Steven Tyler
I had an awkward experience with Steven Tyler, Aerosmith's frontman, at work last Saturday.
He had been a customer at VCA before, at a time when I hadn't entered the picture yet. People would mention his appearance back then on occasion, to which I would raise my eyebrows but not really give much of a damn. Turns out one of his dogs had to have a mass removed and was being hospitalized over the weekend, so people were chatting about how he was going to be coming in for a visit later in the evening. I completely forgot about all of this until the door opened at around 6pm and an entourage of curiously dressed people walked in. Everyone was wearing long black coats, one guy had a multi-colored beard, the girls had striped stockings and expensive looking handbags, and Steven Tyler himself had a big, purple scarf wrapped around his neck and lightly tinted sunglasses.
(You'd think someone as "interesting" as him would choose unique names for his pets, but the dog's name was Bailey, which is in the running for most common dog name.)
They were all polite, nice people (or seemed so, at least) but I really got an odd impression of Steven. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is that he seems like a man who needs someone else to take care of him all the time or else he'll fall into a hole somewhere. He observed the cat and dog treats with a childlike fascination and seemed riveted by my answers to his questions. "Those treats are hypoallergenic." ::his eyes go wide:: "Oh...?" "Yes, that means it's safe for pets with allergies." "Ooooooh, oh I see!!"
Now the awkward moment occurred after they had finished visiting. He wanted to buy some treats, and I had been hoping that one of my coworkers would be the one to check him out, because I knew I was going to have to ask for his phone number to bring up his account in our computer system, and I anticipated that this would cause some weirdness. His real last name is not Tyler; it's Tallarico, but I didn't know this at the time. So I ask him as innocently as possible what phone number is account would be under. He looks kind of dazed for a second, then spends some time scrolling through his blackberry / iphone, and asks, "what's this for again?" "Just so I can bring up your account in the system." "My....account?" "Yes, so I can put the treats in under your name....you know what I mean?" ::smile smile:: He gives me some completely random number of someone who is probably his manager or assistant, and of course it didn't bring up his account. So I say as much, and then he starts talking about treats again because the girl who I assume was his girlfriend / wife / whatever asked him if Pudgey (or some goofy name) needed any of these golden bags of cat treats that we sell. He says, "I don't know, what are they?" even though he was already in the process of buying the EXACT SAME treats. Then she comes over and says, "Caitlin, I don't think we want these other people in the lobby to know his phone number." (there were 2 other clients in the lobby who really had not acknowledged them.) "Caitlin, we don't want them to know his number, so can you put it under something else? We'll take care of it." She kept repeating my name, which made me feel a wee bit uncomfortable. But I couldn't just throw these treats under some random person. I needed to put them under Steven Tyler's account. So I'm silently freaking out and don't want to ask how to spell his last name because I feel like the situation has dragged on long enough. Thankfully, my coworker, Denise, comes over and types in his real last name, and we find his account. He hands me this black American Express, one of those cards that are offered only to people who crap money when they sit on the toilet, but I handed it back to him and said I would just add the treats to his balance and he could just pay for everything when he took Bailey home. "Oh, all right. See, it's the same card," he said while giving me a strangely serious look. I have no idea why he said that.
They left, but moments later, he and his special lady came BURSTING back in through the door, with such urgency that I hopped out of my seat thinking they had some kind of emergency. But he really just wanted to weigh the dog, because he brought him over to the scale, said something else about treats, and left. Eh?
I almost thought that the two clients in the lobby didn't recognize him, but when two other clients came out of one of the rooms, the woman said to them, "you missed Steven Tyler." One girl responded, "why do I always miss everything?!!" while the other talked about how she used to work at an Outback that he patronized a few times.
Right as Steven and his gang walked into the back to visit their dog, one of our doctors had appeared next to me and had scoffed, "what, is it freak night or something?" I told him that that was Steven Tyler, and he was like, "are you joking?" I told him to go back there and see for himself. He did, and after a little while, he came back up front and said, "that was fucking awesome, thank you."
To be honest, if no one had told me that he was coming in, I'm not sure if I would have recognized him. He does have a rather distinctive face ("like a catcher's mitt," says my dad; "like an old woman," says my brother) but even so, I think the only exposure I've ever had to Aerosmith was through random blips on MTV. Sorry, Steven.
He had been a customer at VCA before, at a time when I hadn't entered the picture yet. People would mention his appearance back then on occasion, to which I would raise my eyebrows but not really give much of a damn. Turns out one of his dogs had to have a mass removed and was being hospitalized over the weekend, so people were chatting about how he was going to be coming in for a visit later in the evening. I completely forgot about all of this until the door opened at around 6pm and an entourage of curiously dressed people walked in. Everyone was wearing long black coats, one guy had a multi-colored beard, the girls had striped stockings and expensive looking handbags, and Steven Tyler himself had a big, purple scarf wrapped around his neck and lightly tinted sunglasses.
(You'd think someone as "interesting" as him would choose unique names for his pets, but the dog's name was Bailey, which is in the running for most common dog name.)
They were all polite, nice people (or seemed so, at least) but I really got an odd impression of Steven. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is that he seems like a man who needs someone else to take care of him all the time or else he'll fall into a hole somewhere. He observed the cat and dog treats with a childlike fascination and seemed riveted by my answers to his questions. "Those treats are hypoallergenic." ::his eyes go wide:: "Oh...?" "Yes, that means it's safe for pets with allergies." "Ooooooh, oh I see!!"
Now the awkward moment occurred after they had finished visiting. He wanted to buy some treats, and I had been hoping that one of my coworkers would be the one to check him out, because I knew I was going to have to ask for his phone number to bring up his account in our computer system, and I anticipated that this would cause some weirdness. His real last name is not Tyler; it's Tallarico, but I didn't know this at the time. So I ask him as innocently as possible what phone number is account would be under. He looks kind of dazed for a second, then spends some time scrolling through his blackberry / iphone, and asks, "what's this for again?" "Just so I can bring up your account in the system." "My....account?" "Yes, so I can put the treats in under your name....you know what I mean?" ::smile smile:: He gives me some completely random number of someone who is probably his manager or assistant, and of course it didn't bring up his account. So I say as much, and then he starts talking about treats again because the girl who I assume was his girlfriend / wife / whatever asked him if Pudgey (or some goofy name) needed any of these golden bags of cat treats that we sell. He says, "I don't know, what are they?" even though he was already in the process of buying the EXACT SAME treats. Then she comes over and says, "Caitlin, I don't think we want these other people in the lobby to know his phone number." (there were 2 other clients in the lobby who really had not acknowledged them.) "Caitlin, we don't want them to know his number, so can you put it under something else? We'll take care of it." She kept repeating my name, which made me feel a wee bit uncomfortable. But I couldn't just throw these treats under some random person. I needed to put them under Steven Tyler's account. So I'm silently freaking out and don't want to ask how to spell his last name because I feel like the situation has dragged on long enough. Thankfully, my coworker, Denise, comes over and types in his real last name, and we find his account. He hands me this black American Express, one of those cards that are offered only to people who crap money when they sit on the toilet, but I handed it back to him and said I would just add the treats to his balance and he could just pay for everything when he took Bailey home. "Oh, all right. See, it's the same card," he said while giving me a strangely serious look. I have no idea why he said that.
They left, but moments later, he and his special lady came BURSTING back in through the door, with such urgency that I hopped out of my seat thinking they had some kind of emergency. But he really just wanted to weigh the dog, because he brought him over to the scale, said something else about treats, and left. Eh?
I almost thought that the two clients in the lobby didn't recognize him, but when two other clients came out of one of the rooms, the woman said to them, "you missed Steven Tyler." One girl responded, "why do I always miss everything?!!" while the other talked about how she used to work at an Outback that he patronized a few times.
Right as Steven and his gang walked into the back to visit their dog, one of our doctors had appeared next to me and had scoffed, "what, is it freak night or something?" I told him that that was Steven Tyler, and he was like, "are you joking?" I told him to go back there and see for himself. He did, and after a little while, he came back up front and said, "that was fucking awesome, thank you."
To be honest, if no one had told me that he was coming in, I'm not sure if I would have recognized him. He does have a rather distinctive face ("like a catcher's mitt," says my dad; "like an old woman," says my brother) but even so, I think the only exposure I've ever had to Aerosmith was through random blips on MTV. Sorry, Steven.