My friend Ogre…

One of the best things about working somewhere for a while (and becoming assistant manager) is that it greatly increases your ability to get friends hired. When I stopped working the overnight shift and needed someone to cover the late nights, the first person who came to mind was my friend Ogre.

A perfect candidate not only because he had the mentality and physique of a bouncer, but also because Ogre doesn’t sleep (at least much… I’ve never seen him with his eyes closed.) Getting paid to stay up all night while kicking people out of the store who annoy him sounds like an ideal situation for him. And so far, he seems content.

Perhaps more than in other retail jobs, lonely people try to connect with you when you’re a clerk at a porn store. Certain customers will come in much more often than they need to and try to start awkward conversations as they buy fishnets and herbal Viagra. Ogre is particularly adept at putting a stop to this phenomenon immediately.

I once watched a pathetic customer attempt to engage him in a conversation about Iron Maiden for over 20 minutes. During this time, Ogre didn’t so much as look at the guy as he rambled on and on about how good their new album was. In the middle of a particularly long sentence describing his favorite track, Ogre simply stood up, sighed heavily and walked into the back room leaving the customer speaking to no one. (This customer, thankfully, decided to stop coming back.)

My favorite Ogre story, which I feel speaks the most about his love of his friends and his disdain for everyone else, happened a few weeks after he started working overnights. I was just about to finish my 3-11 shift and Ogre was waiting to take over the register when I finished helping a particularly needy customer. I had spent the last two hours helping him find videos of Chasey Lain in our unorganized video selection. (Ogre will tell you the fact that I helped the guy do this was incredibly stupid.) I was bored, so I really didn’t mind helping, but the guy wouldn’t shut up. Even as I rang up his final purchase, the customer (who was probably on meth considering how much he was rambling and sweating) kept talking on and on. Eventually, he noticed Ogre standing at the side of the counter, giving him a disgusted look.

The customer seemed annoyed by this and said, “Your friend over there doesn’t seem to like me much. You’d better shake my hand.” And he reached over the counter and shook my fist with his overly-moist hand.

Ogre’s expression darkened.

Determined, the customer said, “That didn’t seem to work. You’d better shake my hand again.” Ogre became more irritated as a second awkward handshake was completed.

Sensing this, the customer walked to Ogre and said, “You’re definitely someone I don’t want mad at me. Here, shake my hand friend.”

Ogre’s deadpan response will be forever etched into my psyche. “No. I’m not your friend. And if you reach over the counter and touch my friend again, you’re going to get hurt bad. REAL BAD.”

Now, most people would back down when they heard this from a 300 pound hulk of a man with a shaved head towering over them, but meth is a hell of a drug. The customer threw his money at me and started ranting about how he was the customer and that he didn’t have to take this kind of shit. He grabbed his bag, rambled angrily for a few minutes and then stormed out of the store (I thought) for good.

Ogre sensed there was more trouble coming and stepped out the front door to make sure the customer left without further incident. What happened next was something I was certain I’d eventually be called to describe in front of a judge.

The customer peeled out through the parking lot and just about made it to the main road before noticing Ogre standing in the store’s entrance. He screeched in reverse, past the entrance and then slammed the gas while driving directly towards the store entrance. His car skidded to a stop mere inches away from the concrete barrier, erected to prevent incidents like this from becoming tragedies.

Ogre remained impassive throughout this rather idiotic driving display. His face displayed a visage of annoyed indifference as the customer, now drenched in sweat, ran up to him screaming, “Who do you think you are?!?”

I have to hand it to him, while I knew there’s nothing Ogre would rather do than to destroy this annoying little man, he stood his ground and waited for the other to make the first (if any) move. Fortunately, the customer eventually stopped screaming, went back to his care and tore out of the parking lot (again) for good. We both stood and watched as he backed up repeatedly to get his car facing the right direction to leave.

We went back inside, switched out registered and never spoke of the incident again.

I could write a separate blog about the adventures I’ve experienced with Ogre, but I’ll leave (most of) these stories for him to tell. I just wanted to give readers a good overview of what it’s like working with this tremendously loyal, and slightly scary, man.