[QUOTE=Mindfield]
(Time: About 3-4 years ago)
Man walks into my Black & Decker factory outlet. He is immediately surrounded by electric lawnmowers, power tools, power tool accessories, drill bits, saw blades, grinding wheels, augers, signs about mowing lawns, trimming hedges, cutting wood, drilling holes, and immediately off to his right, lines of people standing, tools in hand, waiting to book them in for service.
He walks to the counter, where I’m standing, and in a relatively thick accent, asked, “Is this the immigration office?”
I briefly considered spinning a tale about the migratory habits of the northern yellow-bellied thickness planer, but thought better of myself.
The real nutjob though was probably when I was working at Future Shop a couple of years earlier than that, in the entertainment department. (Video games, software, music and DVDs.) I got a phone call.
“Hiiii,” said the husky female voice on the other end in a slurred, lethargic voice that made me think the next words out of her mouth were going to be, “I just mainlined a turkey baster full of heroin.”
But my job was my job. “Hello, how can I help you?” I asked noncommittally.
“Do you sell movies?” she asked without emotion, but with the apparent motivation of hoping for an affirmative answer.
“Yes, we do.” I responded.
“Oh,” she replied dejectedly.
Seconds passed.
“Do you sell pornos?” she continued in the same uninflected tone.
“Um … no, no we don’t.” This was Future Shop after all. A mainstream big box electronics store. We don’t have kraft paper over the windows.
“Oh,” she said despondently.
Minutes passed.
“Do you like pornos?” she went on.
“Uh … no … not really.” She was freakin’ creeping me out. I wasn’t about get into a conversation with her involving sex, even by proxy.
“Oh,” she replied in a depressing manner.
Days passed.
“Would you like to watch pornos with me?” she asked, her complete lack of intonation seeming to suggest that she wanted me to – or not, really, she could go either way and would be just as happy with a bag of chips.
But she was incredibly creepy. “No,” I said flatly.
“Oh,” she said.
Somewhere, a new planet cooled and began to form life.
“Why not?”
Now let me be clear. I now had her squarely pegged as a druggie and possibly a psychopath, so I didn’t want to piss her off. Granted, the act of getting out of her chair/couch/laundry hamper would probably send her floating off into the ethereal plane with Elvis and a barking hoagie, so the chances of her coming by to brutally murder me were pretty slim. Still, slim was not zero. Also, I had no idea why the thought hadn’t yet crossed my mind to simply hang up on her. “No,” was all I said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I’m married.”
“So?”
“I don’t cheat.” Seriously. Why am I still talking?
“Why not?”
Yeah. Done talking. I hung up.
[/QUOTE]
That was fantastic.