The Old Man and The Bag, Chapter Two.

I’m sitting in the back, eating my lunch, on break. A coworker comes up to me and says, “Your favorite customer is here.”
And I was thinking, “Well, I have so many…”
“The bag-man is here. He was calling me the store’s name, as if that’s my name. And he was asking for you.”
I stopped eating. Seriously, am I that important to this man?
“He kept asking for the tall guy with the black hair.”
Lovely, just great, some crazy old man needs me.
“He told me to prove to him there are no more bags left.”
Really, how do you do this? It’s like proving there’s no cake because we ate it all by cutting our stomachs open. So she was in the back looking for more bags, which don’t exist, which is also a paradox. Instead, she sends yet another manager to help the man.
I lean back and I tell her, “Did you see that movie, ‘As Good As It Gets’?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m the waitress.”

~’Where do they teach you to talk like this? In some Panama City “Sailor wanna hump-hump” bar, or is it getaway day and your last shot at his whiskey? Sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here.’~

I wondered if he’d be at my house asking why I wasn’t at work today, offering to help my son who doesn’t exist, and sending a doctor over to make sure my nonexistent boy isn’t ill anymore.

Customer Types: The Dumb, Micromanagement. The Riddler

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