Failed retail therapy

So, here's the story: I drove to Laguna Beach, because I'd never been there before. I stopped at two bookstores, where I chatted with some nice people about books, and then on my way back to my car, I noticed The Sunglass Hut and decided to get new sunglasses. When I went in, the fat guy behind the counter was telling his lone customer, a middle-aged lady, about polarized lenses. At the end of his speech, she said, "Gosh, I'd never even heard of polarized lenses before."

"They're not for everyone."

"Well, I'm going to have to think about whether I need them or not." And she split.

I said, "You're lucky -- I already know I want polarized lenses." I meant it as a little joke, but his cell phone rang just as I said it.

Then I did at least four laps of all the cases while he told someone, "I need the money before Friday! You can transfer it to my account! I gotta have the money!"

He hung up, said, "Sorry," and drummed his fingers on the counter. After a moment or two, he asked, "What are you here for?"

"Sunglasses."

"Do you want plastic frames or wire frames?"

"I'm not sure. But I do know I want polarized."

He then launched into the exact same polarized spiel he told the other lady. I kept trying to tell him I already knew I wanted polarized lenses, but he just talked over me.

Finally, I said, "Cut the spiel. I've heard it already. My last pair were polarized. I like polarized. I am going to buy polarized."

He stared at me. Then he asked again whether I wanted plastic or wire. I said, "My last pair was wire, but there's a chance I might find them again, so I'm thinking I should get plastic this time. I have a small face, though, so wire maybe looks better on me."

"And...the answer is?"

"I'm not sure."

I went from case to case, pointing and asking, "Is that polarized? How about that one?" He answered yes or no so quietly, I almost thought I was just imagining the tension.

Every so often, he'd say, "You know, it'd be a lot easier on me if you'd just tell me whether you want plastic or wire."

"I'm not sure."

Finally, when I asked to see both a plastic and a wire frame at the same time, he yelled: "How am I supposed to help you when you refuse to tell me whether you want plastic or wire??"

We stared at each other a moment, like two animals contemplating mutual destruction. Then I said, "I've changed my mind. I don't want to buy sunglasses today." I started heading out.

"You know what? F--- YOU! F--- YOU!!!!"

I turned around. "Pardon?"

"F--- YOU AND GET OUT OF MY STORE!!"

"This is your store?"

"F--- YOU! GET OUT OF MY STORE!"

I thought, once I explain things, he'll feel bad.

"What did I do?"

"I asked you, do you want plastic or wire frames! You don't answer. I try to tell you about polarized lenses. You call it a spiel! Well, f--- you, bitch! Get out of my store!"

I waited until he paused for air, then said, "You know, today is the anniversary of my mom's death, and I'm a bit distracted. So, I'm sorry I didn't seem sensitive to your spiel."

Maybe if I had come up with another word besides spiel, it would have worked, but my heart was pounding and it was hard to think. Anyway, it just set him off anew. "I'm sorry about your mom, but you were rude to me. I want you out of my store!"

Then...I can't believe I said this, but...I said, "Someday, after your mom dies, if she's not already dead," (I tried to look sympathetic as I said this, thinking maybe he was an orphan and that's why he was so horrible), "maybe you'll remember this and learn to be a bit more polite."

A couple walked in just as I was saying that. I am not really happy I said that.

He screamed, "You come in here, you try and make me guess what you want, plastic or wire, you won't let me tell you what polarized means, and now you're insulting my mom. F--- YOU, C--T!!!!"

The woman shook her head at her husband and they left.

Suddenly, I had an insight: "Are you on drugs?"

He screamed just like that Democratic candidate in the last primaries, who lost the election when he went, "We're going to Ohio, then Nebraska, then Wyoming! AAAHAGAHGAHTEYAAA!" Then he ran out from behind the counter into the backroom, waving his arms. I really thought he was going to come back with a gun or something. So, I left.