Customer Profile: That Guy
You know. That guy. Yes, you do. The one who’s always there. Nondescript. Not smart, not dumb, not a jock, not a geek. Just… that guy.
What was he wearing? Jeans. Maybe khakis. A black jacket. Possibly navy blue. Leather. Probably. Dress shoes or Chucks, definitely one of those. Or cowboy boots. Or were they flip flops.
Did you talk to him? Of course you did. Or maybe you just said ‘excuse me’ so you could get to the bartender. Potentially there was a shared look but that was definitely it. You hardly noticed him. What guy?
Does it matter? Does he matter? Who? That guy. We were just talking about him, remember? Pinstripe suit and wingtips? Silk tie? Or maybe it was a utilikilt and a top hat. No, he wasn’t smoking, we don’t allow it. May have been a pipe. Or a cigar. Probably, definitely not cigarettes. Or cloves. Maybe it was cloves.
Stop distracting me. Matter. Why it matters. Because… because… I know there’s a reason, I can’t remember…
Who went to the bank last night? No, I didn’t, I locked up and went home, you were supposed to… the guy? What guy?
Motherfucker. That guy. That guy fucking robbed us.
Again.
You know, that guy!
Wait, what were we talking about?
WHAT GUY?!
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