The Bad Guy

FIGHT!

This story begins at the front desk.

guy: You don’t have to call up. She knows I’m coming.

me: Please be patient, this won’t take long. [I called up on the intercom to the unit he wanted to visit]

guy: I LIVE here now! Let me in!

me: Sir, I have never seen you here before. If you were a resident I would have gotten a note about it. Please be patient…[the resident answered the intercom] Your friend is here…OK, I’ll send him up…[to the visitor] ID please?

guy: Why?

me: You want in, you have to show me some ID. House rules.

guy: Fine! [guy slammed his ID on the desk, I buzzed him in]

I watched the man on the security cameras walk up a few flights of stairs, stagger and then sit down. I kept watching him because…Well…When you see someone who reminds you of a main character from The Hills Have Eyes, you get a little suspicious. Especially if the person is so aggro…And obviously higher than the International Space Station.

I was about to call the unit the man was supposed to visit (just in case he was lost, his host could find him and lead him the rest of the way) when I saw something very disturbing. The visitor had engaged in a heated argument with a resident which in an instant came to blows. The resident, who was much larger and a more sober man, was beating the guest down. There was blood everywhere…It was like a Sam Peckinpah movie at normal speed. The visitor threw the first punch, and the resident blocked and popped the man right in the eye. *BAM!*

So I called the police and told them that I had exclusive closed-circuit rights to the fight of the century:

me: [on the phone with the 911 operator]…Yes, you have the address correct. Big fight on the…OH SHIT!!! He just knocked him flat out…Sorry about that. Yes, we need you to come down here right away to get this visitor out of here…The visitor started the fight, but if you don’t get here soon…Wow, he’s getting back up! No! Stay DOWN! STAY DOWN!…Oh, SNAP!!! I think his face just exploded!!! If you don’t get here soon, this guy is going to die…Thank you. See you soon!

Then the phone rang. It was the resident who was awaiting her guest.

resident: Where is my visitor?

me: I was just about to call you about that…

resident: Did he not have his ID?

me: …He’s in a fight with the guy from #433.

resident: What?

me: I’d tell you to go get your friend but I think it’d be best if the cops deal with this.

resident: I don’t want any cops in my place!!!

me: Listen, I’ll call you back, the police are here.

resident: DON’T SEND ANY COPS UP TO M…

me: Good evening, officers!

cop 1: Where’s the fight?

me: On the fourth floor…Wait, he’s on his way down here right now.

cop 2: Is he armed?

me: I do not think so.

cop 1: [on his way upstairs] What does he look like?

me: He’s the guy with the face covered in blood.

cop 1: O…Kay!

So the policemen headed upstairs, cuffed the visitor and walked him outside. His face was, indeed, covered in blood. Said blood was still dripping off his chin and cheeks, soaking his shirt and leaving a little trail on the floor. On the way out he cleared the whole tawdry incident up for the police and myself.

guy: I was just trying to buy some crack! I was looking for crack and that guy punches me! Why don’t you arrest him?!?!


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March 16, 2007 - Posted by | bad jobs, crack, drugs are bad, san francisco, Work

1 Comment »

  1. this is your best post ever!

    (sorry you had to live through it, though!)

    Comment by geltsgirl | March 23, 2007 | Reply


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