Harold

Everyday at work we get a few regular visitors from the group homes that just come in to chat. They never buy anything or look around, they come straight to the counter and stand there for anywhere from fifteen minutes to fourty-five and talk about the same things every time.

Harold is an exception only in that he comes in two to three times a shift regularly. My boss Michelle has dealt with him for ten years. Ever since the first day, he has called her Joanne. I believe she informed him once or twice that her name was Michelle. Harold just gives one of those smile-sighs and says, "Come on Joanne."

Everyday he comes in and says, "Oh no, it’s Kathleen, trouble." He then asks me if I’m staying out of trouble and I am supposed to ask him the same. He always says no and inquires about when Polly and "Joanne" and Jennifer work and when Scott or Aaron will be in. Then he asks something about why I don’t have my hair in two pony tails or why I am wearing a dress or something.

So the rountine goes, until today…

He looks suprised I am wearing shorts (capris) and tells me I look fat in them. I tell him that is not very nice and he tells me he is joking. Then he suddenly starts crying and yelling about something about someone hanging up on him or pushing him to the ground. (It is supposed that Harold has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. . . anyway he doesn’t really have control over his speech and it is VERY hard to understand him.)

I tell him that I don’t know how to help him and that I am sorry that I can’t understand him and ask if I can call someone that can help. After about twenty minutes of this emotional scene he leaves. I am emotionally drained and I don’t know what to do with myself. I call Michelle and she tells me where he lives and the number of his caseworker. I call his caseworker and left a message that someone should check on Harold to make sure he is feeling okay, and I felt better.

Harold comes back much calmer but quickly becomes much angrier and louder and forceful than he had been before. He yells and screams at me and I can’t understand him or help him. He bangs his fists on the counter and scares the hell out of me for the next ten minutes until he leaves cursing at me.

I am very nervous about him now and nervous that I am in the store by myself all of the time. I care about what happens to Harold, he’s a nice and friendly guy, but the whole thing really scared me.