[An online conversation between assorted Forge employees.]
Robert (the newest Forgeling): “A customer claiming to be the last surviving heir to the Heldenfels fortune is flirting with me. The stories he’s telling are mind-boggling.”
Nuke: “How methy does he look?”
Me: “Southern queen? Kinda tooth-deficient?”
Nuke: “Does he have a cane and white hair pulled back in a ponytail?”
Rok: “Has he made costumes for Cher?”
Robert: “…”
I feel a little bad that Robert’s report of the weirdest customer ever was met with a jaded “Which one?” But on the upside, he a) successfully navigated the transaction, and b) did not run screaming from the building afterwards. I mean, he still needs to survive the oily drunk who tries to spank everyone, the sweaty hippie who always wants hugs, and the tall, bearish dude who doesn’t understand personal space and who also strikes me as someone neighbors would describe as “quiet, kept to himself” while police excavate bodies from beneath his porch. But barring those particular tests of fortitude, I do believe our Robert is going to work out just fine.
