Comatose Morose

(I work in a department store. One day I am folding sweaters when an old man with a cane comes and grabs my arm and turns me around.)

Man: “I just woke up from a coma, and I can make you the happiest woman on the planet.”

Me: “Uh. Thank you?” *what am I supposed to tell him?*

(He then follows me around everywhere. He buys a woman’s sweater just so I can check him out. He tells me how rich he is, as he’s buying a clearance sweater for $5. He gives me his phone number and holds the line up for 15 minutes. I repeatedly tell him that I need to assist other customers. He pries and pries.)

Man: “Don’t call me after nine. That’s my bedtime.”

Customer Behind Him: “Guy, she’s not interested. Go away. I need to buy this for my wife.”

(He hobbled off and I gave the other customer a small discount. For the next month this old man came by and tried to find me. I felt like a kid again, hiding behind the displays and in the circle racks. He finally moved onto one of my other coworkers, who I still pray for.)