Ew. Men, please take note. Women, don't puke. [View all]

[Wait Wut]

There's this customer that I've attained. He comes in every other day with some piddly $5 job that he thinks is the most important job in my life.

He's a middle-aged, grey-haired man with a goatee and pierced ear. He pulls up on a crotch rocket. Yes, a crotch rocket. He waits until I get to the counter before he starts to take his helmet off and unzip his leather jacket to reveal a shirt that is unbuttoned to below his breast and his awesome gold chain. He then starts rattling off detailed instructions about whatever stupid job he has. Today, it was a 2 page fax. Wow.

While his fax is going through, one of my other...no...my BEST customer walks in to pick up his job. Mr. Crotch Rocket has taken over my entire counter with his helmet and personal crap, so I just nudge some of it over (he's on his cell phone...). I help my customer and am chatting with him in a normal tone of voice and printing his invoice out on a very noisy printer. I get him all taken care of and he tells me how wonderful I am to go out of my way to get his job done on such short notice. I love the guy, he gets what he needs.

Another customer walks in and we go through the same ordeal. Midway through taking care of the new customer, Mr. Crotch Rocket says in a sarcastic tone, "Well, I guess I'll have to take care of this phone call later since it's so noisy in here." WTF? Yeah, it's noisy because it's a friggin' PRINT SHOP and I have CUSTOMERS. I didn't realize he had rented this as his personal office space.

His fax is almost done when another customer walks in. This one, a mid-40ish very attractive customer that I've known for almost 10 years. I greet her, "Hey! Whataya got for me today?" Mr. Crotch Rocket is obviously much more interested in THIS customer than the others. "Oh! It looks like she has a job for you! And a check!" He giggles and addresses my poor unsuspecting customer "Checks are always good, aren't they?" She just kinda smiles and says, "Uh huh" and skitters out the door like she was being chased by wolves.

Mr. Crotch Rocket was all butt-hurt and continued to make MORE calls on his cell. Every call he made started out, "Hey! I'm sorry I missed your call. I was on my motorcycle and it's tough to take calls when you're on a motorcycle! HA...HA...HA..."

Good friggin' grief.

Men, you're sexy. You don't need a crotch rocket, tight leather jacket, earring, gold chain or any other midlife crisis related accessories. You need a personality. Real women will like you just fine.

Now, I'm going home to my middle-aged, sexy as hell, slightly chubby, talented and thoughtful husband.