...And just when I thought I wouldn't find anything interesting to write about...it occurred to me that I have a plethora of subject matter right where I work!
My favorite customer
I call him "Pops" for lack of a better name. It's not that I don't care what his name is, it's just that Pops is fitting. He's probably mid sixties, Caucasian, sporting shoulder length gray hair. He wears a recognizable beret, and he has a hippy-dignified mustache. A vet of some war, he's a starving artist who's livelihood consists of odd painting and construction jobs. He wears a long black tweed jacket, and walks with a slow and intentioned swagger. I usually only see him in the evening when I'm working in the cafe. He says "hi," and asks if he can steal the leftover papers that people purchase and leave behind. He then asks if he's bothering me. Clearly, he's not, but after Al got kicked out of Lunds permanently for being a hella creep, Pops is cautious.
Pops is also racist, and really doesn't like gays. The ads in the back of the free Minneapolis newspapers are full of disgusting homosexual content, which is just gross. He thinks his refrigerator is bugged by the Chinese who produce and import machines to the U.S. His fridge makes noises of different frequencies, like music.
Although he's not actually paranoid, these idiosyncratic biases are really rich in humor.
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