An Arrogant Ass Monkey

This week at work, I had to deal with a guy who was a total ass monkey.

Here’s what happened:

A man in his mid-fifties (I’m guessing) came into my office. He was average in stature, had white hair and piercing blue eyes. He strutted to my desk. I did an internal eye roll, not in the least bit intimidated by him.

"What’s your cash price for propane?" he asked.

"The price for propane," I said, "whether you’re paying cash, check, or credit card is $1.29 a gallon."

He smirked. "Well, I’ve been receiving nasty letters from you guys, so I’m here to pay my bill."

Side Note: I sent him one letter because I left a couple messages on his answering machine regarding his outstanding balance, and he never called me back. For the record, the letter is not a nasty one.

I pulled up his account on the computer and told him how much he owed. He withdrew a huge wad of cash out of his pocket, acting like a big shot. He then asked me how much it would cost for 300 gallons of propane on top of what he already owed. I added it up, and when I turned to tell him, there were twenty dollar bills scattered all over my desk.

"Is that the right amount?" I asked him, eyeing the money.

He smirked again. "Don’t you know how to count? Where did you go to school?"

I gathered the bills. "Do I look that stupid?" I proceeded to count them under his watchful eyes, refusing to get flustered.

"No," he answered. "But you never know about pretty blondes."

Omigod! Who is this ass monkey?

I meant to tell him it wasn’t right to stereotype people. But I was so stunned by his comment I said, "You shouldn’t be hypercritical. Just because somebody looks a certain way, doesn’t mean they’re like that."

He shrugged it off and asked me again where I went to school. I ignored him and wrote out a receipt. When I handed him his copy, he locked his eyes on mine and stared at me. A slow smile crossed his face, and then somebody walked in and he left.

Later on that day, I told my driver (Bob) about the guy. Bob told me he knew who he was, and he’d heard the guy was busted for being a peeping Tom.


Can you believe it, though?

Kevin told me I should have responded to the where-did-you-go-to-school comment with this retort in a hillbilly accent: "I was in the sixth grade three times, and I know my gazintas. One gazinta. Two gazintas. Three gazintas."

I laughed.

And you know what? I have a feeling I’ll be seeing that guy again, and if he behaves like he did this week, I’ll act like a half-witted hillbilly chick and throw in some gazintas for good measure.