An Ill omen while getting my morning latte from Peet's: Sandra crouched on the ledge by Salon Lux like a particularly ill favored gargoyle, buttressed by attendant mounds of grimy plastic grocery bags and rolling suitcase. I hadn't seen her for a few months and was hoping she was gone- while the spectacle of a giant blonde Dane being the target of her anti-Semitic tirades must provide tremendous amusement to bystanders, being on the receiving end is thoroughly played.
I managed to duck into the cafe without setting her off and figured I was safe, until someone tapped me on the shoulder while I was waiting for my latte. It was Very Black (and crazy) Man.
Prolonged exposure to his jumbled, heavily accented speech let me decipher his pronouncement, issued swiftly before scampering back out the door.
"If you have a moment, I have some questions for you outside."
"What a marvelous way to kick off Monday!" I thought.
My drink arrived and I skipped out, pointedly ignoring him to no avail. He caught up as I was unlocking the door. Paraphrasing, and rendering his statement much more lucid than it was,
"I need you to help me with the Social Security check, they have the check but I need someone to be a payee so I can get the money..."
"Sorry, I have to work now, I can't help you. Goodbye," slipping through the door and closing it.
I took my time setting up the till and getting the vacuum out, but he didn't go anywhere. So I opened up and prepared for the worst.
"I was thinking you could help me..."
"I'm at work, this is a bookstore. I can't help you with anything except books, sorry."
"I thought I would ask someone my height and they could help."
"Nope, sorry. Just books- good luck though."
Thankfully he left.
Schizophrenic Gal (who made another run last week, but left without incident after I yelled at her) has made me paranoid that I'm going to have to bodily remove every nutcase who walks through the door.
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