I’ve done business there for the better part of ten years.

He’s been there all that time, and, judging from little comments here and there, was probably there a long time before I ever came in.

The first time I did business with him I was almost sat back on my heels by his behind-the-counter behavior.

I wasn’t sure I had ever met a more unfriendly, gruff, or crude person.

I decided, as I left the place, that surely it was a one-time deal; I couldn’t see him keeping his job if it wasn’t.

But I found out the next several times I was in there that it wasn’t a once only deal.

When I meet someone like him, I think I respond in one of two ways.

I am either freaked out or feel so defeated that I make every effort to keep out of their way in the future, or, my interest is piqued and I wish to see what makes them tick.

After seeing another contractor getting the same treatment and handing it right back without too many bruises, either verbally or otherwise, I decided to take on the challenge of him.

I started small.

I began by being thankful for his service and, when it didn’t seem too intrusive, I tried to understand what made him happy.

Through the years I’ve found out that he—

Likes to gamble and is confoundingly lucky with it.

Likes mini coupers.  Especially black supercharged mini coupers.

Likes cigarettes.  Two packs per day, twenty per pack.

Likes L.A., and if he had the money, he’d move back there in a heartbeat.

Likes Taco Bell and Subway.

Likes guns. Assault rifles.

Likes women and thinks he has what it takes to charm them.

I’ve also learned that—

He had a very severe case of Meniere’s disease; so bad that he was rendered helpless on several occasions and once had to crawl from where the bus dropped him off by the exit off the interstate to the hospital.

He had to have surgery to eliminate the Meniere’s disease, but it left him deaf in one ear.

He was the oldest of 7 children, and, due to the disappearance of his dad, had to help with the raising of all his younger siblings.

He had to change his sibling’s diapers, and that was when they still wore cloth diapers, and then he was responsible for washing out the diapers and hanging them on the line to dry.

He is the fastest one to get my parts, if he is in a good mood.

He’ll say they don’t have or are out of stock of what I need, even if they do have it, if he is in a bad mood, leaving me helpless on the wrong side of the counter.

He has no scruples talking bad about or making fun of me behind my back, even when my back isn’t turned.

*****

Ten years is enough time to learn to recognize the subtle innuendos emanating from him when he is having a bad day, and I’ll give him space.

On his good days, I’ll give him a bit of a bad time about sharing his gambling earnings with me, or ask when in the world he is going to have surgery for that bad knee of his, or caution him about eating too much Taco Bell due to its explosive nature.

I could tell he liked my teasing by the way he handed it back to me and others with the rarest of twinkles in his faded old eyes.

I guess, though, that I’d need some psychiatrist to explain to me why I’m feeling the way I am about things today.

I walked in the other day with only two items I needed, and I knew about where they were in back, that it wasn’t too far for him to walk and in a jiffy, I’d be out of there.

Maybe that is why I missed all the signs, if there were indeed signs, because my order was so small, and I knew it wouldn’t inconvenience him to get it for me.

I sat in silence for a bit while he entered what I needed into his computer and then, still dialed in to what seemed big in my small world, I asked him why he didn’t have to wear glasses.

And the floodgates burst open.

I was deluged in four letter words that started with s, f, and a.

I was asked if I had anything at all for a brain in, again with very descriptive words, that head of mine.

For a moment I was too stunned to reply, and that is probably a good thing.

The next moment had me wondering if I should walk out.

Finally, I pulled together what little remaining self-worth I had and sat quietly, waiting for the storm to blow its fury out.

When it finally did, I gathered my two items, thanked him for helping me, and walked out.

*****

I dunno.

How should a person feel after something like that?

I felt sick, angry, and offended all at once.

For a few hours, I really had to talk to myself to keep from calling his manager and telling them what I thought of it all and where I thought he needed to go.

Each time I go in there, now, I hope like everything someone else will be at the counter to help me and that I won’t have to use him.

Regarding this incident, I think back often to a certain blog post by Seth Godin where he says,

“When in doubt, look for fear.  When someone acts in a surprising way, we can begin to understand by wondering what they might be afraid of.”

That helps to put it into perspective, but it doesn’t take the sting out of it.

Did I become too invested in the ten years previous?  Maybe, but I almost doubt it, because I could see early on that he and I would never click.

Do I feel offended because I wasn’t offered a fair trade for the efforts I made to make his world a bit of a happier place?  Again, maybe, but on the other hand, I couldn’t ever really tell that I was making a difference.

Perhaps it’s the injustice of being blindsided without warning in relation to a comment I didn’t feel was worthy of a fight.

I’ll keep going in there for product, because I have to.

Nevertheless, I certainly know a little bit better how I want my employees to treat any customer of ours, regardless of what kind of day they are having.