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LY/MI

Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation and

and Muscular Dystrophy Association.
 

 

 

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Copyright © 2004, 2005 Robin Costello. All rights reserved.

Back Stories
Mr. KAKI PANTS

The night I was robbed *No tissues needed*

One night, right after I got back from my last Disney trip and during my epic trip report, I got a run to a very nice neighborhood in the next town over from our store. I was actually looking forward to going there because it is a very nice neighborhood and I didn’t have to worry about anything stupid happening.

Only an idiot would think nothing stupid could happen in a very nice neighborhood, enter me.

I went to this pretty cape-style home with an extremely well taken care of lawn. There was a two car garage attached to the house where the door with the light was on. The owners had decorated their home very nicely, with harvest type decorations for Halloween along the side of the house covering the doorbell. I didn’t want to mess up their decorations so I knocked on the door, hoping they would hear me through the garage.

A clean cut man, about 5’10, 220lbs wearing kaki pants and a dress shirt opened the door. I remember this because it’s the same description I had to give the police. I complemented him on the decorations around his home and told him I couldn’t find his doorbell. Mr. ‘kaki pants’ was happy to show me where the doorbell was hidden and I couldn’t help thinking, ‘I don’t need the doorbell NOW, your standing right here.’

I didn’t know then that I would be back and the doorbell would be very useful later.

I bet he was sorry for showing me where the doorbell was.

I handed him his order totaling $27. He handed me the money folded in half, said ‘There’s a little something for you.’ and pushed the door closed very quickly. I thought he looked at me a little oddly, I assumed it was a tip he was talking about, thanked him through the closed door and walked back to my truck without counting the money.

I usually always count the money at the door, but I was in a very nice neighborhood at a pretty cape-style home with a hidden doorbell, dealing with a clean cut man in kaki pants. I had nothing to worry about.

I am such an idiot.

I returned to the store to count the folded money and drop it into my cash box. There was one ten and one five dollar bill. Inside of those were six ‘monopoly’ looking two dollars bills. ‘What the…?’

I showed them to my boss and he told me the coupons are given out FREE to parents from the school. The customer pays full price for their food and gives the driver the coupon, the store donates two dollars for each coupon back to the school. It’s a fund raiser to collect $80,000 for the school, two dollars at a time. They have no cash value to anyone but the school. The customer must pay full price for their food and can only use one for each order.

Great, Mr. ‘kaki pants’ owes me $12.00 ‘That’s the price of a refillable mug at Pop Century.’ I was thinking to myself and I wanted my money. At the end of the night, the store totals up my sales and that’s what I have to pay out of my cash box. That $12.00 was coming out of my pocket, not the stores.

I called Mr. ‘kaki pants’ and tried telling him there was a misunderstanding, that the money he had given the driver wasn’t legal tender and the driver would be coming back to collect the $12.00. I didn’t want him to know I was the driver, I don’t know why; I was trying to sound like a friendly manager.

He said something nasty to me about knowing what he did and hung up on me mid-sentence.

That was very rude.

My boss told me to call the police. I was still surprised at what Mr. ‘kaki pants’ said to me. He knew the coupons weren’t money, that’s why he closed the door so quick. He did it on purpose.

I called back and got Mr. ‘kaki pants’ answering machine. The answering machine was friendly enough so at the beep I said, “Sorry sir, seams that we were disconnected. I just want you to know the driver is on the way back to your house and you have one of two choices available to you, you can pay the driver the money you owe or we can send the police to your home to collect it.” I waited a few seconds thinking that Mr. ‘kaki pants’ would pick up the phone and we could work this out without involving the police. Please Mr. ‘kaki pants’ pick up your phone and don’t make me waste the police officers time.

Mr. ‘kaki pants’ had his chance. I still didn’t believe I was going to need to call the police, I mean, surly he would want to make this right, living in a very nice neighborhood and all. Who wants to get arrested over $12.00?

I took another run and went back to the very nice neighborhood with the pretty cape-style home and extremely well taken care of lawn. I really believed that we could work this out, I would be paid my $12.00 and go back to work.

I must have still had a ‘pixie dust’ buzz going on from our Disney trip to believe it was going to be that easy.

I left my truck running and the door wide open. I knocked on the door attached to the garage again and waited. Nothing.

I gently moved the harvest decorations aside to find the hidden doorbell and rang it. Still nothing.

I was rehearsing my speech in my head of what I was going to say to Mr. ‘kaki pants’ when he finally opened the door. For some reason I was convinced that people who live in these pretty cape-style homes are civilized human beings who can be reasoned with. I was getting pretty mad because I knew he deliberately gave me the stupid ‘monopoly money’ coupons knowing full well that they weren’t legal tender and now he was wasting my time.

I rang the hidden doorbell about 14 times in a row, all at once. I was getting sick of being ignored and wanted my Pop Century refillable mug money. I was done playing games with Mr. ‘kaki pants.’

When the door FINALLY was flung open I met Mr. ‘kaki pants’ finger-waving wife. I could imagine under different circumstances she was a very pretty lady. At that moment however, her face was all twisted up and she was using some of the foulest language I had ever heard.

I fought the urge to laugh because it sounded so ridiculous coming out of the mouth of someone who looks like she worked in a law office or something. She had very nicely styled hair, fashionable clothes, a lovely manicure and a big ring on the finger she was waving ½ inch away from my nose.

She was screaming at me to get back in my truck and go back to the store. She was also screaming that she had my boss on the phone and would have my job.

Lady, trust me, you don’t want my job right now. Why do you want my job anyway?

The crazy finger-waving lady scared me and I almost went back to my truck. I jumped back in surprise because of the language coming out of her mouth and because her finger was getting very close to my nose. I am so glad I didn’t push her hand away, because she probably would have tried to have me arrested for assault or something stupid.

I stood my ground and when the crazy finger-waving lady finally stopped screaming for a second I calmly told her “I would be happy to leave after I am paid my money. Pay me my money or I am calling the police.”

I have heard of people going ballistic, I had never actually witnessed it until then.

She was screaming ‘How dare YOU? How dare you threaten ME?’

My reply was still very calm even though I was a little scared “It is not a threat madam, it is a promise, and I promise I will bring the police.”

I am glad that she was going so bananas and I couldn’t help but stare at her because if I had turned away for one second I wouldn’t have seen Mr. ‘kaki pants’ when he came flying out the door of the house that was inside the garage. He had his phone in his hand and was telling the crazy finger-waving wife to call the police because he was going to pound the (bad word) out of me as he was running at me.

Thanks for the head start Mr. ‘kaki pants’, don’t think I’ll be sticking around for that.

I ran to my truck, jumped in and hit the power locks.

It’s interesting how much higher up the power locks are in your vehicle when you are panicking. I jammed my finger straight down on the lock and bent my middle finger backwards.

I decided to remove the sticker from the side-view mirror that says “Caution, objects are closer than they appear” and put it on my steering wheel as a reminder of where the power locks are located when I got back to the store.

Great, now I was injured.

Mr. ‘kaki pants’ was still screaming at his wife to call the police. Through my rolled up window I yelled to him “She can’t! YOU have the phone!”

Mr. ‘kaki pants’ was a dummy.

What I didn’t know was on the other end of the phone was my boss. He heard Mr. ‘kaki pants’ threaten to ‘pound the (bad word)’ out of me. He had already called the police.

“Don’t worry; I have the police on speed dial for people like you.” I said to Mr. ‘kaki pants’ through the window as I whipped out my cell phone.

People like him don’t want to be called ‘people like you’ by people like me. Get that?

Mr. ‘kaki pants’ started kicking my front tire. I don’t like my front tire kicked by ‘people like him’ so I started to back out of his driveway.

He tried to put his foot under my tire to stop me.

He really is a dummy.

Couldn’t decide if he wanted me to stay or go, I guess.

I was going no matter where his foot was.

I only went as far as the street to get off his property and onto public property incase I had to charge this guy with vandalism along with theft.

So I called the police as Mr. ‘kaki pants’ and his crazy finger-waving wife went back into their house to scream at my boss that they still had on the phone.

The dispatcher already knew my story when I called and told me the officers where already on their way. “Are you injured, madam?” She asked me.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I bent my middle finger backwards when I hit my power-locks. Really smarts. I wouldn’t object to you sending some handsome firemen.” I told her.

I made a friend. She laughed. She suggested I file a claim with Workman’s Comp. Surely the insurance company would understand that when your job is that of a driver, the middle finger is the most important finger out of them all. Think of it as a tool of the trade.

I’m joking; I never use the middle finger.

Okay, once. But she started it.

Anyway, I hung up with the police and was lonely, so I decided to call my boss and let him know where I was and tell him about Mr. ‘Kaki pants’ and his crazy finger-waving wife.

I got as far as “Hi, it’s me…..” when he stared yelling “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
I told him about my serious middle finger injury and the request of some handsome firemen.

He did NOT think it was funny. The last thing he had heard was Mr. ‘Kaki pants’ threat and then some sounds of kicking.

Yeah, I bet that sounded pretty bad on the other end of the phone.

When Mr. ‘Kaki pants’ was doing that, my boss was yelling “DON’T TOUCH MY DRIVER! SHE IS A MOTHER OF THREE KIDS!”

It was the words ‘she’ and ‘mother’ that upset the rest of the store. They all knew which driver was in trouble at that point and they were all flipping out.

I am still THANKING GOD that it was Commando Nikki’s night off from work. I can’t imagine what those few minutes would have been like for her.

The guys were trying to break into the computer to find out where I was, because the computer tracks and times us every time we leave the store. You need a code to do that, and my boss didn’t want to make a bad situation even worse by have 10 guys show up there.

I didn’t need the guys, the police showed up very quickly.

Without the handsome firemen.

So, I received my money from Mr. ‘Kaki pants’ in front of the officers because he was going to go to jail if he didn’t and I offered him back his coupons. He told me where I could put them.

I put them in my pocket instead.

When I got back to the store, you would have thought I just returned from Iraq. There was hugging and a few tears….

But no concern at all over my injured middle finger.

I hope to one day meet Mr. ‘Kaki pants’ and his finger waving wife at a parent-teacher conference. I already know what I’m going to say to him.

Love ya, Mean it.

 

Love Ya / Mean It and BadShoe.com Pins

Tony, Delaney, Connor - Love Ya / Mean It

Robin & Del, Kimball & Bennet (aka Delswife & Scuba Steve, Zurgswife & Zurg) are proud to announce two unique limited edition trading pins to benefit research to help find cures for Juvenile Diabetes and Muscular Dystrophy.

We love going to Disney World and writing funny trip reports, after all it is how we became friends.  We care just as much or more about helping these two great causes. All the profits from pin sales will go to JDRF and MDA because, well, Robin thought it would be a fun idea.

So if you enjoy the trip reports please chip in and buy a pin or two. Pins are $10.00 each including shipping and handling (North America.) Send an email to pins@badshoe.com with how many pins you would like and we will get the pins rolling.

If you feel inspired click either MDA or JDRF's logo or both and make additional contributions.