So I get a call from a "gentleman" who needs a service call on the device that we sell. It's broken, I confirm it, and I start to set up an appointment for a technician to go out there. As I'm doing this, the guy continues to talk. He's prattling on about the truck that he's got, and all the work that's been done on it. Spotlights, strobe lights, a lift kit, custom paint, a TV, a PS3...... On and on and on and on. I'm just responding in the most inane and banal way possible, focusing on the work that I'm doing so that I can get off the phone with this tool.
After a few minutes of rambling about his truck, he then says that he's not done with it, and that he's got a list of things that he'd like to do with it. "But of course, if I had the kind of money to really do what I wanted to with it, I probably wouldn't be talking to you, no offense. I'd have my flunkies handling this." "Mmmm," says I.
And then he keeps going. "In fact, if I had that kind of money, I probably wouldn't even be living in Amurica (sic) at this point. Do you realize how expensive cost of living is here compared to other places in the world?" "Mmmm," says I. Of course, there is a reason why those places are so much cheaper to live in, and it mostly has to do with the fact that, nearly without exception, they're hellholes, the armpits of the Earth. But I'm not going to tell this guy about that. I'm not going to explain to him that living like a king in Nicaragua is usually reserved for drug cartels and corrupt government officials...... and they don't usually like competition. Actually, if we're all lucky enough, maybe he'll end up in one of those charming, quaint, third-world warzones..... er..... Central American utopias, and have a lovely experience with some of the local.... characters. You know the ones. They usually look like this guy:
That's from the movie Machete, which to my understanding is a reasonably accurate depiction of life in Central America. But moving on. He then continues to expound upon what it's like to live in such a wonderful place. "I mean, for the same money that would buy you a nice lifestyle here, you can live like a God there! I mean, you can get away with anything! And if anyone has a problem, just slip 'em a few Benjamins, and your problem goes away! It's awesome! You can do whatever you want! Anything! At all!" He then giggles like he's in the middle of a manic episode while doing a line of blow off the stomach of.... well, you get the point.
He then says the following, which changed my mood from "Man, I want to get off the phone with this douche" to wanting to reach through the phone and pummel him with something hard, heavy, sharp, and possibly on fire: "I mean, all that you need to do is clap your hands and say 'This 15 year old isn't good enough! Bring me another...... and her sister!' And then they'll do it!" And then he giggles again.
Now, other than the obvious disapproval that I harbor for people who enjoy sex with underage girls, I have a few problems with this statement. One: This asshole doesn't even know me. That makes what he said to me the equivalent of me going up to some random person on the street and saying "Hi, my name's Grubbs, and I like having threesomes with pubescent girls." Now, maybe it's just me, but even if that is the way that I swing, I like to think that I'm smart enough not to TELL anyone that. So not only is he a douche and a pedo, but he's also a dumb-ass. Seriously, he's lucky it was just me he was talking to. It could have been much, much worse for him:
Two: Not only is he a douche, a pedo, and a dumb-ass, but he's also a chickenshit. Hear me out on this. If you're going to say something like that, either go for the gold or shut the hell up. I mean, he said fifteen year olds. which is two years away from being legal (in Georgia, at least). That means that he could have said seventeen year olds, and still maintained the level of creepy that he was going for but, and this is important, he wouldn't have been a pedophile. Just a fuckin' weirdo. On the other hand, were he truly a dedicated whackjob, he should have just gone for it, said what we all know that he was thinking, and told me that he prefers twelve year olds.
Ugh. Having worked in a variety of jobs over the years, I've dealt with my share of customers who are, as we say, a special kind of crazy. But with one exception (the infamous "she's a naughty little girl" creep, the story of which will probably be told at a later date), this particular asshat might just be the worst of the bunch. There is something seriously, seriously wrong with people.
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