That would be the guy I had last night. I work a gas station. He was fucked up on something (I never smelled alcohol) and took his time browsing while trying to talk to me over the store. I just occasionally went 'uhuh' since I never actually understood what he said. He got his shit, got to the counter and basically had to hold his hand though the transaction. The only reason I didn't call the cops was because he was a passenger and the person driving seemed straight. He gets his bag and retreats back to the car he's riding in before returning. This happens four separate times. On the final trip, he buys some rubbers. "Aye, mane, baby, can I get yo direct connect?" he asks me in the modern drunk tongue. I say no. And he's confused. "Mane, when did you start here??!?1/?!" he asks me suddenly as he hands me three crusty dollars. "Christmas," I say. "Naw man shit, you ain't start at Christmas my boy Dereke was working," he says as I distinctly remember working on Christmas and getting pitied several times for working a holiday. "No," I simply say. I remember him muttering 'stupid bitch' as I handed him his change. "Yo can I get yo number?" he asked again, not remembering the previous rejection. I reiterate my response. "Goddamn!" he says as he snatches the bag away in a dramatic fashion. He turns to leave, his eyes glazing over as he spotts the lottery case. "Gimme a number fifteen," he says as he throws his change on the table before finally taking his shit and leaving.

He came in again today with his bitch and acted like nothing happened.