The other day two of our most notorious "animal" guests where in at the same time, and I almost felt like I was in some sort of low rent zoo. To be fair, most days at work I feel like I'm in a low rent zoo, but that's kind of to be expected.
There's a man who comes in that everybody calls "Turtle Man," because he looks like a fucking creepy ass turtle. He's probably in his 60s, he walks hunched over with a cane, and he has giant glasses. He also usually wears a bucket hat. And I should mention the reason that he walks hunched over is that he has some kind of back brace equipment strapped to him, and normally I'd never make fun of somebody with a genuine medical condition, but he's so damn weird and annoying that he's exempt from any exemptions of mockery.
He actually looks a little like this:
except older and more hunched over and not wearing a big green suit...and okay maybe only vaguely like this
Turtle Man requires a full glass of ice on the side for his glass of tap water, extra napkins, and no matter what he orders he asks for a soup spoon. He has never actually ordered soup. He usually orders a steak and eggs or a roast chicken, and woe to those who don't bring him a soup spoon ahead of time. He will get up and start waving. It happens. I'm not sure what he does with the soup spoon, since I've never actually watched him eat. I just know what when he's finished his plate is a mess and he only ever tips two dollars no matter how much his bill is.
The Raccoon is a whole different breed of crazy. She has crazy dark brown hair that seems to be a cross between an 80s perm and a mullet, but more importantly she has her entire eye area covered in black makeup. All around the eye. Big black circles. We've actually debated whether or not this make up is tattooed on or if she actually just smears big sticks of charcoal around her eyes every morning. The Raccoon comes in with her comparatively normal looking husband/boyfriend/whatever and they always get one cup of coffee and one order of scrambled eggs. If the eggs are too well scrambled they will send them back. They also request a bread basket, but only the brown bread, not the white bread, and for the love of god don't forget to give them jelly.
I long for the day when I can tell Turtle Man we are out of soup spoons, and Raccoon Lady that there's a shortage of brown bread. I doubt it'll ever happen, but it's good to have dreams.
In other news, all that ever plays on our radio any more is six different versions of "Girl From Ipanema" and now the slightest mention of that song makes me want to punch somebody.
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