My husband is great with customers. He's always saying things like "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" and "come back again soon." So when a sweet little old man walked up to my husband and asked him how old he looked, D said, "Sir, you don't look a day over 50."
To that the man bellowed, "Son, I'm 88 years old! Now shake my hand!"
D, slightly amused, offered him his hand. The old man grabbed it and squeezed the shit out of it, grinding all of D's finger bones together. D couldn't believe the audacity of this old man. It was right then and there that D started plotting his revenge...
Fast forward two years. Who does D finally see enter our store again? That same old man. Seemingly forgetful of crushing my husband's hand bones two years prior, he again walked right up to D and asked him how old he looked.
"Sir, you don't look a day over 95!" my husband replied.
"What?" the old man stammered, clearly surprised by the guess. "No, son, I'm 90. Now shake my hand!"
As soon as the old man lifted his hand, my husband grabbed it with all his might and squeezed it with every ounce of strength he possessed. The old man screamed in agony, "OWWWW! Let me go! Let me go!"
Den dropped it and stood there smirking. The old man, trying to figure out what went wrong, finally said, "You must be left-handed."
"No, sir, I'm not," Den replied, glowing with the knowledge that he had in fact just whipped a 90-year-old man.
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