Munchies
Although the free bread is an attraction to everyone, it is particularly beloved by the kids and occasional 20-something who like to hang out in the park across the street and get stoned. I dont mind any of these people much, since they are EXTREMELY focused on getting their bread and getting out with it- ok, well, as focused as they get on anything.
There is this one kid I like to call Hair Boy. He is your typical 19 year old skinny male, who still looks more like a kid than a man. He has semi long stringy black hair that always hangs curtain-like on either side of his pale face, and he usually wears a black hat that says 'Sex Pistols' on it.
When he first came in he was a 'grunt and point and maybe mumble' sort of breadboard user, but we seem to have come to an understanding after I made him wait several times for a slice while I looked at him in a puzzled way and then forced him to interact with society by asking slowly and clearly,
"What kind of bread do you want? I couldn't hear/understand what you said?" and then making a comment about the weather or the bread or whatever.
Im not quite sure WHY I bothered with this effort, but I think it just bothered me that I saw him almost every afternoon six days a week and he couldnt even speak audibly to me. At any rate, we seem to be past that because he now enunciates clearly for me and has even met my eyes a couple of times and said please and thank you to me. I dont count on this being a lasting relationship or anything- just when I expected him to speak to me last week, he was back to mumbling and dashing off with the slice. But he looked pissed off about something (so punk rock of him!) so I let it slide and just gave him his bread.
The other day he came in with a blonde kid who looked JUST like Spinelli in 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' right down to the vacuous look in his eyes and the goofy smile. Hair Boy asked for his slice and then his pal pointed to the white bread and asked,
"What kinda bread is that?"
To which Hair Boy replied in an irritated voice,
"It's WHITE, moron." And since that was pretty much what I was thinking I stifled a smile. The pal looked at me and giggled, saying confidentially,
"Sorry, I'm um,m, not really all here right now, ya know?
And immediately Hair Boy gives him a sharp elbow to the ribs and HISSES,
"Shut UP, man!" cutting his eyes away from me as if disassociating himself from his uncouth companion before heading for the door with the pal trailing after him.
It was so funny, I was laughing out loud after they left. I mean, I just wanted to lean forward and whisper in an exaggerated voice,
"It's OK. I KNOW YOU ARE STONED. I will just give you your free munchie bread and I will not nark you out."
It was that sort of classic stoned person thing where they assume NO ONE would ever guess what they do on the park benches by the War Memorial every day for hours. In fact, Officer P, our local beat cop knows this kid by name. He knows what he does, where he lives, and even that he was supposed to be getting a job at a Ben and Jerry's but it seems to have fallen through.
One of Officer P's best qualities though is a tremendous sense of descretion about what is actually important to pursue and prosecute and what things in life you just cant do much but keep an eye on. He can name every juvinile delinquient in the area going back about thirty years to when HE was in high school and he has a calm and easy attitude about dealing with them that I really admire.
At the same time, he is a big guy, maybe six foot three or so, and I would not want to mess with him- if I had to call the cops for anything at the bakery, he would be my preferred respondant.
I was telling Bridget about the incident with Hair Boy and his pal and she snorted and said,
"Yeah, he couldnt manage to make it to class on time so he dropped out of school, but he can show up at the Tasty Dog parking lot everyday at exactly three PM to hang out with his friends and sell weed and get people to buy him food."
so I suppose that is Hair Boy's gig and I always wonder when I see him around in the park or outside of the library or whatever if he even recognizes me outside of my bread-handing out capacity, or if we are all just random blurs to him.
But then again, I wonder that about most of my customers. So maybe they have more in common with Hair Boy than they would like to think.
There is this one kid I like to call Hair Boy. He is your typical 19 year old skinny male, who still looks more like a kid than a man. He has semi long stringy black hair that always hangs curtain-like on either side of his pale face, and he usually wears a black hat that says 'Sex Pistols' on it.
When he first came in he was a 'grunt and point and maybe mumble' sort of breadboard user, but we seem to have come to an understanding after I made him wait several times for a slice while I looked at him in a puzzled way and then forced him to interact with society by asking slowly and clearly,
"What kind of bread do you want? I couldn't hear/understand what you said?" and then making a comment about the weather or the bread or whatever.
Im not quite sure WHY I bothered with this effort, but I think it just bothered me that I saw him almost every afternoon six days a week and he couldnt even speak audibly to me. At any rate, we seem to be past that because he now enunciates clearly for me and has even met my eyes a couple of times and said please and thank you to me. I dont count on this being a lasting relationship or anything- just when I expected him to speak to me last week, he was back to mumbling and dashing off with the slice. But he looked pissed off about something (so punk rock of him!) so I let it slide and just gave him his bread.
The other day he came in with a blonde kid who looked JUST like Spinelli in 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' right down to the vacuous look in his eyes and the goofy smile. Hair Boy asked for his slice and then his pal pointed to the white bread and asked,
"What kinda bread is that?"
To which Hair Boy replied in an irritated voice,
"It's WHITE, moron." And since that was pretty much what I was thinking I stifled a smile. The pal looked at me and giggled, saying confidentially,
"Sorry, I'm um,m, not really all here right now, ya know?
And immediately Hair Boy gives him a sharp elbow to the ribs and HISSES,
"Shut UP, man!" cutting his eyes away from me as if disassociating himself from his uncouth companion before heading for the door with the pal trailing after him.
It was so funny, I was laughing out loud after they left. I mean, I just wanted to lean forward and whisper in an exaggerated voice,
"It's OK. I KNOW YOU ARE STONED. I will just give you your free munchie bread and I will not nark you out."
It was that sort of classic stoned person thing where they assume NO ONE would ever guess what they do on the park benches by the War Memorial every day for hours. In fact, Officer P, our local beat cop knows this kid by name. He knows what he does, where he lives, and even that he was supposed to be getting a job at a Ben and Jerry's but it seems to have fallen through.
One of Officer P's best qualities though is a tremendous sense of descretion about what is actually important to pursue and prosecute and what things in life you just cant do much but keep an eye on. He can name every juvinile delinquient in the area going back about thirty years to when HE was in high school and he has a calm and easy attitude about dealing with them that I really admire.
At the same time, he is a big guy, maybe six foot three or so, and I would not want to mess with him- if I had to call the cops for anything at the bakery, he would be my preferred respondant.
I was telling Bridget about the incident with Hair Boy and his pal and she snorted and said,
"Yeah, he couldnt manage to make it to class on time so he dropped out of school, but he can show up at the Tasty Dog parking lot everyday at exactly three PM to hang out with his friends and sell weed and get people to buy him food."
so I suppose that is Hair Boy's gig and I always wonder when I see him around in the park or outside of the library or whatever if he even recognizes me outside of my bread-handing out capacity, or if we are all just random blurs to him.
But then again, I wonder that about most of my customers. So maybe they have more in common with Hair Boy than they would like to think.
posted by ReesieKitty at 9:42 PM
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