Nutso in the Buttso

I've recently discovered that crazy takes a new form in a man named..."Chad." I'm gonna call him "Chad" because he's so freakin' nuts I don't even want to flirt with danger by naming him specifically. I may also refer to him by his original pseudonym, "Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy." Ya know what? I think I'll just call him that. It fits. Forget about "Chad". I am relieved to report that I am not the object of Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy's obsession. He has one of my co-workers in his cross-hairs. If I were the one he wanted, I wouldn't be blogging right now. I'd be busy arming myself with a taser gun, pepper spray, and rape whistle. Continue reading with a healthy mixture of amusement and horror.

Let me preface by saying that I work for a corporation that owns salons and spas throughout North America, and during my pregnancy I have been assisting the Regional Director as she opens a couple of new locations in the Dallas area. Normally it's a lot of fun and I enjoy meeting new people. Unfortunately, I have had a bad spell of luck this week and have unearthed a treasure trove of crazy, the likes of which I've never seen before.

The Scene: Wednesday afternoon at the mall. Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy paces back in forth in front of the salon for several minutes while loudly having what he must want known as "an important business call" on his mobile phone. You know, because he's an important business man. And don't all important business men conduct their business on their mobile phone at the mall in the middle of the afternoon? Bill Gates gets his best work done when he's standing between Forever 21 and Game Stop. I bet.

So, Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy stops loitering in front of the salon and strolls in asking for a haircut, as if on a whim. I'm sure it's an impulsive decison and not a plot he's been formulating for the past 15 minutes while standing in front of the salon on an important business call. Because he's an important business man. I just can't emphasize this point enough. Because he so clearly wanted me to know he's an important business man. I want you to know it, too.

His look is a carefully crafted one. He's a man in his mid-thirties of above-average height and above-average looks. And an above-average amount of hair product in his carefully coifed 'do. His perfectly starched dress shirt and smartly tied red tie say what his body language and conversation's subtext have been screaming for the past 15 minutes: "I am an important business man!"

One of my stylists takes Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy to her station, and the next 30 minutes pass without incident. As he's checking out, he gushes about what a terrific haircut he just got and how he'd happily pay double the price. He pays cash and tips generously, while conducting yet another important business call. He drops some impressive words and tidbits: clients, depositions, $30,000 checks. While he's discussing the $30,000 checks, he actually takes two checks out of his pocket totalling $30,000 and tosses them absent-mindedly onto the counter in front of me. Don't play it so casual, Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy. I know you threw those checks out for my benefit, and believe me, I am so impressed with you right now!

We wait until he's safely out the door and around the corner before we begin making fun of him. Take note, all you men out there: if you act like a goober who tries too hard to impress, you will be mocked mercilessly behind your back. The stylist tells us that he never shut up the entire time he sat in her chair. We couldn't hear any of it, but you can probably guess what he talked about -- important business man things. Also, he tells her that he had noticed her much earlier in the day when walking in the mall and had no idea she actually worked in the mall and cut hair. How serendipitous for Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy. He cushions this revelation with assurances that he is not a crazy stalker. We all share nervous, uneasy laughter. It's kinda funny, kinda not. He returns moments later, and because my face will betray me every time I try to conceal my thoughts, I know that all the color has drained from my face because I am certain he was lurking nearby and heard me laugh at what a crazy coke-head he acted like. And he certainly heard me question what an important business man is doing at the mall in the middle of the afternoon. Wouldn't someone of his stature have...I don't know...an assistant who he could have sent to the Apple store to do his bidding for him? Now he has returned with a rebuttal to my statements. How will I proceed from here? With caution, I decide. I am relieved when he walks past me and approaches the stylist. They briefly exchange words that I am unable to overhear (you know I tried.)

Once Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy is gone (for real this time) we learn that in his coked-out haze he has forgotten where he parked. But he remembers he followed our stylist into the mall, so if she would be so kind as to tell him where she parked, he may locate his car and get back to the office, where undoubtedly important business man duties await him.

At this point you're probably saying, "You're right, Sam, this guy is nutso in the buttso!© " And my reply to you would be, "You haven't heard the worst of it!" Fast forward to this morning: my stylist walks into the salon and slaps onto the counter a business card with a handwritten note scribbled on the back:

"Hey there just wanted to thank you for the talk enjoyed- I want to take you out soon just dinner, you can google me. I am not a crazy person but you are amazing"

"You can Google me?" Evidently, Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer guy is not a lawyer at all, but the President of his own company. And if that weren't impressive on it's own, he's also adept at breaking into cars, because this business card/love note/proposition was sitting in the driver's seat of her (locked) car!  ...and...cue the comparisons to famous psychos of American cinema. She asked me, "Do you think he'll come back again for a haircut?" and I replied, "Of course he'll be back, how else does he expect to make a lampshade out of you?" Too soon for a Silence of the Lambs joke? For answers to that question and more, I consulted my brother, Jarred, Three Mutts and a Baby's resident expert in appropriate humor and sensitivity training. He suggested that "she should get really drunk and help him move. That will end well for her."

I do not know what the future holds for our stylist and Crazy Coked-Out Lawyer Guy, but I predict it ends in a restraining order.

*Nutso in the Buttso © copyright 2010 | Jarred