Everyone knows that the squeaky wheel gets the grease and a pirate that doesn’t yell “Avast!” every now and then, or at least swing his cutlass around, is likely going to be ignored.
It was a busy day at the tire garage to begin with. Pete called in sick again, one of the machines broke and the customers just kept coming. Around 10, the guy walked in, dressed like an extra from Pirates of the Carribbean 6: Jack Sparrow Takes Manhattan.
“I need new tires for my ship,” he said.
I frowned. “Ships don’t have tires.”
“Well, okay then.” I pulled out a form. “What’s the make, model and year?”
“Who made it,” I said slowly.
He wrinkled his brows, thinking. “Spain?”
“Okay . . . Model and year.”
“A brigantine, around 1802.”
“Gotcha. Your name?”
“Okay, just have a seat, Mr. Greenbeard. We’ll get right on that.” Just then I got a call and I put the form on the desk.
I did look once but the manufacturer laughed at me when I asked for a lookup on tires for an 1802 Spanish brigantine. After that, I was too busy to worry about it and Mr. Greenbeard just sat there, waiting patiently. It was easy enough to ignore him. Soon he just seemed to fade into the décor.
A couple months later, the janitor found me. “You remember that pirate?”
“The one who wanted the tires for his ship.”
“Oh crap! I forgot about him. Where is he?”
“Maybe you should come into the waiting room.”