Random Loiterer: I need to pick up a manual.
Me: The print shop is across the hall.
RL: They're very angry over there, so I thought I'd give my business to you.
Me: Thanks. But this is a comic book store.
RL: But you can print a manual for me, right?
Me: No. I don't have a printer.
RL: Then where did you get those?
She points to my subscription sheets.
I point across the hall.
RL: Fine. Sorry you don't want my business.
Years ago, when I worked for the other comic book store, my coworkers would tell me of the former manager who had a nervous breakdown and would show up for work but leave the lights off, keep the door locked, and sit in a chair in the middle of the store, wearing a captain's hat and shaking his head when people tried to get into the store.
I'm not sure if he had a breakdown or if that was his way of preventing a breakdown.
I'm not advocating the captain's hat. Or the staring at the door while it's locked. But I am completely understanding of the occasional urge to just lock the door and go do cartwheels in the streets for a while until the world seems a little more whimsical and less aggressively weird.
I just prefer to fight that urge, and to channel all my confusion through social media posts.