He was about, mm, 40. How does one get to 40 years of age and not know how to handle various forms of American currency. Even if I'd given him francs, pesos, or rupees, the range of things with which to do with them is fairly limited and more than a little obvious. Secondly, how does one get to 40 years of age and still manage to GIVE A SHIT about such matters, so much so that he would demand I return his Marvin Gaye CD. Thirdly, I HOPE HE FUCKING DIED IN THE PARKING LOT. I hope Marvin Gaye's father came and shot him. Fuck.
I was debating whether to even write this down, because I'm pretty sure I don't want to remember it. Even in all my years of dealing with geezers over at the drugstore, I have never come across someone quite this outrageously awesomely illogically bastardic.