At my job, it is customary to take over for an employee who is helping out in your department once you are free. I'm usually very observant when it comes to noticing a fellow employee in need of assistance. I ran into what I thought was a co-worker in dire need of someone knowledgeable in speakers today. Little did I know I mistook his look of fright for confusion..
The first indication this man was borderline insane should have been the fact that he brought in a stack of CDs to listen to in our system. As I approached my co-worker, the customer began swaying back and forth and air drumming. When I asked if he had some questions about our speakers, his reply was something along the lines of, "You would never have guessed this was off vinyl, would you? WOULD YOU?" Me: "Uh...no?" Thus began the longest hour of my life. Yes. Hour. HOUR.
As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to listen to bootleg live Deep Purple, this man also had a horrible concept of personal space etiquette. Look, dude, if I don't know you, the appropriate length to stand away from me is at LEAST 5 feet. Unless you're hot. He was not.
Oh. Did you catch the "bootleg live Deep Purple" part? If not, let me reiterate. Live. Deep. Purple. Have you heard a live album by any classic rock band?! Every song is around 15 minutes with 10 minutes of drum solo. I'm not sure how many drum solos you have heard, but NONE of them, and I do mean NONE are impressive if they last longer than a minute. Drummers are hot and all, but you're not soloists. Unless you're Travis Barker. Again, he was not.
The music, the personal space issues, and lest we forget the commentary. About every 10 seconds he would spout gems like, "Oh. Listen. Listen to this. Isn't that great? You would never hear anything like this on a new cd. Would you? WOULD YOU? No. You wouldn't. This guy. This guy that made this for me. It's an original vinyl. You wouldn't ever guess it's vinyl. Let me tell you how he did it." Dude, I don't fucking care. You are creepy. Unfortunately, when I don that blue shirt, I feel obligated to fain interest. Probably the worst decision I've made in awhile.
This went on, like I said, for an HOUR. An hour of my life I will never get back. An hour of drum solos. Classic rock drum solos. And air drumming. And commentary. When I was seriously contemplating slitting my wrists with the dull box cutter in my back pocket, a poor innocent bystander was roped into his craziness. I walked away. Yep. Just walked away. What else could I do? Next time I see a 50 something holding burned CDs hanging out in my department, I am running the other way.
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