Jack Ungulate is a strange bird.
When he drinks beer, he licks his index and middle finger, swipes the bottle opening, and then pauses, with the bottle raised to his mouth, before turning it upside down.
Each time, every time.
He also has a routine with his steel-toe boots. The left one must go on first, then the right. But he takes them off in reverse.
And then there’s his ritual when buying large ticket items like a car: he sends his wife to the lot while he sits in the garage, waiting for her to call.
When people talk to him about saving for his children’s college fund, he quickly cuts them off to inform them there is no fund because he’d prefer to cultivate a sense of ownership by encouraging them to pay their own way through school.
He enjoys the scowls that appear on their faces.
As he methodically replaces a defective steam gauge on a heating system, he thinks about his father and why they never talk. Then he contemplates how he’s going to break it to his own son that he won’t be able to make it to his kayak competition that evening because he has to cover a co-worker’s night shift.
The overtime, however, will go towards their trip to Cancun in April. That should ease the sting.
Clearly, Jack is not so much strange as he is just complex. Like most humans. And all of your customers.