We've all had those nights. That night when you're at work, a tragic calzone explosion has crushed troop morale and you just swear that if you have to stock one more bottle of milk you are going to smash your skull in a freezer door.
I was having one such night and was dangerously close to passing out on the quesadilla grill when suddenly I heard a shout: Fear not, Carson's, I am here!""
The man marched up to the counter, singing what I can only imagine was his own personal theme song. He looked like a young Gilbert Gottfried, and had the personality to match. He did a little jig while ordering some breadsticks under the name Galarius.
Odd, I thought, but it was almost 1 a.m., so maybe this giant leprechaun was just a hallucination. I made his breadsticks and they were dropped off at his table.
Finally it was time to close. I began to put everything away, until I heard ""HOLD IT!"" I put my hands up afraid someone was about to rob me for the $11.32 I have to my name, but I turned to see it was only Galarius.
""I demand parmesan for these breadsticks,"" he said, and sat down.
""The breadsticks have parmesan on them,"" I told him. Customer service isn't my specialty at closing time.
""But it is not the parmesan I desire. I desire fresh parmesan,"" and he refused to leave the store until I got him a fresh container of parmesan from the cooler in back. He did another jig as he poured it on his breadsticks, then disappeared into the night.
This was not my last encounter with Galarius. I was sitting with friends eating the next night when I saw him march in. I tried hiding behind a vase of flowers, faking a seizure or talking about ""woman problems"" toward him off, but it was no good. He came and sat down at our table.
Never have I had such a conversation. In my brief dinner date with him - he was going by Horace this evening - o - oI learned more about him than any one person should ever need to know.
It started simply enough. He had gotten a ""C"" on his physics test and this was ""unacceptable"" so he ran stairs at Van Hise. Every floor. Seven times. And he was just getting started.
Horace was a man of wisdom. He may have been struggling with chemistry and physics that day, but math was his true love. He does math proofs like we do sudoku.
Oh, but it didn't stop there. Horace went on to explain the intricate lineage of his family tree and how he is related to Genghis Kahn. On both sides.
""Does that make me cool or inbred?"" he asked.
I was the only one able to answer, as my friends were on the verge of tears now. ""A little of both, I would think.""
""Sweet, I'm a badass inbred!""
We couldn't take it. All three of us burst out laughing. But Horace was not fazed. His pizza arrived, and in an Oscar-worthy performance, he cried, ""I'm Horace, I'm old and cranky. Give me my pizza"" and swatted at the worker with an imaginary cane.
I have had continuous run-ins with this mystery man. There was the day Galarius claimed to be ""Claudius"", flying around Frank's parking lot making airplane noises.
Or the day he responded only to the name ""Germaine"" and explained his politically incorrect plan to end the war in Iraq and the illegal immigration problem at the same time.
Then there was the time he carved his likeness in a giant wheel of cheese using only a toothpick and some safety scissors. Okay, so I made that last part up, but it is definitely within the realm of possibility at this point. Galarius is a man of many skills.
So on those late nights when my head is inching ever closer to the grill and third-degree burns, I wait. If I'm lucky, I will hear that door slam at five-to-one, and Carson's shall not fear, because Galarius is here.
If you've ever dealt with a quirky customer and would like to compare, e-mail Megan at mcorbett2@wisc.edu.
