Don’t Mind Me, Just Looking For Some Holy Spirit!

I live in a medium-sized Southern town, and this happened a few years ago. I’d been out running errands for work and realized, on the way home, that I had no wine. I was having guests over for dinner that night, so I made a quick stop at the liquor store. I go there often, so I know most of the staff. On this day, Tom was working the counter, and since the place was empty, we chatted briefly before he said:

Tom: “I’m gonna head to the back and pull some boxes. I know you can spend hours reading wine labels, so if someone comes in, give me a holler.”

Accurate.

So, I’m kneeling by one of the wine shelves, completely absorbed in label-reading, when I suddenly hear a very aggressive throat clear behind me. I assume someone wants to get to the same shelf, so without looking up:

Me: “Sorry!”

I shuffle to the side a bit.

Then I hear another, louder “AHEM!”

Now, an important detail: there’s no strict dress code for employees here, just “look neat.” That day, I happened to be wearing a full black suit with a white clerical collar. I had come straight from visiting someone in the hospital and hadn’t changed.

Customer: “I swear, I have nothing but problems with you people who work here. You never want to help!”

Me: “Tom’s in the back. I can call him real quick—”

Customer: “—No, you are right here, you can help me. Or are you just too lazy?”

Me: *Rising to my feet.* “Ma’am, I don’t work he—”

And then she sees it. The collar.

Her face drains of color. She drops the bottle she’s holding. She stares. And then she absolutely loses her mind.

I’m not sure what happened in her brain, but apparently, the concept of a “preacher” (anyone in black clothing, in her mind) being in a liquor store sent her into a full meltdown. Screaming, flailing, incomprehensible nonsense. I caught snippets like “GOING TO HELL!” and “HOW DARE YOU?!”

Tom must have heard the shrieking and sprinted out from the back just as she started throwing things: bottles, her purse, wild arms.

Rather than intervene directly, Tom smartly bolted to the front to call 911. Then he came back to try and get between me and the customer. Unfortunately, he caught a wine bottle full in the forehead. It sent him flying into an entire display rack.

Just as the customer wound up for round two, the police arrived. One officer tackled her mid-screech and took her to the floor while calling for backup. She refused to cooperate and had to be physically dragged out, kicking, screaming, and spitting the entire time.

Paramedics arrived next. They knew me from hospital visits and tended to both me and Tom (who had taken the brunt of the damage and ended up needing stitches). I gave my statement on-site while Tom gave his at the hospital. 

Turns out she was the wife of some big-shot lawyer. He managed to get her off with community service, and no one ever really found out what set her off.

Maybe it was just the soul-crushing realization that clergy are… still human.

Tom loved telling this story for years after. Frankly, I can’t blame him.