Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Nature Abhors a Vacuum.

We have five large red carpets throughout the store. One of my many nightly duties is to vacuum them, roll them up, mop the floor and put them back down when the floor is dry.

Customers track in different tidbits of the natural world during various seasons: In the winter and spring the carpets are covered in water and mud. In early summer it's sticky little white cottonwood seeds. Later they are splattered with the dead bodies of moths that gather at night by the thousands, swirling around the outside lights, entering the store every time the doors open. In Autumn it's the yellow fallen leaves of nearby Norway maples and cottonwoods. 

Aristotle famously said that nature abhors a vacuum. 

But I have no choice.

Selective memory

An exceptionally good-looking young guy wearing a cuttoff T-shirt comes into the store to buy beer. As I am ringing it up he pulls out his driver's license and asks if I need to see his I.D.

"No, I remember you from last week"
"Wow," he says. "You have a good memory. I'm impressed."
"Thanks."

The young women who was in line behind him is also buying beer. I ask to see her I.D.

"What?!," she teases. "I buy beer here every night and you don't remember me?"

I shrug my shoulders and smile. "Sorry, I have selective memory."

She looks outside at the guy (who is now getting in his car), glances back at me, looks as if a light just went on, and says,

"Aaaaah! I see! Well, you have good taste."
"Thanks."

Nicotine for the fetus.

A very pregnant woman comes into the store, stressed and excited, and says she is going into labor and headed to the hospital. She buys a pack of Camel Menthol Silvers.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be in the hospital," she says. "It could be my last chance to smoke for awhile."

Two halves equal two? (How to double your money!)

An odd guy I assume is homeless brings a cup of coffee and a snack to the register and I ring it up: $1.98. He hands me what I at first think is $2.00 but it's a dollar bill ripped in half.

ME: "Do you have another dollar?"
ODD GUY: "That is two."
ME: "No, sorry, but it's two halves of one."
ODD GUY: "The law says it's still a valid dollar if at least half remains."
ME: "That can't be true, it would have to be more than half don't you think?"
ODD GUY: "No, half is still good."
ME: "So I could tear hundred dollar bills in half to make them worth $200. and double my money?"
ODD GUY: "I guess so."
ME: "You could teach Warren Buffet a thing or two!"


He smiles. Awkward silence.

ME: "Look, I was getting ready to dump the coffee soon and clean the pots. Take it, and keep your dollar . . .or two. The candy's on me."
ODD GUY: "Thank you, Sir!"
ME: "No problem, have a great night."

"My girlfriend left me."

Conversation with a Customer:

ME: "Hey, how are you tonight?"
CUSTOMER: "My girlfriend left me."
ME: "Sorry to hear."
CUSTOMER: "I'm thinking of moving to Tennessee."
ME: "Cool. Tennessee is a nice state. What part of Tennessee?"
CUSTOMER: "I went to an AA meeting tonight."
ME: "Oh, cool. Good for you. I am very familiar with the 12-step program. It's a great program."
CUSTOMER: "I found a place I can buy movies for only $5.00."
ME: "That sounds like a pretty good deal, hey?"
CUSTOMER: "I miss my father."
ME: "I know what you mean. I miss my father a lot too."
CUSTOMER: "What time is it?"
ME: "3:15"
CUSTOMER: "Too late to buy beer?"
ME: "Yes."
CUSTOMER: "I should go home."
ME: "Have a good night."

"That's a douche-bag thing to do."

A Missoula police officer comes in. He's a regular; seems like a nice guy. He buys Gatorade and some gum. While I'm ringing him up at the register another regular customer comes in and heads to the beer cooler. I notice the cop keeps glancing at the guy.

When the policeman leaves the other guy comes up to the register.

"That guy's an asshole," he says.
"How so?" I ask.
"He's the cop who gave me my 4th DUI."
"Were you driving drunk?" I ask.
"Yeah, but he pulled me over right in front of my house. I was almost home. That's a douche-bag thing to do."

Bowseason is upon us!

4:00-5:00 AM:

Bowseason is upon us. The rednecks arrive at the store early, filling up their big gas-guzzling trucks, some towing trailers with ATVS, buying cigarettes, Copenhagen and coffee, dressed in their camouflage hunting clothes absorbing all manner of human scent before they head off to the mountains, some complaining that I can’t sell them beer before 8:00 am, others claiming that the “damn wolves” have eaten all “their” elk because they didn’t see any along the road yesterday . . .

Such is the pitifully sad and not completely inaccurate public image of hunters and hunting. I'm sure business at the new Missoula Cabela's is booming . . . next week is "NRA Week" at Cabela's.

Meanwhile, of course, the few real hunters who still exist are far out of public sight and sound, stealthily stalking wild wapiti in the backcountry.

"A scientific fact" (Smoking's not bad for you)

CUSTOMER: "Do you have a cigarette I can bum?"
ME: "Sorry, I quit . . . broke free!"
CUSTOMER: "Why?"
ME: "Not good for me . . . I'd rather not die of lung cancer."
CUSTOMER: "That's a myth."
ME: "A myth?"
CUSTOMER: "If you smoke in moderation there's nothing bad about it."
ME: "What is moderation?"
CUSTOMER: "Ten a day."
ME: "So half a pack a day is good?"
CUSTOMER: "No harm in it."
ME: "I have a difficult time believing that."
CUSTOMER: "It's a scientific fact. Research and science proves it."
ME: "Where did you hear that?"
CUSTOMER: "On the radio."

Thank a veteran?

GROUCHY OLD MAN: "Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble."
ME: "I'm sorry, what's that?"
GROUCHY OLD MAN: "A pack of Camel mumble, mumble, mumble."
ME: "Camels? Filters? Blues? Which ones?"
GROUCHY OLD MAN: "I SAID CAMEL FILTERS! . . . ARE YOU DEAF?"
ME: "Well, as a matter of fact, my hearing is not so good."
GROUCHY OLD MAN: "Or maybe you should clean the fucking wax out of your ears."
ME: "I tried that. It didn't work. I'm quite certain it's not wax; the Marine Corps did a job on my hearing."
GROUCHY OLD MAN: "Well maybe you should get a job where you don't have to work with people."
ME: "Thanks for the good, kind advice; I will take that under advisement for sure!"

Grouchy old man gives me a grouchy look and leaves. As he pulls out of the parking lot in his Ford Ranger I notice an American Flag decal on his truck along with two bumper stickers:

"SUPPORT OUR TROOPS," and "THANK A VETERAN."

"I need the extra large, you know what I mean?"

A tall, handsome young black guy comes in at about 2:30 a.m. looking for condoms. I show him where they are.

TALL HANDSOME BLACK GUY: "Is this all you got?"
ME: "Yes, that's it."
TALL HANDSOME BLACK GUY: "I need the extra large, you know what I mean?"
ME: "Yes. I know what you mean, but that's all we have, sorry."
TALL HANDSOME BLACK GUY: "I fit the stereotype, my man, you know what I'm saying?"
ME: "Yes. Yes I do. I do indeed know what your saying."
TALL HANDSOME BLACK GUY: "Well damn, what am I supposed to do now?"
ME: "I don't know . . . but believe me when I say: I really wish I could help you out."

Men's jeans and a KYNG condom

Aside from the usual assortment of cigarette butts, candy wrappers, beer cans and pop bottles, here are a few other things I have found while cleaning up the parking lot in the wee dark hours of morning:

A dirty diaper.
A wallet.
A car floor mat covered in vomit.
A carton of eggs and loaf of bread.
A torn-up Marine Corps recruiter card.
A pillow.
A red Nike running shoe, men’s size 10-1/2.
A car bumper.
An IPhone.
A bike tire.
A crinkled up “Dear John” letter.
A whitetail deer head (I called the game warden).
A Duncan YoYo.

Yesterday morning I found a nice pair of men’s jeans laying near the picnic table, size 31/34, with a Lifestyle KYNG ribbed condom in the left back pocket. I kind of want to meet whoever lost them.
I figure he either had a really rough night or a really good night.

No school daze

There's a really nice, polite, smart young kid who stops by the store every Monday morning to buy a muffin and some orange juice on his walk to school.

This morning he stopped by carrying his book bag.
ME: "You have School today?"
KID: "Well yeah, it's Monday."
ME: "My son has the day off. There's some sort of teachers' professional development day going on."
The kid scrunches up his face and hits his hand on his forehead.
KID: "Oh, crap! Actually I don't have school today! I forgot"
ME: "Well, at least now you're up early and can enjoy your day off."
KID: "Are you kidding me? I'm going home and going back to bed!

"Best day of my life!"

My nights and mornings are filled with standard, brief, ritualistic-like greetings and banter:

“Good evening.”
“Have a good night.”
“Good morning.”
“Have a great day.”
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going.”
“How are you today?”
“Can’t complain.”
“I’m still breathing.”
“Working hard or hardly working?”
“What’s up?”
”Not much.”
“Don’t work too hard.”
“Another day, same old shit.”

But my favorite comes from a pleasant, cheerful older gentleman who comes in every morning for coffee and a newspaper. He is probably about 80. I always greet him with “Good morning, how are you today?”

His response is always the same:

“Best day of my life!”

"Nice cologne!"

A young guy comes in, walks to the back, grabs four frozen burritos, a small jar of salsa and a bag of corn chips then brings it all up to the counter to pay.

He reeks of weed (marijuana).

"Nice cologne!" I say.

He looks at me with red, hazy, glazed-over eyes and smiles.

"I smother you?"

A distraught customer comes in, explains that his cell phone died and asks if we have a phone he can use. I let him borrow my cell.

He paces up and down the aisles while talking and this is what I hear:

"Honey, please come home . . . Please. . . Don't sleep in the car. It's cold . . . You're the one who goes running off at 1:00 in the morning . . . Please come home. . . . No, don't sleep in the car. . . . why won't you come home? . . . I smother you? . . .I SMOTHER you? . . . Whatever, fuck that!"

He hangs up, returns my phone, thanks me and leaves.

The Marlboro Man

At about 3:00 a.m., while picking up all the cigarette butts and other trash left in the parking lot (despite the fact we have nine outdoor garbage cans and two outdoor ashtrays) I find a coupon: $1.00 off any pack of Marlboro's. I save it for the next customer who comes in for a pack.

A half-hour or or so later a guy stops by and asks for a pack of Marlboro Reds.

ME: "I have this coupon for $1.00 off. Would you like to use it?"
CUSTOMER: "Yes, That would be great."

I ring it up and enter the coupon deduction: $5.75.

CUSTOMER: "You guys charge more for cigarettes than Albertson's and Safeway anyway, so this helps make up for it."
ME: "But Albertson's and Safeway aren't open right now."

The customer gives me a funny look.

As he goes outside and is about to get in his car, I watch him unwrap the cellophane from the pack and toss it in the parking lot.


"The sun will come up tomorrow."

4:30 A.M.:

Conversation with homeless guy in front of store:

HOMELESS GUY: "The sun isn't coming up today."
ME: "What happened to it?"
HOMELESS GUY: "It burned out."
ME: "Well . . . that would suck. But I think it will come up."
HOMELESS GUY: "I hope so. It should be up by now."
ME: "It will. It's just coming up later everyday. It's fall."
HOMELESS GUY: "I don't think you know what I'm talking about."
ME: "I guess I don't."
HOMELESS GUY: "I think something's wrong."
ME: "Why do you say that?"
HOMELESS GUY: "Listen. Do you hear birds? Do you hear crickets?"
ME: "No, but it's late September and it's been cold."
HOMELESS GUY: "What about all the deer that are sick and dying?"
ME: "I haven't seen any sick and dying deer."
HOMELESS GUY: "I have. All over town. The deer are all sick and dying."
ME: "I just saw a doe and her fawn there about a half hour ago."

I point to the grassy area between the store and the cattail marsh.

ME: "They looked really healthy"
HOMELESS GUY: "I just think something's wrong. I don't think the sun is coming up tomorrow."
ME: "Don't worry. The sun will come up tomorrow."
HOMELESS GUY: "I hope so."
ME: "You can bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun."
HOMELESS GUY: "How can you be so sure?"
ME: "Just a strong hunch."
ME: "Well, I need to get back to work."
HOMELESS GUY: "I hope the sun comes up."
ME: "It will."
HOMELESS GUY: "I hope so."

It did.

"That's bullshit!"

At 4:00 a.m. I shut down the register, count money, print out a ton of information from various sources and fill out the shift and daily reports. It entails recording a bunch of numbers (such as cash sales, credit card sales, coupons, lotto and scratch card sales and payouts, food stamp sales, safe drops, safe withdraws, etc.) in the right places, adding and subtracting, and seeing how reality matches up with computerized data. It's not difficult but can be time-consuming and requires a bit of care and concentration.

Last night, right after I started, a young drunk woman comes in to buy a pack of Camel Menthol's.

ME: "It will take just a few moments before the register is back up and running if you can wait. Sorry."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "I'm in kind of a hurry."
ME: "Sorry, it will be about five minutes or so."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "I don't have five minutes."
ME: "Well, there is nothing I can do until these reports are done printing. Sorry. If you don't want to wait, I understand."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "Can't you pick a better time of day to your reports?"
ME: "What better time of day than 4:00 a.m.?"

She decides to wait, and walks up and down every aisle I just mopped, goes to the back of the store to get nachos, spills hot cheese from the machine I just cleaned all over the counter I just cleaned, leaves a trail of nacho cheese on the floor while walking from the back counter back to the register, then starts chatting away while I am trying to add up some numbers on a calculator as she eats and drips cheese all over the counter. Apparently, she didn't notice because she put her purse down in the cheese. I couldn't understand all she was saying; something about her boyfriend and friends being assholes because they deserted her at a bar and she had walk home only to find she was locked out of her apartment.

I had to recalculate the numbers several times.

ME: "The register is back up and running"
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "Well, thank God!"

I ring up the nachos and cheese and her cigarettes: $8.74. She wants to pay for everything with her EBT (Food Stamp) card.

ME: "Sorry, but you can't use EBT for cigarettes or nachos."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "Oh, that's bullshit. Yes I can"
ME: "No, sorry. You can't."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "I should be able to buy the nachos with my card."
ME: "Sorry, you can't."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "That's bullshit."
ME: "Sorry, can't do it."

I tell her she can have the nachos, and deduct $1.99 from the total. She now owes $6.75 for the Camels. She digs through her cheese-smothered purse and comes up with $3.69 in quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies.

ME: "Sorry, that's not enough."
YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN: "That's bullshit."
ME: "Sorry."

She leaves.

I finish closing the books, clean up her mess, clean the machines again and mop the floors once more. By then, it's time to start making coffee and prepare for the morning rush.

"BOOM! You're dead!"

At least once a week some guy will come into the store (yes, it’s always guys and they’re usually drunk), bring up the potential dangers of working graveyard and ask if I keep a gun handy. When I tell them “no” they usually respond with something like: “You should. If I were you I would . . . nobody’s gonna rob me!”

Which is exactly what a guy told me last night.

ME: “Would you keep it on the counter, pointed at everyone and anyone who approaches, just in case? Don’t you think that might intimidate customers a tad bit?"
GUN GUY: “No, I would keep it under the counter.”
ME: “Loaded?”
GUN GUY: “Well, yeah, of course.”
ME: “Safety on or off?”
GUN GUY: “On.”
ME: “So if someone came up to the counter and suddenly pulled a gun on you do you think you would have time to reach down, grab your gun, switch the safety off and shoot him before he shoots you?”
GUN GUY: “I am pretty quick dude.”
ME: “You sound like Wyatt Earp.”

He laughs.

GUN GUY: “Seriously dude, I am quick.”
ME: “Okay. Show me. Pretend you are me and I am a customer about to rob you.”
GUN GUY: “Okay.”
ME: “Okay, so I am approaching the counter and . . . “

He pretends to reach down for his gun.

ME: “Whoa. Wait. I haven’t tried to rob you yet. I’m just a customer approaching the counter with a bag of Doritos.”
GUN GUY: “But you said you were going to rob me.”
ME: “I was just setting up the scene. I don’t think a thief would let you know ahead of time he was going to rob you.”
GUN GUY: “I don’t think they would just approach the counter to buy something. I think they would come in wearing a mask or something.”
ME: “Okay, fair enough. So let’s pretend I rush into the store wearing a mask and . . .”

I quickly lift my hand and point towards his head pretending I have a gun.

ME: “GIVE ME YOUR MONEY. NOW! HURRY UP! GIVE ME THE MONEY! MAKE UP YOUR MIND! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME THE MONEY OR GO FOR YOUR GUN? HURRY! GIVE ME THE MONEY . . . ”

He pretends to reach down for his gun.

ME: “BOOM!” You’re dead. Was it worth it for maybe $100. or so of someone else’s money?

He laughs.

GUN GUY: “You’re crazy dude.”
ME: “True. But do you get my point?”
GUN GUY: “Yes. But I still think you should have a gun. I would if I were you.”
ME: “Why?”
GUN GUY: “Nobody’s gonna rob me!”

Crotchety old Scrooge

A crotchety mean old Scrooge comes into the store every morning for coffee and a pack of Mavericks. Recently, as he was readying to use the magnetic card reader, he demanded $4.50 "cash back" in quarters.

ME: “Debit or credit?”
SCROOGE: “What the hell do you think? I want cash back.”
ME: “Sorry. Of course. Just a question I ask out of habit.”
SCROOGE: “Well try thinking.”
ME: “Thanks for the kind advice. I’ll give it my best shot.”

He swipes his card, the transaction goes through, the register opens and I begin counting out his “cash back,” but I only have $1.50 worth of quarters left.

ME: “I am low on quarters, if you give me a few minutes I can drop more from the safe.”
SCROOGE: “I don’t have all day.”
ME: “It won’t take all day, just a few moments. Do you want to wait? Do you want more quarters?”
SCROOGE: “Well hurry up.”

I put the quarters I have on the counter and begin to reach down for the safe. He holds out his hands and demands, “Put them in my HAND!”

ME: “Excuse me?”
SCROOGE: “PUT THEM IN MY HAND!”
ME: “Are you serious?”
SCROOGE: “Don’t put them on the counter, PUT THEM IN MY HAND!”
ME: “What is wrong with you?”
SCROOGE: “Hurry up.”
ME: “You are pitiful."
SCROOGE: "What did you say?"
ME: "You are a miserable old man, aren’t you?”
SCROOGE: “What? You can’t talk to me like that.”
ME: “You are a miserable old fucking man. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you treat people like shit?”

Right about then, the store’s assistant manager shows up for work, sees what’s going on, intervenes and tells me to back off.

ME (to Assistant Manager): “Fire me if you want, but I am not dealing with assholes like this.”
SCROOGE: “You should not be working in customer service.”
ME: “You should learn to treat people with respect.”

He leaves. My boss tells me to take a break and calm down. Later he tells me that yes, the guy is an asshole, but I should have backed off when he asked me to. I agree. “He brought the Marine in me out,” I explain. “Which, believe me, is not something I like.”

The customer who was in line behind Scrooge (also a regular) says, “Dave, for what it’s worth, you’re a nice guy and you shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of thing.”
The next day, my assistant manager tells me he talked to our store manager about the incident.

ME: “What did she say?”
ASSISTANT MANGER: “She laughed. She thinks the guy’s an asshole too. She says you got a bit carried away, but she is glad to have someone who stands up for himself working graveyard.”

Itsy bitsy spider

A young woman approaches the counter with a 32-ounce fountain drink. As she is about to put it down, a fairly good size spider scurries out from under the cash register skedaddling towards the Lotto machine. The woman is so startled she drops her drink and the spider drowns in a puddle of Mountain Dew -- or perhaps died from a rapid overdose of sugar.

A hypothetical robbery?

4:15 AM:

Creepy Guy: "How much you keep in your register this late?"
Me: "I'm not sure; why do you ask?"
Creepy Guy: "If i decided to rob you I want to know if it'd be worth it."
Me: "Shouldn't that be kind of like playing the lottery . . . take a chance, take a risk, see if you get lucky?"
Creepy Guy: "What?"
Me: "You would most likely end up in prison."
Creepy Guy: "Lighten the fuck up. I'm not going to rob you. I was joking."
Me: "So it was just a hypothetical sort of thing?"
Creepy Guy: "A what?"
Me: "A hypothetical?"
Creepy Guy: "You think I'm impressed with your fucking big words?"
Me: "Is that a rhetorical question?"
Creepy Guy: "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Me: "I just want to look and sound smart when the cops are watching this on video."
Creepy Guy: "You're an asshole. . . you're fucked up."
Me: "You're the one who wants to hypothetically rob me."
Creepy Guy: "Fuck you . . "

He leaves.

"Honey, one night with me and you won't be gay!"

INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Are you new here?"
ME: "Kind of. I've been here a few months now."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Oh, I haven't seen you before."
ME: "I only work Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Oh, well you seem nice."
ME: "Thanks."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "And you're very handsome if you don't mind me saying."
ME: "Aw . . .thanks! I don't mind at all!"

INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Are you single?"
ME: "Yes, I am."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Would you like to go out sometime?"
ME: "You mean like on a date?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Well, yeah!"
ME: "I am very flattered, thank you, but I am gay."

INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I've heard THAT before!"
ME: "I bet you have!"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "What's THAT supposed to mean?"
ME: "Well . . . there's a lot of us around; we're everywhere!"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Honey, one night with me and you won't be gay."
ME: "Well . . .that's a kind offer but I'm quite happy the way i am, thanks."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "You're happy being gay?"
ME: "Well . . . that's the meaning of the word, right?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Huh?
I ring up her items, hit total . . .
ME: "That will be $12.98 . . . "
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I'm serious."
ME: "About what?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I can help you."
ME: "But I don't need help."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I've changed guys before."
ME: "What? . . Do you work for a Christian reparative therapy group or something?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "So now you're making fun of Christians?"
ME: "No. I was kidding."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "It's not funny."
ME: "Didn't mean to offend you."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "You didn't offend me, you're offending God."

ME: "Okay . . .well . . . will there be anything else?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I'm serious."
ME: "Okay. Thanks. I appreciate you're concern. Have a good night."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "I don't judge, but God will judge."
ME: "Will he judge you for trying to sleep with gay guys?"
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Fuck you."
ME: "No thanks."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "Asshole."
ME: "Okay, thanks. Have a good night."
INEBRIATED WOMAN: "You need a good ass-kicking."
ME: "I've heard THAT before!"

"That's what black people eat."

Two seemingly drunk sorority girls come into the store soon after I smoked the place out with a batch of overly-cooked popcorn in the popcorn machine.

Girl One: "It smells like burnt popcorn in here."
Girl Two: "That's what black people eat."
Girl One: "Huh?"
Girl Two: "I'm serious, black people like their popcorn burnt."
Me: "Are you really being serious?"
Girl Two: "Yeah, my neighbor in the apartment near me is black and always burns his popcorn."
Me: "Kind of like how white people always put ketchup on their fried baloney?"
Girl Two: "What? Fried baloney? Gross. I don't eat fried baloney."
Me: "But I have a white friend who eats fried baloney and always puts tons of ketchup on it."
Girl Two: "So?"
Me: "I just assumed all white people must do that."
Girl Two: "I've never had fried baloney. It sounds gross . . . What are you talking about?"
Me: "Never mind."

"That's gay!"

2:15 AM:

Me: "Sorry, I can't sell beer after 2:00."
Young Drunk Guy: "Aw, come on dude, please?"
Me: "Sorry. State law. I can't."
Young Drunk Guy: "Come on dude, don't be gay."
Me: "But I am gay."
Young Drunk Guy: "Huh?"
Me: "I am gay."
Young Drunk Guy: "No shit, really dude?"
Me: "Yes."
Young Drunk Guy: "Oh, shit dude. I'm sorry. I didn't mean 'don't be gay' in THAT way, I meant 'don't be gay' in a . . . like . . . sort of . . . Shit. I'm not making it any better am I?"
Me: "No"
Young Drunk Guy: "I am so sorry, dude, I didn't mean to offend you."
Me: "You didn't offend me at all."
Young Drunk Guy: "That's cool, man. You're a cool dude."
Me: "Thanks."