I am not sweating you.

I do not know how I forgot to write about this gentleman sooner, this is someone who I have been dealing with for years at Fulta, years. I simply call him The Millionaire. I have worked off and on at Fulta for a little over 3 years, I think, and this guy has been coming into Fulta that whole time. The thing is, I have never seen him buy anything. Not once. Nothing. What he does is roll up in his white Hummer, parks it and most of the time leaves the car running, with his stereo blasting so it shakes our windows (he's a really classy, environmentally conscious guy), walks right into fragrance and then dowses himself in one of the following colognes: Issey Miachi, Armani Code, or Ralph Lauren Blue. The only way I can think to tell you just how much cologne he puts on his body is to say that the front of the store will then smell like that cologne for up 20min after he leaves. I am in no way kidding about that, my nose would never lie to you about the pain that this man has inflicted on it. So after a nice little French whore-style bath, the guy leaves, smiles and waves to whoever is at the register.

Now at first, I used to talk to the guy. When he would come in I would walk over to fragrance and ask him how he was ect, thinking he was going to buy something. And I will say he was a nice guy, he would say to me "I buy stuff here all the time, I just need to come in here and freshen up my sent" No problem, because really I can't say shit. He technically isn't doing anything wrong... he's just a dick about it.

So when I came back to Fulta a few months ago, he of course was in and out as usual. One day it was just enough for me. The in and out. The "I spend thousands of dollars in here" (no you fucking don't). And the spraying. The constant spraying. So I talk to my manager on duty, I tell her I am going to hide his fragrance of choice behind the counter, tell him it broke and then show him one of our gift sets of said fragrance that he can purchase. Brilliant idea RHE. Brilliant idea. I mean after all, he told me a few weeks ago he said he was just waiting for the gift set, so now he's in luck! It's here! And he can finally, after all these years be a paying customer.

About 20min after I hide the tester, he strolls in. (see I can just feel in my bones when he is about to come in) I say "Your tester broke last night! But we have the gift set." "Don't be sweating me. Don't sweat me" (more than anything I wish I had a picture of my face at this exact moment, I am sure that it was a cross between surprise, shock, and confusion, because I was not trying to sweat him, because I don't even understand what that means.) He walks over to his stand-by cologne, and begins spraying and saying "What, I bet this one will be broken tomorrow too, and if it is I'll just find a new one" Asshole. "It broke last night and if you don't believe me the manager who was here when it happened is here, and she can tell you." "Uh huh, sure, this one will be broken tomorrow. Stop sweating me." Dick. "I don't know if that one will be broken, it might be" "Why are you getting in my face?!" "I'm not in your face." I can't be in his face, I can't even get near his face because of the fog of fragrance that engulfs him. This is the first time ever, that in 3+ years I have even thought about saying anything to him, because he is a customer. Well today's the day I realized that he's not a customer because he doesn't buy shit here.

And here is why this pecker-head earned his name The Millionaire: "I don't need you sweating me, I spend thousands of dollars in here. I'm a millionaire. I'm a millionaire. I made $750,000 dollars last year, I'm a millionaire." I say nothing, because what is there to say, I am in the presence of a millionaire. Little old me is in the same vicinity as a millionaire, I mean I never in all my life thought that this would happen to me. I am the luckiest girl in the world to be able to even talk to him.

Here's the thing about The Millionaire, first of all last time I checked $750,000 is not a million dollars. I have only seen him in 4 outfits in the 3 years I have been dealing with him. He has a white Hummer, which he parks wherever he sees fit in our parking lot, i.e. not in real spaces. He has never, not once purchased anything ever. (I know I said that before but I think repeating that fact its essential)

After this I decide I am never talking to him again. I'm done. Who am I to even think of correcting a millionaire. Mother's day rolls around, and he comes into Fulta with his son, Lil Millionaire as I like to call him. The Millionaire sprays himself, obviously and then he sprays his son, who is about 6. He is covering this 6 year old in cologne. To me, this is some sort of child abuse, and it's also teaching poor manners, and really, poor hygiene as well. The Millionaire sees me, I say nothing. In fact I leave fragrance! I let him have free reign! He went up to my manager and said "I don't want to name names but there are certain people in this store who are very rude to me and constantly bothering me" My name is Rebecca, nice to meet you after all these years. My manager knows his history, everyone who works there knows about this D-bag, so my manager just kind of smiles and nods. So I walk back into my territory, because The and Lil Mill are gone, and there is a woman who needs my help. She is in the woman's section trying out Chanel Chance, "Are you finding everything okay?" "Yes, I just can't decide, I do really like this one though." "Yeah that's a great fragrance" Just then The Millionaire is back and he walks over to the woman, who you guessed it, it's is his wife, and tells her it's time to go. The whole family is in on this racket!

Now, if you or I were to constantly go into an ice cream store and just ask for samples of flavors, and then not get anything, ever, that would be wrong right? This is like the exact same thing, and it pisses me off. I really hate this guy. I hate his Hummer. I hate his sideways hat that he wears. I hate the attitude he has. I hate his money. I hate the colognes he sprays. But really who am I to judge. He's a millionaire. He told me himself. He's a millionaire, and I'm not. Apparently, I can't touch that.

I should note, that The millionaire hasn't really been into Fulta lately, however I now see him, and his Hummer all over my neighborhood. He better lookout, in Boystown everyone wants a hummer.