Gail Burt of Metropolis Comics in Bellflower, California saw Steven Bates column (see 'I Think I Can Manage--Where Everybody Knows Your Name') on the comic/game store as Cheers, and found a connection to her own experiences:
Boy, have we had the same handful of experiences as Steven talks about -- customers who become so much more than that, for better or for worse.
Over the years, I've developed a way of interacting with the kids who come into my store that seems to work very well; half grouch, half kindly aunt -- the kids seem to find the mixture almost irresistible, and many hang around quite a bit. When they're hanging out in the store, usually reading (which, by the way, some of you will be horrified to know, I'm sure, I actually encourage) our comics, if I see them mishandling or being careless with something, I will holler at them. One particular kid was handling a book a little roughly, so I hollered at him, 'Hey -- whaddya doin?' The kid cringed a little, then showed me. 'Okay, bud, here's the thing,' I said, 'Do you have money to buy that?' The kid shook his head. 'Okay, then, be careful with it. I don't want you to be as careful with it as if it were your own. I see how you take care of your stuff. I want you to be as careful as if it were MINE, because it is unless you buy it, right? Now sit down and lay it on the table, like this.' (I showed him how.) One of our lady customers who comes in almost every week at the same time gave me a little bit of a talking-to about how harsh I was with this boy. I told her I was sure he was fine.
Next time he came in -- with his friend -- our lady customer happened to be there again, and watched agape as he repeated to his pal, almost word for word, what I said to him, and then he showed his friend how to handle our books, as if I had never coached him. When he saw me standing there looking on, he beamed at me, begging me not to rat him out. 'That's right,' I told his pal, 'Listen to Jorge, here, because he knows all about how to handle comics, doncha, Jorge?' I winked at him, and the kid just grinned. I squeezed his shoulder as I walked past him. A few minutes later, Jorge came excitedly to tell me that his friend was probably going to read comics now, because of how much Jorge loved them, and that he got his buddy hooked on 'em. 'Jorge, it's a good thing you're doing for the company here, buddy,' I told him with a smile - then he actually runs behind my counter, gives me a very fast, surreptitious hug, and runs back to his buddy. I looked at our lady customer and casually said, 'You can see how they hate me.'
Other incidents: one of our guys asking if he can use me as a personal reference for a car loan -- no obligation to me; just wanted to know if he could put my name and the store's number there. This guy has no closer friends than me. Sweet, but kind of sad. One kid spent his allowance to buy me a toy because he loved me, and shyly presented me with it one afternoon. I still have it. One customer brings us food every time she comes in. Home made tamales and the like. Mmm. And on the note of consoling some in their grief... one of our customers changed the way I live my life a few weeks ago, when he called and told me brokenly that his wife was killed. I knew her, too. It broke my heart, and it haunted me. I made the decision then that the dearest of my friends I was in touch with, I would reach out to more often, and those I was not in touch with, I would find and reconnect with them. I've done this, and now spend some time at least once a week to call each of them -- 6 or 7 people that I love deeply, one whom I had not talked with in 15 years. If they have five minutes, we talk five minutes. If they have an hour (or I do), we talk an hour. If they aren't there, I leave a message just to let them know I thought of them this week, and love them, always.
Some of these encounters can be entertaining, annoying. I've found most of them to be life-enhancing. They certainly have changed my life and the way I live it.