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16 July 2009 @ 03:58 pm
Crazy Horse  
Five and a half feet of pure, unwashed crazypants. One day I reported for duty and found him standing near the counter, rolling a cigarette and humming to himself. Everything about this man screams 'I'm homeless and I failed my last sanity check! I will KILL YOU while your BACK IS TURNED and FEED YOU to the DARK GODS of MAD DOG 2020.'

Now, before I proceed, please understand that I have a lot of sympathy toward the homeless. I don't immediately assume that they are all batshit insane, and I help them when I can, but that doesn't change the fact that this is a retail environment with an exceptionally edgy, socially-awkward customer base.  If they feel threatened or troubled in any way, they disappear pretty quickly...we also have families and children here, and parents don't take well to seeing that in their favorite family-friendly store.

So he's standing around talking to the clerks...it's sort of a half-coherent mumble from what I can tell, and although some of the other geekslaves are okay with him, either because they are benevolent in a deep and meaningful way (Lulz is one of these kind souls) or because they want to seem 'edgy' (Beastie is one such person).  It's hot outside, I know that, and I feel bad, but at the same time, when one of our biggest spenders walks up quietly to Pink and asks, 'Is that man here often?  I'm not comfortable with leaving my child here....' a choice has to be made.

Now, as much as I feel slightly guilty for turning him out, there are other factors to be considered.  The health and safety of staff and customers.  The guy has open wounds on his forearm, a bandage oozing through with something too disturbingly yellowish to be blood.  My sense of smell is pretty keen, and there was the distinct smell of infection whenever he passed - so with swelling, uncovered, oozing wounds on one hand, my first concern is that he could be leaving staph on the surfaces he touches.  Maybe the other Geekslaves laughed at us for doing it, but both Pink and I took to sterilizing anything he touched on his way out...I have no desire to collect any more viral/bactieral 'presents' than we already get.

I like my extremities, especially my fingers, well enough not to risk them.  There's just something about the idea of them rotting off that sets me on edge. 

But, of course, it doesn't end there.  We tried to be nice, we told Crazy Horse that he couldn't come back into the store, that if he did, we'd have to call the police...so the morning shift made it very clear.  The Lamb and the Cajun were not to be disobeyed...so instead of getting the point and fucking off, he'd wait and watch until both the Lamb and Cajun had left, and then creep back to the store, expecting the evening staff that were 'cool' with him to be sympathetic.

He finally realized what was going on, and he stopped visiting, but the other night we saw him, like a distant, scraggly shark, hanging out in the parking lot...so this might not be the end of...Crazy Horse.