One hot August day a big, shirtless black dude comes into the branch wearing shorts and a bubble jacket. He rode up on a bicycle, it's hot, he's sweaty, and very polite. He is asked for identification and upon that request politely produces a baseball card, a white dude's baseball card. When he is told that he needs to show ID he again shows the baseball card, after doing this several times he is told that the dude on the baseball card isn't even him. He again shows the baseball card and says ID, finally he is told sorry we can no longer accept baseball cards as a form of ID. He very politely and quietly leaves. He leaves the bike behind and walks away. Because it is considered an " incident " the police are called, they find him at a nearby restaurant trying to use his " ID " to order food. The bike sat outside for a couple of weeks and then one day was just gone, never saw him or the bike again.
Today a dude walks in covered in chicken grease ( I mean covered-even in his hair ). He walks up to the front counter where I am sitting I start to speak to him but he walks away, he is touching everything. We have a donation jar with money in it on the counter that we are collecting for the March of Dimes, he's all over that jar, the whole time staring at me. The manager and I are the only people in the branch, she says " Sir, can I help you? " He leans in towards me and says " I'm a ma'am not a sir and I'm a virgin " I didn't say a word, really what do you say? Good job, thanks for the info? What would have been the correct response? He walks to the managers desk where he proceeds to say terrible things about his own mother ( who we do not know ) calls her all sorts of names ( which I will not repeat ) then says " God rest her soul she was a sainted woman " The manager asks him his name he says " my name is biblical, and holy and you better put the fucking hyphen in there because it should have a hyphen" he goes on to say so many strange things. His name was about 5 names long one of them being Paris as he said " Paris like the fucking capital of France ". I believe at this point that he may be dangerous so I attempt to pick up my phone, he didn't like this, he stared at me while talking to her. I managed to get Lucian on his cell phone via text from mine. Lucian calls the office phone, yep, the office phone because he doesn't understand the text. I answer but say very little because chicken grease dude is staring at me, and I don't want to anger him. He is already angry he slammed his fist on the managers desk told her she was doing it wrong that it wasn't true and on and on. She asked him if he owned a car he said " yes, a classic car " she said what kind? he said " a 1987 Ford escort". I have to admit it was hard to keep a straight face when that info was given. Lucian got the gist of what was happening and called the police. When I hung up the phone I saw a customer of ours getting out of his car, I didn't know what to do,when I stood up chicken grease dude again whipped his head around and just glared at me. Our customer ( a man ) walked in, that changed the tone of the situation, chicken grease dude got up and walked out. He stopped just outside the door and was standing there when I locked it, just staring at me, kinda eerie. The police show up and sort of act like it's funny, now I can see some of the humor in it but not then, he was a lunatic the only thing missing was the aluminum foil hat. The male cop says" okay we'll look around for him." I said kinda hard to miss, covered in chicken grease, dogs will probably be following him. He said " well if he comes back just tell him to leave " I said ya know it didn't feel quite that simple this mother fucker is gonna hurt somebody so maybe you ought to right this down. He says "we'll call you if we find him so if you don't hear from us we didn't find him" and then the cops leave, that's it. And no we never heard from them.
So...in my opinion chicken grease dude beats bubble jacket dude...hands down... but hey, you decide... I'm busy trying to get a gun permit.
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