Obviously, I much prefer the loiterers of Beverly to the loiterers of Harvard Square (the customers at Harvard were rarely the problem ... not never the problem ... but rarely the problem). But this dude who is "testing" our dice by tossing each die against the table over and over to listen to the sound of them, I'm going to roll his head out into the street and listen to the sound of it bouncing through the traffic.
Last week, there was a wonderful moment of Terrible Humanity.
While my Coworker was on Dinner Break (of course), a Cis-Male and Cis-female entered the store. CM was walking around, picking up books, and Educating CF on comic history. Incorrectly, of course.
CM: Do you know about X-Men? It started in the 80s, it's this pro-diversity comic that thinks being Canadian is being diverse. If you're into progressive metaphors, it's ok. Have you read Batman Year One?
CF: Yes. I've read all of Miller's DC and Marvel stuff. Even the Superman Year One he just did.
CM: Batman Year One is different.
CF: I. Know. I've read both of them.
CM: You probably read Wonder Woman, right?
CF sighs and walks away while CM continues babbling.
I sharpen my Killin' The Patriarchy Stick.
CF eventually grows bored enough to leave while CM is still talking at her.
Me: Dude. She left. She's gone.
He continues to putter around, but stays mercifully silent. Until. A guy around the same age comes in, walks over to him and nods his head.
New Cis Male: Hey.
CM: Hey. Have you read Frank Miller's Daredevil. Some people think Bendis's run in the best of the series, but without Miller's foundation it's just fluff. You know?
I found myself relieved to realize this person wasn't a Mansplaining Dudebag. He was a condescending jerkface to everyone, regardless of gender identity.
I have reached the point in my retail observation where even that feels like somewhat of a victory.
Comrade: What are you humming?
Me: Something by The Beatles?
Comrade: Which song?
Me: I don't know. I think it's ... (hums for a bit) ... Yes, the name of the song is "Something".
Comrade: Wow. You really nailed it, there.
It turns out my knowledge of post-White Album The Beatles isn't what it should be.
Also, notice our restraint in not turning it into a Who's On First routine.
Comraude: I have good news and bad news.
Me: How good? And how bad?
Comrade: The upstairs neighbors have stopped playing the piano.
From upstairs, the asthmatic fart of a misunderstood saxophone honks.
On my way to get something to drink, a woman in a fanciful head scarf was approaching me. But, from a distance, with her head turned to talk to her companion, it looked like she was wearing a giant, smiling Velociraptor head. So I made a disappointed face when I realized it was just a fanciful scarf, and I fear she thinks I thought her head scarf was ugly (or worse, she thought I was some bigot who thinks I am entitled to an opinion on who should or shouldn't have the right to wear head scarves), but there was no way to gracefully articulate "I'm sorry. Your head scarf is beautiful, but it was not the fake dinosaur head I imagined you would be wearing."
The World Is Still The Same In 2020:
Friday, I stopped into The Picnic, and was told our ink cartridge was empty, and was asked how to get a new one. I provided the info, and was told they would order it and pick it up on Friday.
On Sunday, it had neither been picked up nor ordered, so I couldn't do my Sunday tasks. So I called my boss about ordering it. He said he would order it right away.
An hour later, it had not been ordered, so I stayed on the phone until he confirmed it was ordered. Forty-five minutes later, I went to pick it up.
Emotionally Dead Staples Employee: What?
Me: I'm here to pick up an online order.
Me: A.D.A.M. Adam.
EDSE: I don't have an order for you.
Me: I have the order number here.
I present her with the paper. She scrolls through her tablet.
Me: Nope, what?
EDSE: Nope ... sir?
Me: No. I mean ... do you not have the item in stock, do you not see the order number, does it not have my name on it?
EDSE: Are you sure you're at the right store?
Me: Could you answer my question?
EDSE: What question?
Me: Do you not have the item in stock? Do you not have the order number? Or do you have the order but not my name?
EDSE: We don't have that order number.
EDSE: Let me get my manager.
Manager is equally helpful.
I go back to The Picnic and call my boss who ... had just finished placing the order, not having actually done so when I was on the phone.
I wait about a half hour, and go back to the Staples. EDSE is slothily picking my order up off the shelf, after she makes eye contact.
Me: I was in here before about an online order. I didn't realize my boss had put it in so recently. But I can see you got the order so I'd like to pick it up.
EDSE: What is it?
Me: The ink cartridge you just put down. My name is Adam Stone. Here's the order number.
She looks confusedly at the order number.
Me: No. My name is Adam.
EDSE: I thought you said Danny.
EDSE: Let me see something.
She walks away.
EDSE: Sorry, This order isn't for Danny. It's for Tony or Adam.
Me: Yes. I am not Danny. I have never been Danny. My name is Adam.
EDSE: Can I see your ID?
Me: Uh. Sure.
EDSE: What did you say your order was?
Me: That ink cartridge. Right there. That's the order I'm picking up.
She rings it up.
EDSE: That will be ...
Me: No. It's already paid for. Online. I am just here to pick it up.
EDSE: Oh. Let me get a manager to void this.
Me: Can I just sign for the item first and go before you...?
EDSE walks away.
I sign the paper, grab the ink cartridge and leave,. Secure in the knowledge that if I have done something wrong, someone named Danny is sure to suffer the consequences.