0

That doesn’t happen that often

Customers were trickling down to depths of the store and slowly making their way over to me at the desk. There wasn’t many foul tempered ones, which suited me just fine.
A tall, tanned, attractive, and exotic looking man soon made his way over to me.

Nemo: “Hello there. Could I check to see if you have a book and if not, could I order it?”

Me: “Sure! What are you looking for?”

Nemo: “The Biology of Belief.”

Me: “Ah, I’ll have to order that for you. I had a woman in earlier looking for it as well.”

Nemo: “I’ll order it in so.”

Me: “Grand job!”

I go about taking down the details of the book on the order form

Me: “OK, buddy, if you pop down your name and address here please.”

As he is filling out his name I take a look at it.

Me: “Jaysus, that’s a mouth full!”

Nemo: “Oh, I know! My parents had a sense of humour. I just go by the name Nemo. That’s the joy about being an adult: you can choose your own name to go by.”

Me: “Yeah, I like to go by name Bald Man.”

Nemo: “Or Sexy Man.”

He is looking at me with a cheeking grin. I see where this is going.

Me: “Ha, ha! Not really that now.”

I take the payment for his order and he continues to smile at me.

Me: “Right, so we’ll give you a shout as soon as your book arrives.”

Nemo: “Thank you. Goodbye Sexy Man.”

Me: “You take care.”

He was a lovely fellow and I must say: It’s nice to know that if I ever decide to cross over to his side of the footpath I’ll be able to meet someone fairly quickly.
I tend to get more offers and flirtatious interactions with the men-folk than I do with the lady-folk. It doesn’t really bother me. It’s reassuring to know that I’m a beacon of allure in someone’s eyes. I remember one time I agreed to go to the cinema with a man I met in a gay bar thinking he just wanted a friend and not a date. Oh, how wrong I was. I informed him through text that I didn’t drink from the same fountain as him but would still like to go to the cinema. He didn’t respond for a while and then stopped talking to me. That made me a bit sad since he was all kinds of nice. # BaldManProblems

2

You’re calling from where?

So man called from Iceland today hoping that I could help him out. Yeah, that’s right. Iceland.

Sigi: “Hello, I’m calling from Iceland and have a problem.”

Me: “Eh…OK. How can I help you?”

Sigi: “I placed an order and it was sent to the wrong address; it was sent to somewhere in Ireland and not my home in Iceland. The man who sent it to me replaced the ‘c’ with an ‘r’, so I never received my order.”

Me: “I can see how that would be problematic. Did you order through us?”

Sigi: “No, I ordered a daemonic book off a British lad through his site and he messed up.”

Me: “Right, well I can’t really do much for you since you ordered off someone else…in Britain.”

Sigi: “I don’t know what to do.”

Me: “You could try get in touch with our postal service and see if they can help you out and you should also get back in touch with the lad who sold you the book.”

Sigi: “What a marvellous idea! I love the Irish. I can trace my ancestors back to Ireland. I even have a ginger beard. I’m not a fan of the Brits but I like the Irish and the Scottish.”

Me: “Best of luck with finding your book.”

Sigi: “Thank you very much.”

The phone call went on for about fifteen minutes while I tried to sort him out. He seemed lovely, but why the hell would you call a book shop in Ireland to give out about a cock up in Britain and not get back in touch with whoever sold you something in the first place? # BaldManProblems

0

I belt you won’t believe this

I had the strangest dream last night:
Darren and I were living together again and we only had one belt between us. We had a roster made up to remind us whose turn it was to wear it. Darren’s turn came around to wear the belt, so it was left on his bed. I was passing by his room and saw belt and wished to have it back around my waist. I took it, but not before Darren emerged from the shadows and pounced on me. A tickle fight ensued and he was the victor. I lay lifeless upon his bed, giggling quietly to myself.

Dreams are weird. This is the trouble with only having one belt in your possession. # BaldManProblems

0

NO MORE! PLEASE, NO MORE!

I smelt his breath before I saw him. It peeked around the corner, made sure I was alone, and then went back to its owner to inform him. The owner approached me as I sat on the till and his foul breath caressed my nostrils. I resisted the urge to gag while he asked his question.

Hans: “Hello, where are your language books?”

Me: “They’re just around over to the left.”

Hans wanders over and leaves his breath to keep me company.
He returns quite quickly with a German language book.

Hans: “Is this one any use?”

Me: “Yeah, it’s quite popular.”

Hans: “Ah, very good. I want to learn the language and move to Austria. There’s nothing for me here in Ireland. In Austria everyone is so friendly and the place is so clean.”

I drop a pen so I can retrieve it and take a gulp of air.

Me: “That’s nice.”

Hans: “I don’t like the language very much but I need it. I once went out with a German girl and she broke up with me.”

Me: “Really?”

Hans: “Yes, you see: My star sign is Leo and she checked online to see if our star signs were compatible; they were not and she said we need to break up! I told her to fuck off and that was the end of that.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that.”

Throughout his anecdote I had to hold my breath for fear catching something from his. You see what I have to go through to get Bald Man Problems? # BaldManProblems

0

Do you know who I am?

I was face deep in a badly written zombie book at my station. There was some customers scattered about the shop floor but none seemed to have any desire to buy anything just yet, so I was left alone. I noticed there was one fellow over in the children’s section, I had a feeling he would be difficult.
My gaze was fixed on him until a man, who had the hairstyle of a balding pineapple, approached me with a book in hand.
As he goes to hand it to me he drops it and it falls to the floor.

Dan: “Ah, feck!”

Me: “You might want to grab another copy in case the words have fallen out of place.”

Dan: “Ah, I’ll make do with it.”

Dan takes his leave. My joke lost on him.
I was about to continue reading when the fellow from the children’s section approached me with a copy of ‘The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’ by John Boyne. He had greasy hair and a poor excuse for a moustache going on.

Jon: “I would like to purchase this.”

Me: “Sure thing.”

Jon: “I don’t know why I’m buying this since it’s my own work.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Jon: “You see, I’m John Boyne.”

Me: “Mate, I’ve met John Boyne before and I hate to tell you this, but you’re not him.”

Jon: “This is an outrage!”

Me: “So, would you like the book?”

Jon: “Yes, but I won’t read it.”

Well, that certainly was the strangest interaction I’ve had in a long time. I had a nice quite phase going on and was enjoying it. Looks like I’m back on the problem wagon. # BaldManProblems.