Vreanko

Vreanko

It doesn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the neon, but I’m disoriented enough to bump into five or six people as I navigate around to the bar. I order and drop the money into the bartender’s hand and before I’m too preoccupied with finding change for the jukebox, the drink is in my hand and I’m waving off the change. The bar is crowded in a desperate way. People don’t really care about connecting with someone else. It’s about proving to yourself that you’re attractive enough to make someone else want you. You can tell by how they are just mouthing off about their own achievements or waiting on their turn to talk. The only reason I come to this bar anyway is because it is loud enough to not have to think about why I’m there in the first place. Usually, when I come here there’s no one that recognizes me, but I can see Rob and his sister Julie waving me over from the moment the bartender presses the drink into my hand. I take a sip and walk over. 

"Motherfucker! What's goin' on man?" 

Rob is as eloquent as ever, Julie nods at me and I slide into a chair across from her. 

"Hi guys. I think I might have gone a little crazy earlier." 

Julie looks at me again and I wonder if there's anything more than friendly in it, but I've never been good at getting the subtlety of women. The subtlety of a hammer I get, but women are a confusing morass of emotions and pleasantly tight sweaters. Rob sips at his drink and begins to speak. I can see tracer lines on his pocket. They send out little waves into the air the waves tangle and inter mesh with waves from the pockets and purses of the other bar patrons. 

"How are you going crazy, mang?" Rob laughs at his own jokes. It gets annoying sometimes, but he's more funny than not so he doesn't grate nearly as much as someone who has no sense of humor. 

"I think maybe I'd rather talk about something else right now. How's the new job?"

"Oh, it's probably the easiest and dullest thing you could ever do. Don't ever apply at a gas station man, and if you do, don't apply for the overnight shift." 

"Is it really that bad?" 

"Let me put it this way, I had a bitch yell at me because she had to walk inside to get her receipt." Julie perks up at this and leans forward. 

"Ooh, customer service stories. That's my favorite pastime. What did she say?" 

"Well, basically she was annoyed that she had to come in at all. I apologized, of course and when that didn't seem to satisfy her, she looked at me like I was a scumbag and stormed off." 

"Boring! Let's hear some crazy shit! Chris, what about the book store? Surely there's something you can share with us." I consider this and take out my wallet. 

"Well if we're going to do this, why don't we make it a little interesting?" Julie looks to Rob with that weird communication that brothers and sisters share. They nod at each other and then at me. Rob is the speaker of the sibling beast I call Rulie. 

"What kind of stakes did you have in mind?" "Oh, you know, just your standard run of the mill bar bet. I win, you buy my drinks the rest of the night. You win, I buy yours." 

"How will we know who won?" 

"Julie will be the judge." 

"Why Julie?" 

"Because, she's a self confessed aficionado of customer service stories. Also, I know she'll be fair because she judged your nonstarter story as lame." "Okay, big man how do we decide who goes first?" I hold up my hand and walk over to the bar. I don't wait for the bartender's attention this time because all I'm looking for is a few drink stirrers. I take 5 or so and I cut them different lengths. As I walk back to the table I arrange them in my hand so that they all look more or less the same. "Okay, Mr. Rob, take a straw. Shortest straw goes first." Rob carefully chooses his straw and pulls it from my hand. 

"Julie, if you'll do me the honor of choosing my straw. I don't want to be accused of cheating." 

"Of course, Chris, let's see. Which one do I want? I want this one. " Rob chooses his and they compare them like boys comparing fathers on the playground. Julie smacks Rob on the arm with her straw. 

"Mine's bigger! You've gotta go first, sucker!" 

"Wow, sucker. Something tells me this won't be as fair as you think, Chris." 

"She's your sister, duder." 

"Fine. How about a cigarette story?" 

"If that's how you want to lose this, I heartily agree." 

"Anyway, a couple of weeks ago we were out of practically out of every cigarette we carry. No hard packs of anything popular. Almost no popular cigarettes at all, really. People were getting really mad about it. I had this conversation about ten times a night. 

'How can I help you?' 

'I need Oldbays short hard pack please.' 

'No can do' 

'Why not?' 

'We're out of them.' This would make them look at me with this kind of naked hatred. As if their only reason for living was being extinguished by my hand. So they'd ask me what they were supposed to do. 

'I don't know, pal. Go somewhere else? You know, like another place where cigarettes are sold?' So, this would go on and on, for pretty much the last part of the week right before the cigarette shipment would arrive. The kicker, was when we ran out of cigarillos. Well, not all of them. We had peach, strawberry and menthol." 

Julie holds up her hand at this point before I can interrupt. 

"Wait, this is going somewhere, right? I mean the conversation was kind of funny, but we need one example of how you tried to give good customer service but the customer prevented you."

"I was actually getting to it, Julie. just be a little patient. Now, this guy came in and it's late. My shift is almost over and I've had enough of this bullshit where people think it's their right to get cigarettes. Like it's written into the Constitution in the Bill of Rights between the right to bear arms and not quartering troops, but I digress. This lady comes roaring into the store like she's dying of malaria and we're stocked full of whatever it is that cures malaria. Shut up, Julie. No one cares about what cures malaria. She runs up to the counter and she's out of breath, panting, just dripping sweat on my counter. She catches her breath and I notice she's got a strange bib around her neck. That's when she lifts the cancer microphone to her throat." 

Julie's eyes widen and my chances of winning this contest seem to get slimmer. Shit. 

"No fucking way!" Julie pounds the table as she says this and I am racking my brain for the end all be all of customer stories. I laugh at Rob's story as the perfect one pops into mind.

Rob takes a sip from his drink and nods. This story is only going to get better, then I'm going to lose.

"So the microphone starts to crackle up with her robot voice, and for some reason I know what she's going to ask.

'Oldbays short hard pack and two regular cigarillos.'

'I'm all out.'

'What?'

'I'm out of all those things you just asked me for.'

'This is bullshit!' 

'No, ma'am, if you'll take a look behind me you'll see that we are completely out of Oldbays. If you direct your attention to the left of that a bit you'll notice that we are out of regular cigarillos. I am completely unable to help you.' 

That's when she ran out of the store."

Julie's laughter peals out masking my own.

"Chris, you're going to have to bring it if you want to win."

I smile and stir my drink, this might be a little more difficult than I previously thought.