Lessons from a bounty hunter

I’ve mentioned that I used to work in a couple of auto parts store. I started out as a stock boy, delivery boy, and then moved on to counterman/manager/outside salesman over the course of about 8 years. We had some interesting people come through on a regular basis, but one of the most colorful had to be the guy known only as “The Bounty Hunter”.

1st encounter: I am in the back stock room doing inventory of the restock items, checking numbers and marking them off the list, when I am brutally attacked from behind. I’m 15 years old by the way. My arms are pulled back behind by back, handcuffs are slapped on them and I am torn over the back of the chair and dragged backwards kicking and trying to free myself. He drags me through the front of the store and out the front door and as I look up I see all of the countermen laughing. He stands me up outside and takes off the handcuffs and says “you have always got to be prepared for an attack. I could have had you in a car and gone forever, right in front of everyone, and you didn’t do a thing about it.” I had never met the guy before in my life. He says “I’m the bounty hunter”. The bounty hunter…not a bounty hunter..THE bounty hunter, and that is how he is known to everyone to this day, if he is still alive, that is.

He was older and had a weathered face, gristly looking dude, the kind of guy you would look at and say he is either homeless or a killer and most likely, both.

2^nd encounter: I am helping a customer at the front counter and he walks in the side door. The customer leaves and he walks up with a 12 gauge assault shotgun with a mounted flashlight and a shell tube that must hold at least 10 shells. He throws it on the counter and says “Have you ever seen a ‘Can’ gun before?” I say “A can gun?” He says “Yup, Mexi-can, Puertori-can, Afri-can.” Now, when a racist has a gun, maybe this isn’t the time to call him out, so I just giggle and say a little prayer that he does not attack me again.

3^rd encounter: Again, I’m helping someone at the counter. He doesn’t wait for the person to leave, but strolls up (he kinda had a limp) and as I turn my attention to the customer, he throws a leg up on the counter. A frikin’ leg. It is a prosthetic. He unstrapped the thing and threw it on the counter. One legged bastard got me again. He then tells me how he has been shot, stabbed, run over..”And those are just wounds from my Ex’s, hehehe.”

4^th and 5^th encounter: I mention to him that I wanted to find a switch blade knife, and did he know where I could find one. He pulled one out of his pocket and I admired it. Next time in, he threw me one and said, “you can have it”. It had a pink pearl handle, but still was awesome. I’m still not sure if that was another way for him to call me a girl, but I still have it 16 years later. He was now handing out illegal weapons to minors.

6^th encounter: I get bold and ask him what the toughest guy he ever took into custody was like. He says “I’ve taken some big guys but I’ll pick them any day over a woman. Women are mean and it may not hurt the same when they punch you, but they’ll run you over with their damn car. I’ve never had a guy try to run me over, but women will run you down, they want you dead.”

Sometime later: He came in fairly often, always with a wacky story and life advice for me. I’m not sure if he had already given all of this advice to the others and I was just a new kid, but he had information just for me. The most memorable was his mandate on sex. He said “Do you want to know the secret of keeping a woman happy in the bedroom?”

“I’m listening.”

“You take this to heart and you will be the best lover ANY woman has ever had.
When it comes to Sex, treat a whore like a queen and treat a queen like a whore.”

Who says you can’t get a life lesson from a one legged, racist, scarred and battered, bad-ass bounty hunter?

Just the Tip

I was once one of you people. You are the non-tippers, the ones that know not the math, etiquette, or rules when tipping. A friend of mine schooled me a few years ago after watching me embarrass myself and insult waiter after waiter. He reminisced about the many benefits of waiting on the public at a popular steak house while going to school. I don’t know if the sarcasm bled through in that list line, but besides “Cop a Feel Friday” there is nothing redeeming about slinging steaks and “poppin” taters. Add the fact that the restaurant can pay you less than the pittance that is minimum wage and you are basically a wrist waiting to be opened.

Basic tipping: I thought the rule was 10% minimum and 15% if you were pleased. Please, it’s 2008. 15% minimum, 20%+ if you were pleased..and if she is attractive and attentive and she’s wearing.…I digress…open wallet, invert, shake, and then get the hell out. She has another group waiting on that table you have been hogging for the last hour while chit-chatting and getting your fifth refill, you coffee lush.

Advanced tipping: Now is where it gets tricky. Suppose you brought in that 90% off coupon you tore out of the Super Saver last Sunday. You burp up a little ranch dressing as the waitress smiles and drops off the bill for that single meal you shared with your wife and three kids. Sweet, they had free bread to start and the little ones fill up quickly. You hand her a wadded-up coupon and ask if you can use it for the meal. She takes it and walks away burning your face into memory. You’re getting a little something extra in your loaded baker next time. So, what do you do? The total, after discount is $3.59..cause you had water. I’ll tell you. You pay the tip on the cost of the meal PRIOR to the discount!

Group tipping: If you have the unmitigated gall to ask her to split the bill after she has already rung up the order, every one of you bastards better round up your tips individually. That means no change, if 20% of your portion is $1.47..you’re dropping a two-bill…each!

I eat out every day for lunch and continually watch my fellow engineers, managers, and even millionaires shaft the help. I end up doubling my tip to compensate and it needs to stop. It seems that income is inversely proportional to tipping, in my experience. If you can get through senior level physics, you can do a little math. If you can’t, that cell phone strapped to your utility belt probably has a tip calculator too. If you didn’t know before, you know now. So drop another buck you cheap bastard….Karma alone is worth that.