Perpetually Sporadic

PART I can be found here.

I was wrong. As the man with the laptop picked up his drink, he interrupted our conversation to say hello. Politely, I greeted him in return and went back to eating my dinner. This, however, didn’t stop him from continuing to talk to me. He started with the small questions….what’s your name? Do you work here? Is that spaghetti? And as I answered moved closer and started asking more disconcerting questions: Where do you live? Do you live by yourself? Who made that spaghetti for you, your mom? Where did you go to high school? What were your activities in high school?

I kept looking over at Joe and Colleen, but they were busy with a line at the drive thru. Unsure of a better way to close off the conversation I muttered something about my break ending and hopped off the bar stool. I quickly headed to the backroom and took a seat at the desk, where I finished my meal in peace. I then took a few moments to grab my iPhone and say something on facebook about the unusual encounter. I had dreaded my break time ending, knowing the man with the laptop was still going to be there.

Colleen assigned me to the espresso bar after I clocked back in. I was relieved to be on the bar because I knew it was much easier to feign busyness on the bar than at the drive thru.

The customers grew to be fewer and fewer as the night drew on, but that didn’t stop the man with the laptop. He approached almost every customer that came in, tried to chat them up. While I could not hear what he was saying, I could see the body language of the people he was talking to. It was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. I knew there was nothing we could do.

About 30 minutes before we closed the man with the laptop packed up his belongings. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he started a conversation with a customer and followed him outside to chat. They stood there talking for several minutes, during which another customer entered the store.

I took the woman’s order and started to make her drink…a Venti Mocha Frappuccino. I made her drink the same way I had made hundreds of drinks, exactly according to recipe.

I handed the woman her beverage and was about to warn her about the man with the laptop who was now outside. However, before I could tell her about the creepy man, she started yelling at me. She was exclaiming that the drink was terrible and demanded that I remake it. I asked her what the problem was and she merely stated that it tasted wrong. I asked her if anyone in our store made it different for her, and she said no. So with no reason to remake her drink, I remade it, to appease her. I made the drink the EXACT same way I had made it the first time. When it was ready, I handed the drink over for approval and she told me that it was “much better”.

Much better? It was the same thing that I had just made, that she had wasted. I was so incredibly frustrated with her that I purposefully neglected to tell her about the man with the laptop standing outside, closing up the conversation with the man. The woman made some remark that was probably meant to be a compliment and headed out the door.

I watched as she went outside, hoping that she’d bypass the man with the laptop. But by the time she made it out the front door the man with the laptop had been left by himself. He greeted her as exited the building and started talking to her. He said something and she pointed at the road, as if giving directions. She nodded her head then started walking to her car. Their conversation was brief. He came back inside, where he’d left him bag and quickly grabbed it and walked back outside.

As the man with the laptop exited the building, our favorite regular, Tony, walked in. Before I could greet him, I saw the man with the laptop walk over to and get in the car belonging to the woman. Tony must have seen the look on my face, because he turned to look outside too. I mumbled something about stopping the car and before I could move, Tony ran outside to try to stop them, but they were off before he could even get the license plate number.

Immediately I felt regret for not warning the woman. Immediately I felt responsible. For what…..I didn’t know. But there was an unsettling feeling inside of me, worried for that woman who was now driving the man with the laptop.

To be continued….