the token female to be the first to greet any patron who beckoned me with the ding dong of the front door bell as the glass door swung from open to shut.
Overall, I enjoyed this aspect of my job, getting to be personable and hospitable to those in need of tubes, tires or a new weekend warrior toy. There were, however, a handful of…..characters, we’ll call them, that would come through that door causing me to look at my fellow gentlemen coworkers with puppy dog eyes BEGGING them to do the chivalrous thing and “take this one for me”.
all I can say is ….CHIVALRY IS DEAD
He came walking in dressed in daisy dukes. The denim, cut off, “you can see the pocket linings coming out the bottom” kind of daisy dukes. And atop, a mesh cut off belly shirt. I believe it was yellow.
I am not one to poke fun at others misfortunes, especially those classified under the
“physical handicap” category, but the guy had a hook. A mechanical, forceps looking thing that would every now and again malfunction.
And he had a tricycle.
And he would hit on me.
Be still my fainting heart.
Usually I’d get through conversations with Cap’n Hook with relatively few emotional scars.
Today was different.
He sauntered in pushing the trike with one hand and holding a metal bike part in the hook. He parked that sucker one foot away from me and swung one of his tube sock donned legs up onto his tricycle seat, as much like Captain Morgan than the ol’ scallywag himself.
Need I remind you of the daisy dukes?
I was speechless….not in the “I am inspired and awed sort of way”, but more of in the “OH DEAR LORD MY RETINAS!!!” sort of way.
“Yup.” he said. “Gotta get this fixed up today.” Was he talking about his trike or his unfortunate fashion (and not to mention, social) feau pax? I was unsure.
He spoke and I stood wide eyed staring. Much like in the passing of a very bad car wreck. Don’t look, don’t look…..aaahhh, why’d I look?!?!?! He continued to talk, and unfortunately I decided to come to at a most inopportune time.
“Yeah, hit the jackpot today. Was dumpster diving and found a whole garbage bag of porn videos.”
vomit. vomit. puppy dog eyes. searching…….. for……..a…….rescue……anyone? anyone? no? crap.
My courageous, & manly bike mechanics stood snickering in the back. My face flushed red and right at that same moment, Cap’n got talking expressively with his hand/hook and FLUNG the metal bike part across half the length of the store, almost rendering a woman looking at shoes unconscious. As my gaze came back to the dumpster diving junkie, I realized he did not even notice that he had just chucked his bit o’ bike.
And this is the part of the story that I get the giggles.
As I try to stifle my chuckles, he finally gets around to “so that’s why I brought this broken bit to you to….wait, where’d it go??”
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
(gasp)
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
No kiddin’?
Let’s just say this is where I referred him to the “Bicycle Professionals” to get the “adequate attention that he and his tricycle needed.”
ring. ring.
“The Bike Shop, this is Awkward Girl, how may I help you?” “oh, Captain, it’s for you….”
“Jessica Simpson called, she wants her shorts back.”
If you’re going to don the dukes, I suggest you do so Bravely.
breatheinthenewthings 