Hey everyone, I'm a first time poster, blah, blah, blah...anyway, call me Freckles. This is from approximately five years ago. I worked shortly for a store in NYC in the west village called Chef & Sommelier (it closed shortly after I quit in a dramatic fashion so, don't care about blowing up their spot). We sold all sorts of flatware, dishes, wine glasses, you get the picture. BTW, this is a bit lengthy.
Bitchface coworker was hiding in the basement stockroom watching some show on the laptop leaving me alone upstairs. More than fine with me.
So, I see 'her' walk (and I use that word loosely) across West Broadway headed straight for my front door. She is not the typical customer to come in for a $70 set of 4 wine glasses. She was scary skinny, face looking like a bar room floor, tee shirt, baggy jeans and flip flops. Oh yeah, it's December and like 17 degrees out. Okay, I'll play, I'm bored as shit. Big mistake, huge.
She comes in, I immediately greet her ask if she needs help and I can't help but notice the startling amount of missing teeth in her head. Oh shit! I so see where this is going; also noticing the teeth grinding, jerky movements and crazy eyes. She ignores me and like a moth drawn to a flame, she hones in on a rocks glass with a 1/2 inch thick bottom. It's leaded crystal i.e., expensive. And, here come the crazy train full speed into the station.
She brings the rocks glass to me at the counter and starts demanding answers to all these crazy questions:
The gems include:
"I need this right this second how much??" (After I tell her, she really went off the rails)
"What bitch! Don't you get it? I need it now! Can't I just have this one? The display?"
"I need it to heat something up in it, will it crack?
"Will it explode?"
Yeah, bitch was cooking meth in her apt across the street. Now, if something went wrong the whole block could have exploded. So, I told her that, nor any other glass in my store would suit her purpose. Then, it got worse.
She flipped out. Started screaming that I'm a racist, because I won't sell her a glass because she's black. And, it gets worse, she then raises the glass like she's going to throw it at me and starts screaming "You fucking skinny white bitch! Fuck you, you stupid motherfucking cunt! Don't you get it's an emergency??! You are fucking useless! Fuck you! I'm just gonna take this one you anorexic fucking ho!"
I calmly replied, "Sure, go ahead, steal it. I don't give a fuck methface. I'll just call the cops, point across the street show them where you live and within fifteen seconds you'll have fifteen boys in blue busting your door open while you're whipping up a fresh batch of meth. And well, it's Friday, so, you'll spend a weekend in the tombs, get remanded to Rikers Island on Monday and then it's probably another fifteen years in Women's Correctional in Bedford. Sound good? Okay, I'll grab the phone."
She put that glass down so fast and ran out of my store like Flash Lightning. I never saw her again, not even in the neighborhood.
The quitting story is a great one but, unrelated. It's a long story in its own right. Let's just say, it never felt so good to quit. And, I was so proud I didn't KO Bitchface. I'm a trained boxer, I've KO'ed guys 3-4 weight classes above me.