Fun with A. Fuck.

So A works in the shop as an installer. He's from Albania. I suppose he's a nice enough guy; I really don't know him all that well. He happened to notice that I have lost like 20 pounds in the last couple months (probably more like 15 now) and said something nice to me about it (in the non-gayest way possible, of course). I also know that he really likes strippers and gambling. And he hates pizza, which is just WEIRD. Who hates pizza?

Anyway, he's really high-strung. I mean REALLY high-strung. Like a large squirrel in Carhartt. Eveything's histrionics, all the time. Full bore. It's crazy.

And he liberally peppers every conversation he has with me with curse words. And when I say "liberally peppers," I mean "liberally fucking peppers cockgobbler shithat motherfucker jism tits--FUCK." And I like a good curse word as much as the next asshole fuckbag, so you know that THIS guy can really curse a blue streak. So dealings with A are...interesting.

He comes to my office and I'm on the phone. I can clearly see him waiting for me. Whatever he needs: it's URGENT. He looks like Jack Bauer. He's almost shaking and sweating. Despite that fact that I'm clearly engaged in something else (phone to my ear, moving mouth, emitting sounds intended to communcate information, instructions and/or requests to another human being), he asks me: "Briandoyouhaveaminute?" I hold up a finger, assuming that this international sign for "just a sec, there" will be readily understood by an Albanian. Nope. "CauseIthinkyouorderedsomethingandit'shere." So I then FORCEFULLY hold up a finger. How does one forcefully hold up one's finger, exactly? No idea. I must just live in the moment, man, because I did something and it worked. He quieted.

I finished my call and walked out to the dock with him. "Didyouorderthisshit?" he asks me. He shows me 7 boxes. "Uh, I don't know. What's in the boxes?"

"HowthefuckamIsupposedtoknow?Whatthefuck?What'sinthesefuckingboxes?Whatisthisshit?"

"I have no idea. I order stuff all the time. Could be mine. No idea what's in the boxes?"

He shoves a packing slip under my nose. "That'syourfuckingname,right?"

"Yup. That's me."

"Idunnowhatthefuck'sintheresoIdunnowhatthefucktodowiththisshit."

"Ok, ok. Give me a second."

So I go back to my office, look up the purchase order number, and go back into the shop to find him.

He left.

Guess it wasn't that urgent after all. What a weirdo. Fuck.