126 minutes till closing.
It hasn't even been two months and I'm already a handkerchief to every man who pokes through the aisles of the humidor room. It's getting to the point where I know that the vibratious wooden clang of the humidor's door means to grab a red pen, a paper, and rock back and forth on a wooden stool, pretending that i'm busy at balancing. I can peg the ones who will give me a full, uncut autobiography. They usually begin with their lunatic questionnaire like So what do you think the temperature difference is between this humidor and...oh...Greenland? But I have them all tricked, all the stank-breathing dragons that approach me at the register. I'm taking notes.
For example, I hand nine cents over to Plaster Hands who *tsk tsks* at his 33 dollar total for 5 cigars. Such a nasty habit, I know. Just as Singsong Hello swaggers in for his two cartons of Gauloise, the clank of the door hits me like despair.
Yessir, I know that it's a vice. Yessir, once every six months is not treating yourself enough. Yessir, you might impress your corporate kingpin to make more than a minion out of you with this Macanudo. On and on.
I suppose that really wasn't an "example" per se...but it is predestined to be one. Plaster Hands will be back. He will again relay to me all about how his own habit disgusts him, word by word. He will count his change by tossing coin after coin onto the counter and he will cut his cigar into the spare penny tray.
And I will decide whether or not I want to be his new friend.
It hasn't even been two months and I'm already a handkerchief to every man who pokes through the aisles of the humidor room. It's getting to the point where I know that the vibratious wooden clang of the humidor's door means to grab a red pen, a paper, and rock back and forth on a wooden stool, pretending that i'm busy at balancing. I can peg the ones who will give me a full, uncut autobiography. They usually begin with their lunatic questionnaire like So what do you think the temperature difference is between this humidor and...oh...Greenland? But I have them all tricked, all the stank-breathing dragons that approach me at the register. I'm taking notes.
For example, I hand nine cents over to Plaster Hands who *tsk tsks* at his 33 dollar total for 5 cigars. Such a nasty habit, I know. Just as Singsong Hello swaggers in for his two cartons of Gauloise, the clank of the door hits me like despair.
Yessir, I know that it's a vice. Yessir, once every six months is not treating yourself enough. Yessir, you might impress your corporate kingpin to make more than a minion out of you with this Macanudo. On and on.
I suppose that really wasn't an "example" per se...but it is predestined to be one. Plaster Hands will be back. He will again relay to me all about how his own habit disgusts him, word by word. He will count his change by tossing coin after coin onto the counter and he will cut his cigar into the spare penny tray.
And I will decide whether or not I want to be his new friend.