Crazeyal
05-24-2007, 03:44 AM
Okay...
Another thread made me think of this tale..
THIS happens to be my all-time favorite story. It's ALSO the reason I'm going to hell..
Be VERY appreciative that I choose to risk prison and other nastiness to do so. That and laughing at me BEHIND my back will be appreciated.
:roll:
Here goes..
I had a hobby of playing Live Action Roleplaying games. LARPs never REQUIRED costumes, but it helped the feeling of it. The more immersion you got, the truer the reactions were. People tended to actualy ACT as their character would, rather than just react and play rules-lawyer. The hard part of this was, I had chosen to play an eight foot Elder Gargoyle. I learned a good deal about Medieval armor making and Latex molds from this character. But I had zero budget. Everything I'd made was trial and error, with as little layout as possible. Everything was either converted or found through pawn shops, GoodWill stores and Salvation Army shops.
I actually enjoyed the hunting aspect of it all. trying to find bargains, bartering people down, finding sellers who didn't know or didn't care what they were were selling's REAL worth, as long as you took it OFF THEIR HANDS (and getting that diamond in the rough BEFORE someone else did). But it was ALOT of legwork. After a while you got to know the patterns of the re-sellers and thrift stores. They get donations all the time, they only put new stuff OUT on specific days. Buy enough and the minimum wage personnel at the cash register will let you into the back room to root through the unsorted pile. You usually have to throw them $10 or be a regular to do this. That or you have to be a REAL pest, and they'll break down and let you do it to get RID of you.
Guess which one MY limited budget allowed me to try?
*sigh*
I had a job that made me travel alot. I also got stuck in traffic 4-5 times a day. Sometimes for over an hour. OR .. that's what I'd tell my boss.. I'd use the "stuck in traffic" excuse anytime I ran across a new thrift store that I hadn't plundered. This gave me more variety in junk to sort through, but killed me on the "regular customer" angle. I'd try ANYTHING to get ahead of the "regulars". Alot of them were re-sellers or antique dealers who bought half the store on a regular basis, and sold it at the flea market for triple what they paid. I REALLY hated these people. Any of them that I actually met were usually physically repugnant. I mean they SMELLED BAD! That and they took all the good stuff that I might be able to use!
It got so bad that I started to recognize their vehicles. One time while doing a service call outside of my normal area in New Jersey, I recognized this duct taped puke green Dodge Caravan that I KNEW for a fact belonged to a dealer, though I had NEVER seen the owner. This meant there was either a fast food joint or a thrift store around here, because the guy was reportedly immensely fat. Turns out, there was BOTH! Scooting over to the Thrift store (It was a third type, a charity thrift store for a local hospital cancer ward. These places were either feast or famine, depending on the wealth, generosity and guilt of the local people.. I guess I'd have to go inside and see.) I found it not open for another 15 minutes. Figuring on fatass being in the McDonald's for a pretty short time (not alot of traffic) I knew I'd have to be in the door as soon as it opened.
oh..
yeah..
I was still working...
D'oh!!!
Grabbing a pay-phone, I tried calling the office, but ran into a BIG problem. "Thank you for using Jersey Atlantic Computerized voice: T.w.o. dollars and f.i.f.t.y. Cents DOUBLE D'oh!!!!! This was one of those private pay phones that got the contract for an entire area and RAPED anyone who got caught needing to use a phone away from home (Cell-phones were still a luxury and pretty expensive). I quickly raced to my work van and pulled the seat back. HUZZAH!!! All those times I'd dumped change paying tolls paid off! I had to have at least fifteen bucks in quarters, dimes and nickels. Hell, I'd probably get LUNCH after this!!! (I still do that to this day.. I'm so terrible about that.. My wife calls me a change elemental... ) I run back to the phone with about five minutes to spare.
BRINNNG BRINNNNG
um...
DAMMIT!!!
I'd grabbed the phone without formulating a proper LIE. I wasn't even AT the customer's house, and I might just be a bit late... Of course THIS is the time for the office NOT to be busy and my boss (my DAD) not to be on the phone with a client. Totally at a loss for a story, I was ready to simply confess that I was slacking off, needed to slack off more, and I'd gladly pay him Tuesday for a hamburger today... I get from HIM "Oh.. Ray.. Good thing you checked in.. the customer canceled!" Never being one to miss out on being the martyr, I feigned distress at this development. I complained about the traffic I fought (there was none) I complained about getting lost (I WISHED I'd gotten lost, I find more stores that way! ) annnnnd then I dejectedly said I would LIKE to go to lunch before trudging back to the office. My Dad said there were other calls, and I should hurry up and get back into NY. I lied guiltlessly and said I'd throw some food in my mouth and rush off to face the dragon of NY traffic. To which my father made a comment about my mother taking drugs while pregnant with me or something....
EH... he never GOT the D&D schtuff...
I rush into the place as they are opening up the door! I'm the ONLY customer in here! Then I hear something I just DID not need to hear.... the clerk getting on the phone and calling his boss about the "dealer" being next door QUOTE "Stuffing his face with enough food to feed Ethiopia!" The rest of the conversation was, of course one sided, because I couldn't hear his boss, but I figured he said something about keeping the guy happy and "anything he wants" from the one or two word replies given by the clerk.
How the HELL was I gonna get this guy to show me anything but the $30 couches?? I started looking around, there really wasn't much, perhaps some material for costumes, but I only sewed by hand, pretty badly at that, and already had made an undershirt for the ring-mail. Right now I''d be using up my limited funds by buying fabric. In almost every one of these places, they have a receiving area, and in ALL that have them, there is a P-I-L-E. No other way to describe it. Just mounds and mounds of JUNK. Donated, deeded, and sometimes trashed stuff. I always get 1/10th of the way near this stuff when I hear..
*sigh*.....excuse me sir... STAFF ONLY PLEASE!!!
great... Fatass would be in to rummage any second now... ah well there didn't seem to be much, The re-sellers usually focus on the electronics and furniture, looking for antiques or things to repair and re-furbish.... ??? wait a tic?!?!? A .. KNIFE??? wait .. that's not a knife... that's a
BAYONET?!??!?!?!?
MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE!!!!!!
I'd actually said that %#$#$ING OUT LOUD!!!! geez.... I was ABOUT to go through the WHOLE thing to the clerk, apologize for sounding like a friggen RETARD, and offer him cash for the bayonet, realizing I'd be giving up my drinking money for the weekend, but not caring a WHIT! Before I opened my mouth, the guy let's out an even BIGGER sigh and says to me in a REAL condescending voice "You have to PAY for that... " He takes a moment, collects himself, and speaks in a soft even tone, like he's talking to a three year old " I'm sorry.. WHAT'S your name?? Mine's Jerry.."
OH.. JEEZUS H KAHRIST!!!!
This guy thinks I'm retarded! My look of realization must of looked like one of panic to him, because he starts shushing me and telling me "it's allright!! No-one's mad..." I stop for half a second and remember the hospital that I passed leaving the offramp. There must be a daycare center or an outpatient clinic nearby because this is a conditioned response. THAT's when the role-player in me took over.
Good thing South Park hadn't been invented yet, or I would have just looked at the guy and said "TIMMMAYYYY"
Yup... I pretended to be retarded to get into the back room of a thrift shop..... I was officially POND SCUM!!! Gawd I kept having to BITE my frikken tongue to keep from laughing like a LOON!
At least I didn't LIE to the guy.. well.. any more than allowing HIS misconception to go unchallenged.... "My dady was in da NAAVVVeeeeyyy. He told me story bout him wit a RIFLE and some BAD GUyssssss. He'd be happy if I bought dis for him...."
All true, if not EXACTLY what was going to happen to the thing...
The guy sighed and said he couldn't sell me SHARP things, and I should go over and look at the toys. Now I have dealt with the mentally handicapped before. It's pretty much like dealing with young children, some are well mannered and more intelligent than their reputation or quick assumptions would assume. Almost all that I've personally dealt with are actually decent company, if only requiring a small amount of patience. But just like the majority of children... there are SOME EXCEPTIONS... I've had to deal with them, and it was REAL apparent that this guy had dealt with them too.
I started the body language of what would be a MAJOR shit-fit. I held my breath, pumped blood into my face until I was BEET red, and started stuttering. I I I I....... I KNEW the fatass would be in momentarily and I'd be either ignored or asked to leave. I had what I wanted, I wanted to pay for it, I just needed to convince THIS guy not to sell it to someone else...
I was going to act like a three year old who just had his lollipop stolen....
Like I said, this guy had dealt with this particular salesman's nightmare scenario many times before. He cut me off at the pass by RUNNING into the storeroom and snatching the bayonet like he was Indiana Jones and the giant bowling ball was after him!
"HEREHEREHEREHEREHEREHERE!!!!!" he said to me, almost breaking the glass counter as he slapped it in front of me. He let out an "ooo" as he realized how close he'd come to paying his boss $250 to replace the glass in the front counter cabinet, and then panted a bit from running. I couldn't resist a lilted "ThANk yOu" while reaching for my wallet to pay for the item.
THAT was a bit of a mistake, and a bit of fortune. The mistake was that I offered to buy it without bargaining, the fortune was that the character I was PLAYING wouldn't have bargained. Most of the thrift stores bargain, but you usually have to either be a regular or pull teeth to get them to do it. I didn't have TIME to invest to bargain, and the method I'd used to get THIS far would have precluded it. I ACTAULLY didn't have a CLUE how I was going to deal with this one. The Bayonet wasn't in prime condition, it wasn't some collector's engraved editing, but it would REALLY work with what I wanted to do, and could reasonably command anywhere from 15 - 40 dollars.. I had about 20 on me. Problem was, it was in my wallet, with my DRIVER'S LICENSE and a few other revealing pieces of ID.
At that point it turned into ZEN and the art of antique shopping...
ME: I PAY FOR IT..K?
Clerk: umm okay it costs... *looks around for a book or something*
Me: ???
Clerk: uh... I don't... uh
Me:??!!!!!!!
Clerk: Gulp!!! I uh...
Me: I PAY FOR IT!! NO PROBLEM!!!!
I reach into my pocket, expecting to pull out my wallet, forgetting about the ton of change I had in there, and ....
DOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHH kshhhhhhhh *tink* *tinkle* *tink*
All that change fell out all OVER the floor. The poor guy's face just went from panic, to helplessness, to absolute desire to K-I-L-L. He shook his head for a moment, put on a fake smile, announced "HEY!!! That's JUST the right amount of money!!" He shoves the bayonet into a paper bag, ripping it, not caring in the least, and fairly SHOVES me out the door......
Which is blocked by a BIG FAT GREASY furniture re-seller that stood about 5' tall and four feet wide.
" excUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSe meeeeeeeeeeeeee" I bleat out, totally giddy and out of FRIKKEN control with pent up laughter.
Fatass looks like someone just squeezed his testicles, his eyes fly open like an anime female seeing a dropped towel, and he backed up out of the doorway (My mind providing a truck backing up beeping sound).
I run to my work van and collapse with laughter so hard I was SURE they heard me in the thrift store. A quick look showed me that the door was closed and no-one was looking me way, and my giggles and guffaws re-doubled. I calmed down after a bit, and my conscience kicked in. How could I DO this?? It wasn't right to impersonate someone..uh.. SPECIAL.. but.. OH $#@@#$% IT!!! And I laughed until I thought I would DIE!! god that hurt....
I was actually REALLY pushing the "lunchtime" bit, so I figured I'd grab some Mickie D's and beat feet back to NY. I did just that, with just a bit left over for Friday night drinks (I'd have to hit the cash machine, but it was still enough for the first round). As I'm driving out, the thrift store guy picks JUST THEN to look out his door. The utter look of TERROR in his face told me he was thinking " OH MY #@#$@# GOD!!! HE'S $#@$ DRIVING?!?!?!?!?!!?" :eek::eek:
I just couldn't resist it...
I rolled down the window and called out "BYE MISTAH MANNNNN!!" Waved like a spastic two year old and left the parking lot alternating between the brake, the gas, and the left turn signal... while taking a right turn....
GOD.. I'm SOOOOO going to hell.....
:devil::devil::devil:
Another thread made me think of this tale..
THIS happens to be my all-time favorite story. It's ALSO the reason I'm going to hell..
Be VERY appreciative that I choose to risk prison and other nastiness to do so. That and laughing at me BEHIND my back will be appreciated.
:roll:
Here goes..
I had a hobby of playing Live Action Roleplaying games. LARPs never REQUIRED costumes, but it helped the feeling of it. The more immersion you got, the truer the reactions were. People tended to actualy ACT as their character would, rather than just react and play rules-lawyer. The hard part of this was, I had chosen to play an eight foot Elder Gargoyle. I learned a good deal about Medieval armor making and Latex molds from this character. But I had zero budget. Everything I'd made was trial and error, with as little layout as possible. Everything was either converted or found through pawn shops, GoodWill stores and Salvation Army shops.
I actually enjoyed the hunting aspect of it all. trying to find bargains, bartering people down, finding sellers who didn't know or didn't care what they were were selling's REAL worth, as long as you took it OFF THEIR HANDS (and getting that diamond in the rough BEFORE someone else did). But it was ALOT of legwork. After a while you got to know the patterns of the re-sellers and thrift stores. They get donations all the time, they only put new stuff OUT on specific days. Buy enough and the minimum wage personnel at the cash register will let you into the back room to root through the unsorted pile. You usually have to throw them $10 or be a regular to do this. That or you have to be a REAL pest, and they'll break down and let you do it to get RID of you.
Guess which one MY limited budget allowed me to try?
*sigh*
I had a job that made me travel alot. I also got stuck in traffic 4-5 times a day. Sometimes for over an hour. OR .. that's what I'd tell my boss.. I'd use the "stuck in traffic" excuse anytime I ran across a new thrift store that I hadn't plundered. This gave me more variety in junk to sort through, but killed me on the "regular customer" angle. I'd try ANYTHING to get ahead of the "regulars". Alot of them were re-sellers or antique dealers who bought half the store on a regular basis, and sold it at the flea market for triple what they paid. I REALLY hated these people. Any of them that I actually met were usually physically repugnant. I mean they SMELLED BAD! That and they took all the good stuff that I might be able to use!
It got so bad that I started to recognize their vehicles. One time while doing a service call outside of my normal area in New Jersey, I recognized this duct taped puke green Dodge Caravan that I KNEW for a fact belonged to a dealer, though I had NEVER seen the owner. This meant there was either a fast food joint or a thrift store around here, because the guy was reportedly immensely fat. Turns out, there was BOTH! Scooting over to the Thrift store (It was a third type, a charity thrift store for a local hospital cancer ward. These places were either feast or famine, depending on the wealth, generosity and guilt of the local people.. I guess I'd have to go inside and see.) I found it not open for another 15 minutes. Figuring on fatass being in the McDonald's for a pretty short time (not alot of traffic) I knew I'd have to be in the door as soon as it opened.
oh..
yeah..
I was still working...
D'oh!!!
Grabbing a pay-phone, I tried calling the office, but ran into a BIG problem. "Thank you for using Jersey Atlantic Computerized voice: T.w.o. dollars and f.i.f.t.y. Cents DOUBLE D'oh!!!!! This was one of those private pay phones that got the contract for an entire area and RAPED anyone who got caught needing to use a phone away from home (Cell-phones were still a luxury and pretty expensive). I quickly raced to my work van and pulled the seat back. HUZZAH!!! All those times I'd dumped change paying tolls paid off! I had to have at least fifteen bucks in quarters, dimes and nickels. Hell, I'd probably get LUNCH after this!!! (I still do that to this day.. I'm so terrible about that.. My wife calls me a change elemental... ) I run back to the phone with about five minutes to spare.
BRINNNG BRINNNNG
um...
DAMMIT!!!
I'd grabbed the phone without formulating a proper LIE. I wasn't even AT the customer's house, and I might just be a bit late... Of course THIS is the time for the office NOT to be busy and my boss (my DAD) not to be on the phone with a client. Totally at a loss for a story, I was ready to simply confess that I was slacking off, needed to slack off more, and I'd gladly pay him Tuesday for a hamburger today... I get from HIM "Oh.. Ray.. Good thing you checked in.. the customer canceled!" Never being one to miss out on being the martyr, I feigned distress at this development. I complained about the traffic I fought (there was none) I complained about getting lost (I WISHED I'd gotten lost, I find more stores that way! ) annnnnd then I dejectedly said I would LIKE to go to lunch before trudging back to the office. My Dad said there were other calls, and I should hurry up and get back into NY. I lied guiltlessly and said I'd throw some food in my mouth and rush off to face the dragon of NY traffic. To which my father made a comment about my mother taking drugs while pregnant with me or something....
EH... he never GOT the D&D schtuff...
I rush into the place as they are opening up the door! I'm the ONLY customer in here! Then I hear something I just DID not need to hear.... the clerk getting on the phone and calling his boss about the "dealer" being next door QUOTE "Stuffing his face with enough food to feed Ethiopia!" The rest of the conversation was, of course one sided, because I couldn't hear his boss, but I figured he said something about keeping the guy happy and "anything he wants" from the one or two word replies given by the clerk.
How the HELL was I gonna get this guy to show me anything but the $30 couches?? I started looking around, there really wasn't much, perhaps some material for costumes, but I only sewed by hand, pretty badly at that, and already had made an undershirt for the ring-mail. Right now I''d be using up my limited funds by buying fabric. In almost every one of these places, they have a receiving area, and in ALL that have them, there is a P-I-L-E. No other way to describe it. Just mounds and mounds of JUNK. Donated, deeded, and sometimes trashed stuff. I always get 1/10th of the way near this stuff when I hear..
*sigh*.....excuse me sir... STAFF ONLY PLEASE!!!
great... Fatass would be in to rummage any second now... ah well there didn't seem to be much, The re-sellers usually focus on the electronics and furniture, looking for antiques or things to repair and re-furbish.... ??? wait a tic?!?!? A .. KNIFE??? wait .. that's not a knife... that's a
BAYONET?!??!?!?!?
MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE!!!!!!
I'd actually said that %#$#$ING OUT LOUD!!!! geez.... I was ABOUT to go through the WHOLE thing to the clerk, apologize for sounding like a friggen RETARD, and offer him cash for the bayonet, realizing I'd be giving up my drinking money for the weekend, but not caring a WHIT! Before I opened my mouth, the guy let's out an even BIGGER sigh and says to me in a REAL condescending voice "You have to PAY for that... " He takes a moment, collects himself, and speaks in a soft even tone, like he's talking to a three year old " I'm sorry.. WHAT'S your name?? Mine's Jerry.."
OH.. JEEZUS H KAHRIST!!!!
This guy thinks I'm retarded! My look of realization must of looked like one of panic to him, because he starts shushing me and telling me "it's allright!! No-one's mad..." I stop for half a second and remember the hospital that I passed leaving the offramp. There must be a daycare center or an outpatient clinic nearby because this is a conditioned response. THAT's when the role-player in me took over.
Good thing South Park hadn't been invented yet, or I would have just looked at the guy and said "TIMMMAYYYY"
Yup... I pretended to be retarded to get into the back room of a thrift shop..... I was officially POND SCUM!!! Gawd I kept having to BITE my frikken tongue to keep from laughing like a LOON!
At least I didn't LIE to the guy.. well.. any more than allowing HIS misconception to go unchallenged.... "My dady was in da NAAVVVeeeeyyy. He told me story bout him wit a RIFLE and some BAD GUyssssss. He'd be happy if I bought dis for him...."
All true, if not EXACTLY what was going to happen to the thing...
The guy sighed and said he couldn't sell me SHARP things, and I should go over and look at the toys. Now I have dealt with the mentally handicapped before. It's pretty much like dealing with young children, some are well mannered and more intelligent than their reputation or quick assumptions would assume. Almost all that I've personally dealt with are actually decent company, if only requiring a small amount of patience. But just like the majority of children... there are SOME EXCEPTIONS... I've had to deal with them, and it was REAL apparent that this guy had dealt with them too.
I started the body language of what would be a MAJOR shit-fit. I held my breath, pumped blood into my face until I was BEET red, and started stuttering. I I I I....... I KNEW the fatass would be in momentarily and I'd be either ignored or asked to leave. I had what I wanted, I wanted to pay for it, I just needed to convince THIS guy not to sell it to someone else...
I was going to act like a three year old who just had his lollipop stolen....
Like I said, this guy had dealt with this particular salesman's nightmare scenario many times before. He cut me off at the pass by RUNNING into the storeroom and snatching the bayonet like he was Indiana Jones and the giant bowling ball was after him!
"HEREHEREHEREHEREHEREHERE!!!!!" he said to me, almost breaking the glass counter as he slapped it in front of me. He let out an "ooo" as he realized how close he'd come to paying his boss $250 to replace the glass in the front counter cabinet, and then panted a bit from running. I couldn't resist a lilted "ThANk yOu" while reaching for my wallet to pay for the item.
THAT was a bit of a mistake, and a bit of fortune. The mistake was that I offered to buy it without bargaining, the fortune was that the character I was PLAYING wouldn't have bargained. Most of the thrift stores bargain, but you usually have to either be a regular or pull teeth to get them to do it. I didn't have TIME to invest to bargain, and the method I'd used to get THIS far would have precluded it. I ACTAULLY didn't have a CLUE how I was going to deal with this one. The Bayonet wasn't in prime condition, it wasn't some collector's engraved editing, but it would REALLY work with what I wanted to do, and could reasonably command anywhere from 15 - 40 dollars.. I had about 20 on me. Problem was, it was in my wallet, with my DRIVER'S LICENSE and a few other revealing pieces of ID.
At that point it turned into ZEN and the art of antique shopping...
ME: I PAY FOR IT..K?
Clerk: umm okay it costs... *looks around for a book or something*
Me: ???
Clerk: uh... I don't... uh
Me:??!!!!!!!
Clerk: Gulp!!! I uh...
Me: I PAY FOR IT!! NO PROBLEM!!!!
I reach into my pocket, expecting to pull out my wallet, forgetting about the ton of change I had in there, and ....
DOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHH kshhhhhhhh *tink* *tinkle* *tink*
All that change fell out all OVER the floor. The poor guy's face just went from panic, to helplessness, to absolute desire to K-I-L-L. He shook his head for a moment, put on a fake smile, announced "HEY!!! That's JUST the right amount of money!!" He shoves the bayonet into a paper bag, ripping it, not caring in the least, and fairly SHOVES me out the door......
Which is blocked by a BIG FAT GREASY furniture re-seller that stood about 5' tall and four feet wide.
" excUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSe meeeeeeeeeeeeee" I bleat out, totally giddy and out of FRIKKEN control with pent up laughter.
Fatass looks like someone just squeezed his testicles, his eyes fly open like an anime female seeing a dropped towel, and he backed up out of the doorway (My mind providing a truck backing up beeping sound).
I run to my work van and collapse with laughter so hard I was SURE they heard me in the thrift store. A quick look showed me that the door was closed and no-one was looking me way, and my giggles and guffaws re-doubled. I calmed down after a bit, and my conscience kicked in. How could I DO this?? It wasn't right to impersonate someone..uh.. SPECIAL.. but.. OH $#@@#$% IT!!! And I laughed until I thought I would DIE!! god that hurt....
I was actually REALLY pushing the "lunchtime" bit, so I figured I'd grab some Mickie D's and beat feet back to NY. I did just that, with just a bit left over for Friday night drinks (I'd have to hit the cash machine, but it was still enough for the first round). As I'm driving out, the thrift store guy picks JUST THEN to look out his door. The utter look of TERROR in his face told me he was thinking " OH MY #@#$@# GOD!!! HE'S $#@$ DRIVING?!?!?!?!?!!?" :eek::eek:
I just couldn't resist it...
I rolled down the window and called out "BYE MISTAH MANNNNN!!" Waved like a spastic two year old and left the parking lot alternating between the brake, the gas, and the left turn signal... while taking a right turn....
GOD.. I'm SOOOOO going to hell.....
:devil::devil::devil: