A large gentleman in a bad mood was standing in front of me in red faced bellow. Is there a worse way to begin a paragraph than that? Okay, maybe if he was wielding a machete or raging hard on or both, but you must admit, that’s not a good start.
It doesn’t matter why he was upset. It wasn’t my fault (it was, here’s the shocker, his) but it is up to me to put a calm in the proceedings.
I’m doing it in a very unsuccessful manner if his continued agitation is any indication. He’s gone through his range of emotions (which are: disbelief, anger, anger, anger, threat, threat, threat. He’s quite the evolved humanoid) and now must try to explain that my continued lack of helpfulness will be dealt with severely.
“I’m a bouncer.”
I’m aware of that. I helped you spell your street name on a form.
“You gotta do this.”
How’s it feel to be on the other side of the proverbial velvet ropes, Neckboy?
“I’m much bigger than you.”
Now this is when he became a broken record. I guess that was his tada moment because he kept closing with it.
And, yes, he was totally right about it. The top of his head was 12-14 inches away from mine. He was at least twice my weight (but don’t hold me to that. I was fired from the carny guessing booth when I was younger).
Generally speaking, much bigger.
By now I happen to see that the clock has wound down on my work day. I didn’t say my work day was over. I just said I’ve stopped getting paid.
I wonder if workman’s comp covers what is potentially in my future? Hey! Let’s find out together, why don’t we?
I move toward the door motioning him to join me. In one step he’s there. Boy, you know what? He IS much larger than me.
So there we are, standing toe to toe (because they were our only body part that matched up) and, as he looks down while leaning over me, he repeats,
“I’m much bigger than you.”
“I know!” I say opening the door. “And I’m much smarter than you but you don’t see me pointing out the obvious, do you?”
I put my hand on the small of his back (which wasn’t all that small) and guide him toward the other side of the about to be locked door.
In the immortal words of Roger Murtaugh,
“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
The Bound & Gags Wonder Blog 
Your ability to dodge ass-whoopin’s still amazes me!
This’ll look nice on your resume:
“Delicate situations, and impending maiming and/or death de-escalation scenarios a specialty.”
dude i hope you have a giant plexiglass wall between you and all these nuts.
I am surprised that he didn’t get you for “sexual harrassment” (for your unwanted touching ….then again …)
You are a mental giant.
I keep a fire extinguisher close by for the bigger guys.
Ok, the fire extinguisher is good, follow it up with a wooden dowel about 6″ in circumference that is 4′ long like my grandmother’s rolling pin SHE USED TO CHASE AWAY BIGGER BULLIES down the street. She also used it for macaroni and pizza dough. YES she washed it after hitting them or prodding their fat gut. SHE WAS ONLY 5′ TALL BUT CARRIED A BIG STICK. She’s not here any longer. Her Stick is right by the back of the door!!
TB: You? Every day I don’t get more stitches I’m amazed.
Harv: That WILL look good on my business card.
Al: I don’t even have a salad bar sneeze guard to protect me.
E: I said I touched the small of his back not his small sack.
MTAE: Coming from you that sounds insulting.
Abby: My boss even took away my bat. He was afraid it would give someone rabies.
that makes no sense bats sleep all day and your bat had no teeth
your bat must have been sleeping in your boss’s belfry
try bringing in a tennis racket and a couple of balls
throw you boss off by hitting the balls against the wall a couple of times a month
BTW: I was going to let it slide but – I can spell my own street name – abnormal
Well, at least you get to use the small of the back to guide out your neanderthals. I have to reach in, and grab a fistful of shirt…