Saturday's Idiots.

Please note: I am making none of this up.

11:07am

Me: "Bud, can I answer any questions for you?"

Overweight Dumbass: "Yeah, I was wondering...this XXL jacket fits me.  But I plan on losing weight.  Will it still fit me then?"

Me: Laughing, "No." 

1:42pm

As I am explaining the ins & outs of every feature of a backpack to a customer, another customer-- obviously some sort of football coach wannabe, extremely intense with every move he makes, college football jacket on (he's 65yrs old), pissed at God for giving him three daughters, interrupts me.  "Is this a good pack!?"  Staring me down with a menacing scowl and interrogator's tone, certain that his intimidation will yield zero bullshit from me, as I break down in a panic apologizing for my store carrying such a substandard piece of outdoor equipment, and me trying to push inadequacy onto unsuspecting consumers.

Laughing, "It's swell."  I walk off.

3:15pm

Fucktard: "Hey, will this backpack fit my wife?"  His tone indicating that he hates me, his wife, the fact that he's not with his old frat buddies doing cocaine, backpacks...

Me: "I'm not sure.  Where's your wife?"

Fucktard:  "She's not here.  This is a present."  Getting even more annoyed.

Me: "Wellll, the pack has two different torso lengths.  Medium is 15 inches, and large is 17 inches.  Any clue what hers might be?" 

Fucktard:  "No!"  Disgusted that I would ask.

Me:  "Okay, how tall is she?  We could take a stab at it based on that."

Fucktard:  "I don't know!  She's as tall as women are!"  Very impatient and irritable.

Me:  "Would you say she's this tall (I put my hand out flat, about nipple high.)?  Or is she more this tall (I hold my hand out about five inches above my own head.)?  Somewhere in between, possibly?"  At this point, I'm more or less treating him like a three year old.

Fucktard:  "Somewhere in the middle!  I don't know!!"  Just rude.

Me:  "No.  It won't fit her.  Sorry."  I walk away.