I have been having the most productive morning ever! My bathroom is so clean, it's just...insane. All my chores are done, I've been to the gym, I've been to Target, and I've gone to get my Diet Coke. And that's where I met my new archnemesis.
I'm going to call him PocketHand Man. PocketHand Man rolls up to the counter at 7-11 with a six-pack of Henry Weinhard's -- it's big here, but you can get it at the grocery store across the street for three dollars cheaper than at 7-11, and he sets it ALL THE WAY at the far end of the counter. Then, he sticks his hands in the pockets of his pleather coat, averts his eyes from the cashier, and waits. And waits. And waits. Meanwhile, the cashier doesn't know what this guy wants because the beer is all the way down at the other end of the counter. So, he's waiting for PocketHand Man to ask for cigarettes or something. I'm standing there with my Super Big Gulp just watching and sipping, watching and sipping.
Finally, the cashier glances down at the counter and sees the beer and goes "Is that yours?" PocketHand Man says, petulantly, "yeah," then sighs with disgust. At this point I'm trying to determine whether PocketHand Man might actually going to be about to rob the 7-11, what with the hands in the pockets STILL. So, the cashier walks down to the other end of the counter, gets the beer, rings it up, and says the total. PocketHand Man pulls one hand out of his pocket and drops a big wad of $1's on the counter. The cashier looks at me (I'm a regular after all), gets the guy's change, and drops it on the counter right in front of him. I cheer internally. PocketHand Man just stares at the cashier, waiting for him to pick it up. When he doesn't after about 15 seconds, PocketHand Man reluctantly pulls his hand out again, scoops up his change, and then straight back into the pocket. The cashier bags up the beer, sort of brushes the bag to the side, and starts helping me. PocketHand Man stands there for about ten beats too long -- long enough to make us all even more uncomfortable, and then picks up his bag and leaves.
After he left I went through my usual greeting with the 7-11 guy. He's nice, he and his wife are immigrants from Africa, and they both work at 7-11 and are there all the time. I tried to be extra nice to him today because I felt so bad about PocketHand Man. I don't know if he was crazy, or racist, or just thought he was better than the guy who works at 7-11, but what a total dick. I hope that I see him again someday, in another capacity, like across a courtroom. Until then, let's hope karma is paying attention.