Tristan was a small elderly man with a row of gappy teeth and a wide grin. He spoke in a gruff voice and wobbled when he walked. This was not owing to old age. Tristan had a drink problem and therefore always entered the shop in a drunken state.
Unlike the other inebriated men who visited us regularly, Tristan actually bought items. Fish badges. Unfortunately for him, once he got home, he either lost them or they were stolen.
Thus, each time Tristan came in, he wanted to buy another badge. This in itself, was not a problem. What made things a little more awkward was that he would not allow us to pick one out and give it to him. Asking him if he required gold or silver would not suffice. Even though they all looked the same, he insisted that we hand him the box so that he could rummage through them himself.
Resembling Albert Steptoe was one thing, but unfortunately, he looked even more like him by his hands, because they were extremely dirty and covered by grimy, fingerless gloves. In the interest of public hygiene, we did not want the badges to become contaminated, but at the same time, we did not want to appear rude or respecter of persons.
When Tristan had finally chosen a badge, he would ask for one of us to pin it onto his clothing. At this point, I would think of Jesus touching lepers and feeding the poor and tell myself that I am making an old man very happy by obliging with his request. I would try to imagine Jesus smiling sweetly at me with a jewel in his hand that he was preparing to put into my crown should I attend to this request with a right attitude. But truth be told, I hated it. I made ‘every excuse under the sun’ in order to try and get out of having to go close to him, and then touch his clothes.
But alas, we had no choice. If we did not pin his badges on, he would become aggressive.
One day, after I secured two badges onto his malodorous coat, he refused to leave the shop. He was mumbling incoherently and getting cross because I couldn’t understand him. Casper came downstairs to try to reason with him and Tristan flew into a rage.
He clenched his hands into two little fists and placed them in front his face, threatening Casper to a fight.
As Casper moved forward, he spoke gently to him, explaining that he had the choice of either leaving quietly or going out with the security guards.
Tristan hated the guards because they were his usual exiting companions.
Suddenly, he spat at Casper.
With dribble trailing from his bristly chin and dropping to the floor, he squared up to him again with tightly clenched fists.
I promptly phoned for assistance and grabbed some tissues so that Casper could clean himself up.
Once again, the guards came to our aid and dragged a screaming Tristan out into the street. The rough handling caused the fastener of one of the badges to come lose and it bounced onto the floor.
It would only be a matter of time before the front part would come loose also, and my heart sank. This meant that dear little Tristan would be back again very soon.
