As the Brits would say, "You're a right cunt."

Of late I have been puzzled by the conduct of a particular rental customer. He has been comporting himself like a prize ass.

When he comes in the door, he is face is never set in anything more benign than a scowl. One could extend the benefit of the doubt that said expression was just a default "travel face." For those unfamiliar with the term, some people will unconsciously assume a grim or slightly cranky mien when walking the city streets, riding the bus, riding the train, etcetera. This allows them to enjoy a certain freedom from panhandlers, street corner preachers, and those souls determined to draw everyone they meet into a recital of their myriad tribulations and philosophies.

However, Mr. Sunshine also fails to respond to pleasant greetings both vocal and gestured. Given that he is a semi-regular customer of the store, one would think that even a noncommittal nod in response would not be too much to provide. He stalks past the counter as if it didn't exist while he examines the shelves.

Once he has selected his movies, he oft will simply deposit them on the counter and wander off without a word. It was a habit that aggravated me no end before I was consistently able to attach a name to his saturnine visage. Even at this point where his identity is indelibly scribed in my working memory, this practice rarely fails to ignite a sickly tongue of hate in my heart.

He cannot be bothered to treat those behind the counter with consideration. By Jove, I should be delighted to be his lick-spittle, dutifully packaging up his sacred selections for his convenient viewing pleasure. How dare I jostle his elbow by growing impatient waiting for the next twenty minutes for him to sign the bloody rental slip and pay? When I turn my attention to other matters since he's taking his own sweet time in closing the transaction, he rolls his eyes and looks put out that I am not immediately able to take his money now he's eventually remembered he was going to rent some movies.

At times, he will pick out a DVD that is not available for rent. At others, he may attempt to exceed the maximum number of videos that can be checked out at one time or even bring up one he has previously viewed. The last case being entirely one of courtesy in case he forgot he'd seen it. Regardless, he huff and sputter. I would even go so far as to say I believe he has narrowly bitten back explosive profanity or even violent action. Never mind that I am being so polite it makes my teeth hurt, he still has the gall to handle his inconvenience in such a churlish fashion.

I don't suffer prima donna behavior in any aspect of my life. To utilize an over-used turn of phrase; it's a hot button. Every visit this cock-socket pays to the store during my shift sets my teeth on edge and I must restrain my surging desire to descend upon him and all he possesses with edged steel and fire. It isn't as if he is not already treading on thin ice irrespective of his egregious social decorum. One too many rentals have come back to us damaged after being in his care. One more strike and he's blocked.

I cannot help but wonder why he is such a loyal customer. Every indication he's given to anyone working here is of annoyed contempt. If we aggravate him so deeply, why not find another place to shop that is more soothing to his temper? Why should he choose to assiduously cultivate bone-deep antagonism with the staff when it benefits neither side of the equation? I have long since concluded he rents porn because no woman this side of the grave is willing to put up with his curmudgeonly demeanor for love or money. Perhaps he continues to rent from us because he has alienated everyone else who might have rented to him.

Sweet blood of Bathory, I hunger for that final transgression that lets me bar "his huffiness" from further lingering transactions.