Last week I told you about the guy who bought three cakes from us on Father's Day. He was a little slow, but he was a nice man. I'd be happy to serve him again. A man I'd rather not serve again is this dirty old dude who also came by that day. He's at least 65 years old, very rich, but very cheap. He's always looking for a deal, yet I never see him without his Bvlgari sunglasses. Morning, afternoon, evening... the guy always comes in wearing those pricey designer shades. The hilarious thing abut those sunglasses is that they aren't men's, they're women's. LOL As for what makes him dirty, it's the way he speaks to us. He's always saying things that are totally inappropriate, and he does it in a voice that's a weird combination of Jack Nicholson and Sylvester Stallone. I think he's under the impression that he looks and sounds super suave, but he couldn't be more wrong. He's totally creepy, and I always feel like I need a shower after he stops by.
DOD: (leaning up against the counter & lifting his shades to rest on his head) Good day, ladies.
Me: (ewww, it's you!!) Hello sir, how are you today?
DOD: (remember, think Nicholson & Stallone combined) Well, I'm great. It's Father's Day, not that I'm a father, but I could have a few illegitimate children around the world that I don't know about. (looking over at Drey and winking) Don't go tell my wife, little one.
Me: (someone actually married you?? gross!)
Drey: (nothing, just a forced half smile)
DOD: (picking up one of the reduced Black Forest cakes sitting on the table out front) Is this fresh, little one, or is it fresh old, and that's why it has $2.00 off sticker on it?
Drey: Well, sir, it's fresh, but we need to reduce our cakes every few days.
DOD: Is that your fancy way of saying it's old?
Me: (no, you're old, dirty and old) No, sir. We just need to mark items down on certain days.
DOD: Well, that's good for me, not for you. (looking over at Drey) Did you have breakfast?
Me: (wtf does that have to do with 2 bucks off a cake?)
Drey: Yes, I did.
DOD: Did you eat lunch?
Drey: No, sir, it's too early still.
DOD: Well, are you going to have dinner?
Me: (what is this, 20 questions?)
DOD: Well, I think you're too skinny, you should eat some more.
Drey: I eat enough, sir. This it just the way I am.
DOD: I'm not saying you're fat, I'm just saying you should eat a little more.
Me: (WTF? make some sense already)
Drey: (looking totally confused) Oh, OK.
Putting down the cake, DOD walks out of our sight for about 30 seconds. When he reappears, he's holding a loaf of Italian bread that he pulled off of our bread wall.
DOD: (handing the bread to Drey) Could you kindly slice this for me, little one?
Drey: (taking the bread from him) Sure.
Me: (following Drey over to the slicer and whispering) Could you kindly slice this for me, little one?
Drey: (whispering back) Shhh, JB!! Let me slice this bread so we can get rid of him. He's grossing me out.
Me: (nothing, just walking away giggling)
A moment later, Drey walks back over to the counter and hands DOD the sliced loaf of Italian bread.
Drey: Here you go, sir.
DOD: (taking the bread) Thank you for slicing my bread, little one. Tonight, when I'm eating it, I'll be thinking of you.
Me: (practically gasping... oh-my-frickin'-God!!!!!!!!)
Drey: (speechless and looking like she might vomit)
DOD: (winking & smiling) Good day, ladies.
Drey and I said nothing. We just watched DOD lower his shades back over his eyes, make a quick turn on his heel, and then saunter off with the Italian bread in one hand and the Black Forest cake in the other, totally pleased with himself, no doubt.