You may have noticed by now, that I have a gift for getting myself into the most unlikely situations. I was fated to be a good story teller, but at my own expense. What I’m about to tell you sounds like it should have come from a TV show rather than my everyday life. Even I didn’t know what happened until after it was over.
As I previously mentioned, working with the public is like dying a slow a painful death for 40 hours a week. During this particular week, it was like being bludgeoned with a butter knife for 40 hours. Those of us who work in retail or the food industry have a plethora of stories in our vault that attest to the inhumane, childish and downright crazy antics of the American people.
I encountered one such person on this cold February day. I was pushing carts at work, minding my own business, when it suddenly occurred to me that someone was screaming in the background. I had been tuning it out because I was used to such unpleasant noises coming from the kind of people I served at this particular store. However, the screaming became louder and louder until suddenly I turned around, and realized this woman was screaming at me.
This wasn't your average middle-aged woman. She loomed over my 5’4” frame- she was at least 6'5" if not 7' tall, and had long, brown, scraggly hair, which was covered by a ratty black beanie. She was dressed in Goodwill's finest, and her clothes were begging for an encounter with a washing machine and a cup of Tide.
"DO YOU LIKE MY PERFUME?!!" she screamed at me repeatedly. Judging by the looks of her, perfume was definitely not the last thing she came into contact with. Her last encounter with anything probably involved white powder and one of her long dirty fingernails.
"DO YOU LIKE MY PERFUME?!" her eyes were wide and maniacal and she was coming closer to me.
I made the mistake of turning my back to her and hoping she'd just ignore me. This was not unlike the childhood belief that if you closed your eyes, scary monsters would go away. Why I thought I would get lucky and have her ignore me was just ignorant. I should’ve known better. Luck and I have never rendezvoused, as this entire blog so candidly explains.
Suddenly she decided that she needed to come into contact with me. She reached her arms around my head while I had my back towards her and she began touching my face!! Her hands were enclosed in smelly, black, knit gloves and –yuck! They were on me!
"DO YOU LIKE MY PERFUME? YOU SHOULD, BECAUSE I HAVE DEAD CAT ON MY HANDS!!!"
Holy crap. What was going on?! Panic mode!
"Get the F--- away from me! DO NOT TOUCH ME!" I screamed at her, batting her hands away. She looked enraged that I refused her eau de dead carcass.
I made for the doorway of the building and to my dismay she followed me. I ran inside the store and spun around to get ready for her next move. She put her hands on top of the doorframe and started calling me every name in the book. Customers stopped what they were doing and employees froze in disbelief.
When she was done with her rant, I yelled, “GET THE F--- OUT OF THE STORE!!!” Everyone was still frozen, so I yelled, “HELLO?! CAN SOMEONE CALL THE F----N’ POLICE?!” I was definitely not getting employee of the month.
She taunted back, “You can’t get me because I’m in the GARAGE NOW!!” She started pulling on the doorframe as if she were bringing the entire 120,000 square foot structure down. Unfortunately, crack did not turn her into Samson and give her biblical strength. The building went nowhere.
To prevent me from creating more of a scene, a manager came and led me away. I was visibly shaken and not sure what had just happened. Adrenaline was still pumping through my system and the rest of my shift was a blur. All I remember is that they allowed me to not push carts, and gave me the privilege of packing groceries instead. Why they didn’t just send me home is a testament to the way they value their employees.
The store manager finally came out of the office where he was probably watching clips on YouTube. Instead of calling the police, he watched the drug addict go from store to store harassing people until she faded away into the horizon. I was later told that I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and that no documentation was needed for the event.
I wonder what they would have done if a man had come up and started touching my face and harassing me. I was pissed and lost a lot of respect for the company that day. Who knew what that crack head would have done had she encountered me deeper in the parking lot, and not near the store’s entrance?
When my shift finally ended, I went home to my roommate who asked, “So how was your day?”
“You won’t believe what happened…”
I will never forget that day at work. Now I have a desk job. And damnit, I've earned it!
Sticks and Stones will break your bones, but turning your back on screaming crack heads will give you a great story to tell for the rest of your life.
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