The Tattooed FloorDick

Field Ops
Originally uploaded by deglinkta.

Something happened at the Field Ops booth the other day that reminded me of another great use for the Scam Bible.

One of those tattooed-from-head-to-toe types passed by the table, exhibiting the usual mating-like behavior that occurs when someone is trying to get up the gumption to step up and let us know they're pissed about our silly little book. This always unfolds in just about the same way-

First there's an initial jolt of recognition followed by a brief but concerted stare as their brain retrieves the unpleasant memory or tries to make sense of the cover's subtly satanic elements. Next, afraid of being noticed, they quickly avert their eyes and shuffle on down a couple of booths, stopping to fidget with some chinese trinket or whatnot, all the while nervously glancing back, and attempting to regain their composure. Finally, they make a wide circle, peeping not so subtly over rows and rows of knock-off purses and African handicrafts, just like they were a kid again, and eventually, if they muster the courage, wind up back at the table, where I greet them knowingly, but real friendly-like:

"How goes it, sir? Don't be shy. It's one of the only hilarious criminal repertoires in existence. I'll bet Kenneth Lay got his start as a scamming waiter, blah, blah, blah..." (or something like that)

This guy just nodded his head, and forced a smile, or at least I think he smiled, because he was so covered with tattoos that what seemed like his mouth might well have been an oriental carp or part of his indigenous New Zealand war pattern. I mean this cat was covered. Ouch!

I'll admit, at first I fell victim to the old stereotype that all tattooed guys are sailors or ex-cons- hip, in short, so being that I love the sea and have always been a little morally challenged, I figured we'd have something to talk about.

So much for that. This guy couldn't have been more square.

"I own a bar." He said, staring at me intensely, as if he expected a dramatic reaction.

"Sorry to hear that, Queequeg" I shrugged. "How much you want for it?"

Then he made a disturbing confession:

"I caught one of my employees reading this the other day, so I grabbed it from him and slapped him upside the head with it."

What the f#@ck?!! ... What a dick! ... But that wasn't all:

"Actually, it was my dishwasher."

Wow. A poor, overworked, underpaid dishwasher, taking a break on his pickle bucket and trying to get a laugh from his brand new book. Say no more. Ever wonder how certain restaurant managers earned the term "FloorDick"? Which brings me to that other great use for your Scam Bible. If you're minding your own business and some a-hole walks up and slaps you with your own copy- snatch it back, roll it up tightly, and jam it in his f#@king eye. Then proceed to beat the tarshit out of him to your heart's content. Trust me, nobody cries for jerks like that, so do us all a favor and give him a proper ass-whoopin'.