i knew a hans once

I used to work at a group home for the mentally ill. I was helping a very sweet client in her late 50’s or early 60’s shop. From the way she dressed and carried herself, any observer could tell she was a little “off”. We were standing in line and I was a little ahead of her. She (let’s just call her “Lisa” struck up a conversation with a much younger man behind her. It went approximately like this:

Lisa: Hi! What’s your name?

Man: Hans.

Lisa: I knew a “Hans” once, in the foothills of an Alpine village in Austria. –I haven’t been with a man in 13 years!

Hans (taken aback, but seizing the opportunity): So… is anyone taking care of you now? Is there anyone who would mind if you came home with me?

Lisa: Oh, no! But you see that tall girl in front of us? (I turn around and treat Hans to a knowing, sinister smile). She’d get REALLY mad if I went home with you.

I look him up and down, sneer slightly, and turn away. Hans turns bright red and stares at his shoes, embarrassed to have just been caught trying to pick up and older mentally ill lady.

I loved that job!

Pamela – CA

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