Sir... Really?

Technically, it’s still summer and in this heat, I intend to wear white cotton shirts even after Labor Day.                                               

The Summer Doldrums have returned to Marco Island after many of us business owners hoped, thought and prayed it was next to extinct. Now it’s back to the way it used to be before the Covid Craze. 

Returning from the airport last week, I crossed over the bridge around 9:45 PM, and I was the only vehicle on the road. I thought to myself, “Did everyone leave the island and forget to shut off the streetlights?” It was surreal, an island ghost town. I was fortunate to have several appointments the next day at the shop; apparently there are some signs of life during the summer day light hours. 

This is my 29th summer on Marco Island. It’s a fact, sometimes you just have to deal with the hot summer day crawlers. “Who are they and where do they come from?” you ask. It’s hard for me to tell. I’m guessing they are from a secret commune retreat, living off the grid on an obscure island in the 10,000 Island chain. Then, suddenly, they invade the island in the dark of night using rubber rafts and make futile attempts to blend in with the local population during the daylight hours.

In the past I have mentioned that my staff and I deal with some very peculiar individuals (or couples) from time to time, but summer is “High Season” for these human oddities.

A seemingly nice couple comes in, asking if I am able to replace a battery on a ladies Mariner’s Tag Heuer watch. The woman insisted that I do it “right away.” My store policy is later in the day or next day service, but hey it’s summer and at the moment I’m in an unusually good mood, so I said “Okay, it will be a few minutes.” The response, “Well, we don’t have a few minutes!” (My good mood is now gone!) “Excuse me? Do you want the battery changed or not?” I don’t have a magic battery wand I wave over your watch and it automatically charges, it takes five to ten minutes to physically do the work to change it. She asked for it back, saying “That’s entirely too long!”

Just great, a summer day walker, I gladly handed it back, and away they went (or so I thought). They stood outside, having a heated discussion with each other in front of the shop. Oh, crikey- they’re coming back in! “We decided we will let you change our battery if you can hurry!” At this point, I don’t even want to do it. I can’t for the life of me understand their malfunctioning brains. Are they afraid to leave her precious Tag out of their sight for too long? What am I going to do? Steal the numerals or second hand? I will regret this, a little voice in my head is saying. Luckily all went well without complications, and I completed the task in a record six-minute time (Was that fast enough?). I handed her the watch back with the time and date set and asked how they were going to pay. Meanwhile she is examining the watch like a newborn child and suddenly she blurts out, “This is not the same back that was on the watch when I gave it to you! Where’s my original back?” I’m flabbergasted. “What are you talking about? I simply removed the case back with a watch wrench, placed it in front of me then removed the dead battery, installed a fresh one and replaced the back, tightened it, set the time and date… that’s it!” There’s no shady deception going on here!  

Folks, there are no other watches or strange watch backs on my workbench. For Pete’s sake it says ladies Mariner Tag right on it! This woman starts to lose it, getting all hot and flustered by the second and nothing I’m saying will convince her that it’s the exact watch back cover that was on the watch when she came in. The husband was no help; he stood there like a dolt.  

I’m sorry, I had enough of this nonsense, it was time for her to pay me and leave. He reluctantly paid me and commenced to drag her out of the shop while crying and ranting for her original watch back cover. What the heck just happened? 

Next, I get a person requesting an appraisal on a diamond ring he recently bought up north. Normally, an appointment is necessary for this service (it’s summertime and it’s slow so… ). I ask him if he has the ring, and he says his fiancé is wearing it and she’s up north. I tell him I can’t do an appraisal on a ring that’s not in front of me. He said he can describe it. I explain it doesn’t work that way, I must physically see the item in question, examine it, measure this and that, check out the color and clarity… you know, do my thing, and come up with a retail value.      “So, you won’t do it?” Again, I tell him, “Not without me seeing the ring!” He then calls me a moron and leaves in a huff. 

I’m getting too old for the drama.

Some beach somewhere!