Your Favorite Customer

Joelle said in the early morning on October 5, 2007

A few months back, I was out having breakfast with my good friend mikey, taking photos at the local mall. We were approached by a security guard who gave us a bit of a hassle about taking photos of mall property.  He gave us the whole “Since 9/11...” song and dance.  So apparently because terrorists flew planes into the WTC 6 years ago all the way across the country, the Mickey Mouse kiddie ride at the local mall is a threat to National Security.  Whatever.

Anyway, so that particular mall is kind of a “go-to"… we have a minimum of seven major malls in this city, but that one has a a two-story Target and the place I get my nails done, so it’s kind of hub of commerce for me.  Since that incident with the security guard, I can’t seem to shake him!  He’s always there and he always remembers me.

“Ooooooooooh!  Heeey, hellooo!  It’s my faaaaaaaaaavorite customer!”

He is from… honestly, I’m not sure if it’s Haiti or Africa.  He’s got a cool accent.  I could be totally wrong and if it is Africa, I couldn’t tell you where. I suck at accents from that whole area.  He is very tall and thin with really lovely deep black skin and a great big happy smile.  He’s also got a bit of an eye condition… kind of milky.  He seems to be a very nice guy, but my dance card is full and I’m just not interested. Anyway, his accent when he says, “My faaaaaaaaaaavorite customer!” reminds me of The Count from Sesame Street (even though he was Transylvanian — not even remotely close!) and I expect him to say, “Ah ah AH!” at the end every time.

It’s like he’s got some kind of radar.  I was hustling down the mall to Michael’s to pick up a picture frame and he waved. I heard “… my faaaaaaaavorite customerrrrrrr....” as I zoomed past, waving back.  Then, I saw him again on my way to Target one day and again, I was his favorite customer.  As I speed through the mall (because I don’t like to linger), he pops up from behind columns, corners, kiosks… it’s like having Geoffrey Holder from those old 7-up commercials pop up from behind things and I have to dodge him lest I get hit on… like a mad, accented video game.  Only blacker and smilier.

So last week, I was at the mall and ran into mikey, who was there getting a venus fly trap. We decided to grab a bite to eat outside the food court and as he’s inside getting a refill, Mr. Security Guard saunters up to my table.  “Helloooooo!  It’s my faaaaaaaavorite customerrrrrrr...How are youuuuuuu?” (Smile. Smile. Smile. Cleavage scope. Bigger smile).  He asked me, “Is that your boyfriend?” I stupidly say, “No.” He asks, “Is that your husband?” And again… I’m freakin’ George Washington all of a sudden and I cannot tell a lie.  “No,” I say and keep eating my sandwich. 

Don’t get me wrong… I’m really friendly to him.  I think that might be the problem. He’s super nice and you can’t help but smile when someone smiles that big at you. But he wouldn’t go away!  He asked what I do for a living and when I tell him I design websites, he begs me to hire him, even though he doesn’t design websites.  I said, “Well, that’s not going to help much, is it?” and we laugh and he says, “Teach me,” pausing to give me a suggestive look, “Teach me everything you know!”

I laughed and said, “Ok, I’ll keep you in mind!” and did the whole revert-to-the-sandwich move.  “Thanks for saying hi!  Have a really good day,” I said and smiled at him. I meant it, too. He’s a very nice man, and hey, now every time I got to the mall I get to be someone’s faaaaaaaaaavorite customerrrrrrrrr.  And that’s not so awful.