"IS THIS FROM THE HOUSE OF GOD?????" He said as he put the box of Pepto-Bismol on the counter. The look in his eye wasn't quite right, he was wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with a dinner-plate sized hole in the front. He was crazy. I don't mean stupid customer crazy, I mean doesn't know what planet he's on crazy.
I was in the 11th hour or a 12 hour shift and wasn't in the mood. During the 10th to 12th hours of a shift it's perfectly acceptable to fuck with crazy people.
"Third Presbyterian pew" I said, after sizing him up and determining his level of craziness. This was met with 10 seconds of intense silence.
"WHERE'S THE PRIMATINE MIST??????"
"Aisle three on the right, bottom shelf"
I'll be damned if the crazy dude didn't go right to the Primatine Mist, in stark contrast to every mentally healthy customer who's ever asked me where something is. Perhaps an unknown symptom of schizophrenia is the ability to follow directions, or maybe he was just having a really severe asthma attack that was shutting off oxygen to his brain and wasn't crazy at all.
He left the Pepto on the counter
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