Oof.

WHAT A WEEK.


It's like everything happened (if that makes any sense at all).


Tuesday, one of my super fun regulars was not having a good day.  When I asked how he was he replied, "Miserable."  I thought he was going to explain what was going on (like you would with a bartender, that amateur stranger psychiatrist) but he really was just not interested in being in a good mood.  I asked and he said it was easier than being happy.  (This boggles my mind though I TOTALLY GET IT.)
On leaving he says, "Besides - there's too many happy people in the world."  I find this crushing for some reason.  I suppose it's the pure, uncut cynicism.  My face fell and I emitted a quiet, "Oh," not knowing at all how to respond.  He half-laughed and almost seemed he felt badly about being so negative.  Not sure.  (Doesn't matter.)


Thursday he seemed downright angry.  I don't know what the deal is.  I find it hard because I like him (as in, he is interesting and kind) and I don't think of him as a customer.  He's a person. He must be the recipient of the most quickly issued license to calling me "Jess".  On the whole, I loathe being called Jess.  I am actually turning away from the computer screen right now to avoid looking at those two typed versions. Mad stigma.  Can't explain it.  Very few people call me that... People in my family do and they are allowed because it doesn't really matter WHAT they call me....I just hear the relationship (if that makes any sense).
Some of my friends I have asked to not call me that and they have obliged (love it!).  Some I have asked and they forget often (don't mind it).  Some I won't ask either because it might embarrass them or cause mild tension (not worth it).  But this guy... A couple weeks ago he walked in, walked straight up to the counter, and I said, "Hi S____," smilingly. He ho-ho-HO!s, "I guess I'm the one wearing the nametag now."  He had forgotten his name was stitched on his uniform.  I covered up my nametag to test him and he says, "Good one, Jess," without a second's hesitation.  I was impressed.  Normally I cringe hard when someone I just met calls me that because I think it will be hard for them to unlearn if that's how they met me.  But with him I only smiled more biggerly. 


I like using his name and he likes using mine.  It's such a funny interaction we have.
And I hope that he gets unangry soon.  I hope he has people in his life who love him and treat him well.  I hope he has people to talk to, to have fun with, to blow of steam with/at.  I hope someone or something diffuses his anger and gives him a good reason to be happy - or even a good reason to fight to be happy.


Sigh.  On Wednesday I said in a still voice, staring at a table, "I need help," while sitting with someone I know and trust.  It is a weird moment to be in, so it is.  Gosh.  Gosh.  It is HARD to say those words.
I had a lot of trouble with that session.... I looked at the table a lot...fiddled with my notebook and pen a lot.  I even "answered" a legitimate "why?" with, "I don't have an answer for you," which is something I hate to have to say.  I hated that I didn't have a good answer; something reasonable or respectable to supply.
Ugh.  We press on.


Tonight Batman stopped by.  I mentioned this guy a few weeks ago.  He looks like Christian Bale.  Not that long ago I had his cigarettes ready before he had even finished pumping his gas (you don't NOT notice someone like that) and when I offered them before he asked he blinked and smiled a surprized, "WOW."  He paused for a second, fully taken aback.  (It's a popular brand but not a popular size.  Moreover, this would be the fourth time he'd been in and he doesn't come in every week.)  Understand that for most people it takes them coming in several times a week for about two weeks for me to remember their order.  THAT'S HOW GOOD HE LOOKS.


He says, swiping his debit card and not making eye-contact with me, "I'm impressed. ... I am very impressed."  I tell him it's my job... though I don't like encouraging people to smoke.  I briefly explain how it's difficult to balance providing good (and personalized!) customer service with not endorsing or encouraging smoking.  He seems to understand.

When he walked up that day, I said, "Oh look - it's Bruce Wayne," with a tone that shows I know it's annoying and unoriginal.  I just feel it needs to be said.  (Like when I call that other guy Justin Bieber.  He does hate it.) He laughs shortly, surprized for some reason that I still make the association.  Apparently he does not know what a mirror is.  "'Bruce Wayne' ...that's good," he says to himself and I wonder if he actually hasn't heard it before.

It's been several weeks (three? four?) since I saw him before tonight and I almost didn't recognize him because he wasn't t-shirt, jeans and ball cap (cos he a country boy) but be-pocketed crisp, white dress shirt, dark jeans, classy belt & shoes and NO ball cap.  I didn't actually know he was a redhead til today.  I call an eyebrow-raised, "Hey!" of late recognition when he emerges from the bathroom.  (I hadn't even seen him go in!) He "hi"s back and begins smirking because he knows exactly why my eyebrows went up.  "You look so different!" I exclaim, rolling up my tongue and looking for a sponge to mop up the drool.  He explains that it was a work conference/meeting-ish thing at the Delta... tells me a bit of what they were discussing and what perks they enjoyed.  He tries to ask for cigarettes but I cut him off rudely saying, "I know, I know," waving my hand dismissively so he can get back to his story.

While I'm making change I put effort into constructing the following sentence: "So... when they were going to start the meeting, did they put the Bat signal in the clouds to call you in?"  The eye-roll smile comes at the term "Bat signal" but his answer is quick and unfazed.  "Yep. That's how they call me in."  Now I'm the one caught off-guard and laughing. Touché, bro.  Touché.

Thank you, goodbye, thank you, etc. and he meanders over to Tim Hortons.  He is there long enough that I serve all my customers and am able to wander over as well.  I ask the woman working there (who I know quite well and would consider a friend), pointing at him, "Who does he look like?" and he does the eye-roll smile again but this time it's much bigger.  He is almost embarrassed.  I am enjoying the part where I'm not intimidated by his handsomeness because I don't expect anything from him.
She says she doesn't know; that she doesn't know movie stars, etc.  I say, "Are you kidding me??" (something I often say to her, actually hahaha) I throw my hands up and lament, "Am I the only one who sees this?"  He chimes in, "She thinks I look like..... What's his name again?"
"Christian Bale," I supply, hopefully.
She disappoints me slightly with her quick, "Who?"
Losing hope I exclaim, "Batman!"
He adds, "She calls me Batman every time I come in here."
Tim Hortons friend doesn't get it - she hasn't really thought about it - but says, "So what?  Batman is hot, man; come on!"
"Now you're talking," he responds (though if I'm honest it seemed slightly forced).

I leave at this point, to serve customers while she heaps it on a little thicker, how attractive she thinks Batman is.  I am not listening because they are overlapping, and there's customers, and there's beeping, and I am surprized he didn't realize til now the sideways compliment.  I do try to toss in my, "That's what I'm sayin!" but it's timid and unconvincing because at the last minute I don't want to be so explicit and my tone wusses out.  [In the moment, a part of me is still able to recognize that my "that's what I'm sayin" Fresh Prince/black person self only comes out once in a blue moon.  It's funny to me when it does cos it's natural but I often surprize myself.]


As he leaves he hollers a "Goodnight, ladies" to both of us.  I note the country-boy cordiality stitched into his DNA. She replies and I don't (because I am not in the habit of talking over people OR returning pleasantries if I can't make them sound genuine).  He speaks again and I assume he's going to repeat himself because my lack of response is rude to him.  But, no.  He says to me, "Have a good night, Catwoman," and is gone before I could even think of a retort.  I laughed so hard.  I threw my head back and laughed.  Couldn't do it for long cos of the shock.  But oh, man.  Did that EVER make my night.  Wow. 




Geez.  I talk about men a lot.

More things happened in this week but it's 00h55 and I need to quit.