A Day or Two: The Cat Owner

The area of customer service is characterized by challenges and curiosities, and this holds true in the world of Second Life. From wall-climbing alien avatars to inquirers walking out of chat range, I’ve had my share of raised eyebrows and headaches. But none were so odd, so trying common sense was that of one man. He has been dubbed… the Cat Owner.

+DV8+ Look V Our tale begins before I was a +DV8+ model, when the Steam Kittehs were being teased before the public. The neko boots were on special for L$1 in the Claret color. Many had teleported from far and wide for this limited time offer. I sat in the lounge, attempting to sort my inventory once again whilst eying the nearby lucky chairs.

He seemed like any other customer that day when he arrived- strolled in with jeans, no tee-shirt, and a feline female avatar at his side. The man’s questions started simple, asking where the boots might be and what their permissions were. One of the ladies on duty clearly replied that they were no transfer.

But he wanted them for his cat.

The shop specializes in cybergoth, cyberpunk, and nekoware, so the statement was not completely unusual. He was intent on presenting them as a gift, so the model replied that the owner would have to be contacted. And it just so happened that Vasha was whirling around in the droid nearby- with a beep and sputter, she cruised over to the scene for assistance. The man explained again that he wanted to give a gift, and after processing with blips and bloops, the Robonaught asked whom the boots should go to.

“To Miss V right here.”

The staff and regulars went silent- he wanted to give the dollarbie special to the neko woman right next to him. Fortunately, our virtual representations did not show our dropped-jaws, and he asked what the procedure was. Vasha probably thought the circuits crossed and inquired again about the recipient. Once more, he specified the woman at his side. She spoke not a word, but answered with a mewing gesture and a poof of a particles.

“Well, yes, but…” protested the droid, “she’s standing right there.”

“So?” the male snarkly replied, “A gift is a gift.”

The lead shipment must have been late that day, as the creator simply sighed and followed through with the frivolous three-way. From my spot on the tar-black cushion, I quipped, “Money is a nice gift, too. But that’s just me.”

“Ha!” he answered with a laugh, “She is my cat.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure she’s a person on the other end of the computer screen,” I retorted. “But what do I know? I’m just a psychology major.”

“Arghh! A shrink!” (Apparently, I hit a sore spot.)

“Nupe,” I finished, raising an index finger in my mind, “I’m not licensed. Carry on.”

At that point, he became silent. Possibly due to the trade being finished and no longer needing to pretend to be interested in the store; potentially because the concepts of self-capability ruffled his scrotum hair. The rest of us derailed into conversations of death, combat systems and the pricks that play them. Eventually, he and his ‘cat’ left, leaving us to our banter.

But that was not the end.

Some time later – perhaps within the 24 hours that I was hired – the man returned. I did not recognize the name at first, and the female that was with him was new and wore no neko gear or feline animations. My gold fish brain failed to recognize him, and promptly greeted him. He seemed to not recall me as the ‘psychologist’ from the couch that previous night, for he asked about the L$1 boots.

He wanted them for his cat.

Now, I am a roleplayer, with my own strange tastes. However, I keep them in designated areas, like my bedroom or specifically themed places. You wouldn’t go to Sears or JC Penny’s, spank someone with a crop and expect not to be asked to leave, and I’m not fond of that action in stores in SL. And after suffering through peers asking questions about directions that were just explain throughout public schooling, my tolerance for repetitive stupidity is very, very low. Oh, my fingers did ache to lace my keyboard with venom.

But I had just been hired, the confounded angel upon my shoulder exclaimed. Biting my tongue, I proceeded to be nice.

“Oh, the new Steam Kitteh boots were a limited offer and Vasha took them away last night, I believe,” I answered truthfully. “

“How much it cost now?” he inquired.

“The whole new line should be out, soon, though. And DV8 is celebrating it’s 6 Month anniversary, so there will probably be more goodies out soon,” was my reply. “All the boots are L$200 right now, as we’re having a 50% off sale. The Rivet Kittehs are on the West wall, and have very nice buckles.”

“Where can I find it?” he persisted. “I want to give it to my cat, L here.”

The small, yet sharp grammatical errors further ticked away at my sanity as I fought to remain polite: “If you need, there are giftcards here, too, and they work with sales.”

“She is here,” he answered back, “next to me.”

That was it. While it was too much of a hassle for him to use common sense, I, the staff, had to wait on him and his ‘cat’. At that point, if she could, my avatar’s lips would have curled back into a sinister Chesire grin.

“So,” I clicked shortly,” you either give her the money to purchase them herself or you can give the gift of a card.”

All her uttered from there was a ‘thank you’ and quickly left the store- his game of gifts by his rules had blown up in his face with basic business. We have not seen him since, but new visitors drop in every day. A few earn ‘special’ grins- the hunters complaining over not finding the treasure, the divas scoffing at our wares loudly, and those in hurry that run right through the modeling station, to name just a few. But with each new little spinner assimilated into our cybernetic family -be they boy, girl or furry – learns quick that these are just daily displeasures to be laughed over and let go. For it could be much, much stranger. The next avatar that walks in might be…

The Cat Owner.

+DV8+ Purple Day - I Miss You

Disclaimer: This is not putting down nekos, cosplayers, subs, doms, slaves, masters, pets, owners, so on and so forth. It’s looking at idiots. Idiots come in many forms and fashions, and at some point, we may have to deal with them while wearing a smile. All names except the obvious were removed or abbreviated for decency. And yes, all of this actually happened and it’s not exaggerated.

~ by Terry Toland on July 17, 2009.

3 Responses to “A Day or Two: The Cat Owner”

  1. […] Lifestyles of the Broke and Notorious […]

  2. […] after, I was hired and got to join the rotisserie team. (In between those times, of course, was the Cat Owner […]

  3. […] after, I was hired and got to join the rotisserie team. (In between those times, of course, was the Cat Owner […]

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