So on facebox and my other blog I am always talking about this ADORABLE customer. I call him “the mohawk man” because when I first laid eyes on him he had a mohawk. Then he cut his hair, and sometimes he’ll sport the start of one for a while.
I also sometimes call him “my future husband who doesn’t know it yet.”
Anyway, about a year and a half ago I saw him in the store maybe three times. Of course I was immediately smitten. I went out to the bars one night with a friend from another country whom I had not seen for a long time.
I was busy listening to this friend when behind his head I spotted the mohawk man. He was adorable, and he was with a bunch of his friends. I wanted so bad to go over to him, but I couldn’t do that with my friend and his around. So I just lusted from afar.
A few times, he actually came to the deli counter where I work. He would get a quarter pound of honey maple turkey and a quarter of swiss. He came maybe once every two weeks. I mentioned to him one day that I had seen him at the bar, and asked him what he did for a living, since he had a mohawk. He said he was currently an unemployed construction worker. And he was 34.
I was just making polite conversation as I thought I would have many more chances to try to find out more and flirt with him.
I’m an idiot. He came only sporadically to the deli, and any time he came there was a huge line of customers and I couldn’t talk to him.
Now, he never comes to the deli. Its been at least three months or more since I’ve seen him there. But he goes grocery shopping a few times a week.
I am not stalking him. But I can see what he buys because he always gets the same thing and parks in the same spot. He likes poland spring water, a gallon of skim milk, and strawberries and cream instant oatmeal.
I have been lusting after him for nearly two years now but the fucker always runs through the store. Literally. He always wears his long gym shorts, t shirt, backwards cap, and sneakers. I guess he just stops by after the gym and is still excercising…
Some customers stop and linger in the aisles, ask for things, talk to employees, buy a lot of groceries and price check along the way.
But not my guy. He bolts through the store grabbing the same few items and hopping on the self checkout line. It is impossible to try to talk to him.
If I can, I try to run outside for a cigarette break as soon as I see him in the store. I went through a phase of trying to meet him by walking by him and saying hi. He would look, say hello and keep rushing. Then I started yelling “hello” whenever I saw him nearby. He’d just say hello back and keep rushing.
I’m sure he believes I’m just one of the mentally challenged people who work in the store now. Great job me.
Now you know the back story.
So the other day, I saw him, and I grabbed my cigarettes and ran outside. He always parks to the right of the store in the same spots, and he walks out of he store on the sidewalk, then diagonally crosses at a certain point.
I planned it perfectly. I stood smoking my cigarette next to the pillar right before where he walks into the street and crosses. He would walk right by me, Id say hello, and try to ask his name, if I knew him from somewhere, etc. I had a million things to say to stop him from his energizer bunny gimmick.
After nearly two years, I had the balls and the opportunity. I always end up with just one or the other.
So there I was. He was coming out of the door. I was prepared.
“Mami, you got a smoke for me?” A spanish man stood in front of me and asked. He had three quarters in his hand. He just saw me open a new pack of cigarettes, and he was offering money. If I said no, he would have tried to convince me. It was easier to say yes.
I went in my bag, gave him a cigarette and waited for him to leave.
He started talking in spanish to me, and as I understand very little I just placated him saying “si” and “un pequito espaniol.” He wouldn’t leave. Kept talking, trying to find the right english words, but continuing in spanish anyway. I was polite, it made him very happy.
During this ridiculousness, the mohawk man walked inches away from me.
“Hi!” I yelled in desperation. Great. Back to acting like a retard.
“Hello,” he said as he turned to glance at me and keep walking.
The spanish man kept talking. He is a maintainance man at a hospital. He was off that day. He works hard. I’m a nice girl.
Great. At least he was happy. Goddamn cockblocker.
Maybe it was a sign from God to give up on the mohawk man.
