I hope Iwanttoleavemybody is okay…


Some freak gave somebody at my work, we’ll call her Melissa, an egg-shaped wrapped present. She had no idea where it came from.

A week ago to the day, the store at its worst day ever, bar none. Not saleswise, though I don’t think that part was too good either, but… I’ll explain.


About halfway through the day, a gentleman of a certain stereotypical persuasion (the bloodshot eyes screamed ‘say no to crack’) showed us a photograph on his somewhat expensive-looking flipphone, of this year’s “Hokey Pokey Elmo” sitting on a competitor’s shelf, with the price tag nice and obvious at the bottom…

We couldn’t meet the price displayed by rule (most of the world requires a printed advert page to do that) so he wanted his money back, and handy enough, he had his doll along to return it. He didn’t have his receipt, though.

He wasn’t happy that he was suddenly inelligible for a cash refund. Most folks, once they learn that they need the reciept to get cash, if they really want cash, they take their doll and go home to look for the receipt. (Or they proceed to the next branch of the store, or just try a WalMart or something, to see if they can get cash out of them. Not my problem.)

We had the boss help him when he was through, and as they were transacting at the counter, a lady bumped me casually:

“That guy’s a jerk,” she said.

I shrugged and nodded.

“No, I’m saying, he shoved me as he went by and he was being an asshole pushing everybody around,” she added.

“Are you okay!? I’m really sorry,” I said, just to make sure this wasn’t a law suit in progress.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just saying, he’s a jerk.”

“Okay,” I said.

He was next informed by the boss that he was going to get credit in the amount of the sale that had been over a certain weekend after Thanksgiving. Long story made a little shorter, instead of taking his doll and going home on that news, he elected a loud trip to the brig, and a lifetime ban from our shopping mall, accompanied by a tirade of death threats and calls on his filpphone.

This episode accorded us the right to police escort from the mall, which some of us accepted.

I’m not finished yet.

That night, every female employee had her purse robbed by closing time.

I unfortunately don’t know the whole story on that part of the night, because by then I had already gone home, just that the police were phoned, everyone was searched, and a report was filed. Oh, and we never saw a certain employee again after that.

Okay, a week later…


Melissa, having had a front row seat at that strange man’s rant a week before, and having had her purse lightened of all its cash shortly thereafter, was given a strange egg-shaped wrapped gift from a complete stranger whom she had never met before. He walked out of the store immediately after giving it to her.

Perhaps it was filled with the aforementioned’s razorbladed revenge on us.

I doubted that, but then again, every time I think I’ve seen everything, something else happens…

Melissa left her present in the back, still wrapped, and one of the other guys started to open it. It was a pair of plaster-of-paris halves, rubber banded together. He was done at that point, fearing the razorblades from before, or some kind of bomb, or maybe some Anthrax powder. He asked me to do the honors of taking the rubber bands off.

I had no such fears. The ugliest pranks a stranger ever pulled in my store are 1) a small fire in the trash and 2) a sulfurous stink bomb. I was thinking at worst it would be number 2, so I put it in the bathroom, where things stink all the time, and pulled the rubber bands off it near the trash in case I needed to let go of it abruptly.

The halves came apart easily, and inside it was… straps. Bra straps.

A complete stranger went through the trouble of molding plaster-of-paris into the shape of brassiere cups to either make fun of, or otherwise remedy, her … um… endowment.

She’s been a very good sport about it, and we hang it on the storeroom wall as a trophy.

Thank you all for your comments.

Mister_Green: I kinda half like it and half don’t, I just thought the line about God giving me a middle finger sounded good when I was saying it about… um… somebody. The misunderstanding that caused it has since been at least temporarily cleared.

Londo: I want to think that Pac-Man was the first of its kind; every now and then something happens that makes people otherwise not enclined say, “Wow, video/computer games aren’t all wasteful crap.” and Tetris was indeed one of them. I’ve seen similar results to differing extents with Puzzle Bobble/Bust a Move and Dance-Dance Revolution. For their abstraction, those games are ‘perfect’ in the sense that they can get just about anyone to play them and like it, at least for a while.

As I said last time, things are kinda busy around here, but at least it means that when I get around to it I’ll have more stories to tell. See you all next time.


2 thoughts on “

  1. Yes I’m still alive(just), sorry for the confusion, just felt like starting afresh.  what revenge!  a confusing plaster bra, genius…people do some weird shit.


  2. Wow, thank you. This was the oddest set of stories I’ve heard in a while. Any thoughts that all events were perhaps related? Just wondering, I’m in conspiracy theory mode.


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