Jerry’s the shoeshine guy who comes to my office every Friday to, well, obviously, shine shoes. He also comes to my office every Friday to shock the hell out of me. Jerry’s a class-A weirdo. Not like normal people who have weirdo tendencies, I’m talking a bona fide kook. People like this are fascinating to me, so of course I talk to Jerry and because I’m normal and likely fascinate Jerry, he talks to me. Although, “talk” is overstating things a bit. We don’t converse. I ask him some pretty benign questions like “how are you?” and in response, a litany of tales so peculiar you’d think there was life on Mars. End of chat. Once those are over, or sometimes instead of those, I just get some shocking, amazingly inappropriate, eye popping lines. Jerry dishes them out, I get embarrassed (open concept office + loud voice, friends ! ). End of chat. It’s all somewhat hilarious and marginally creepy. But let’s focus on the hilarity.
To set the scene, Jerry is not only a weirdo in spirit, he’s a weirdo in looks. So, every Friday when he turns the corner for his weekly visit and line delivery, I see a guy whose about 5 feet tall and maybe 95 pounds. He’s little. He has this really unfortunate likely self done mullet style hair do (n’t) and his hair is grey and white and wiry, although I do think it’s clean. His face is well – lined and also grey. He wears a leather vest and smells of cigarette smoke and shoe polish. He’s been polishing shoes so long his hands are the colour of charcoal. He could be 40 or 80, it’s just really hard to say. That’s Jerry!
As he turns the corner, and makes sure I’m around, I hear one of two stalwart greetings:
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Or “Hey there bathing beauty” (safer not to ask about this one, I think).
Rendered by a voice that is something else all together – it’s as high pitched as a life long smoker’s voice can be and he combines this really interesting staccato delivery with a long draw on vowels. The combined effect of the visual and audio are weird. All very weird. He’s like an animated character in a macabre cartoon (not quite sure they actually make any of those).
About a month ago I asked him how he was and he went into a replay of his weekend where the highlight was being knocked in the head by a 2 by 4 at his buddy’s house because his buddy doesn’t have a doorbell and was using a 2 by 4 instead. Exactly. I have no idea either.
The response to what he’s doing for the holidays? Equally peculiar: “Not too much. Staying home, alone, trying to figure out how to stick my head in the toaster oven.” I’m sure that was a scene in A Christmas Story, wasn’t it?
Many more of those, but the best of Jerry really comes out in those lines of his.
Fellas, take heed – don’t try these at home (unless you’re staring at lotsa wine and a sure thing):
“That’s a real pretty colour. You look like a grape. Wish I could squeeze you and make you wine. Hope you know what I meant there. Hehehe.”
“Really like your top. Bet it looks good on the floor too.”
“Ya like being tickled? Sure do wish I could find out.” (okay, I admit, this one, taken out of Jerry-context I LOVE. And now, he's now ruined it forever.)
And, my all time favourite, said along Adelaide Street , because you know your life is just your life when you run into Jerry on the streets of Toronto
“Hey there, bathing beauty, wanna lick my cone?” He was eating an ice cream cone at the time, but still. Still.
I’m not sure where he comes up with these gems, but after 8 years (and two office moves, the guy is dedicated) there’s surely enough material for a book. A bad one, that would make you take an SOS shower and burn all your clothes, but a book nonetheless. I really should have documented our weekly meets better but I’m just so busy trying to forget them, it’s hard. So, there’s Jerry. He’s nuts and perplexing and inappropriate – oh, yes. But he’s got something else you sort of have to admire: for all his shockingly inappropriate weirdness, Jerry’s got game.
Go Jerry.
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