? He's quite visibly intoxicated this time.
SC: *approaches J, while I hide and observe* Old English? Where's your Old English?
Remember when I showed the guy the Old English a while ago? Apparently, he didn't.
J: Sorry, man, I can't sell you anything.
SC: What? Why not? I have a bad leg, I need Old English... *continues on this vein for a while, sometimes incoherently, whilst J just repeats that the man is drunk and will not be sold anything.*
Finally, he leaves. All seems well.
The next evening - Old English man returns.
Again, like the first time I helped him, he doesn't seem drunk.
SC: Could you go get me some Old English?
At this point, I was both sick of him and scared of getting in trouble for selling to an intoxicated person. I decided that since he didn't seem drunk yet, I would sell to him that one last time, but I certainly was not going to go get his liquor for him.
Me: It's in the cooler. I showed you before. *hoping he'd have forgotten where it was again and leave*
SC: *whines and moans about his leg for a while, finally goes into the cooler and emerges with an Old English*
I rang it through, not bothering to hide my irritation. I hoped that if I was cold to him, maybe he'd take the hint and not come back. Something about the guy just creeped me out. After I took his money, I sanitized my hands, because it made me feel dirty. (Knowing what I do now, I'm REALLY glad that I did.)
End Part One
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