Sometimes you just have to smile and move on.

There are characters in the world and when the front door is open to the public, people of all sorts may find their way inside. I’m always pleased to greet arrivals, including an early Wednesday visitor.

He cruised in wearing baggy, knee-length shorts, a Hawaiian-y shirt, and sporting a scruffed Mohawk. After ambling partway down an aisle – long enough for me to get to the front of the store, he said some howdy-do as a greeting. And then scratched himself. It was no discreet thing.

It was a full-fledged right arm wraparound to the posterior, accommodating a digging sort of itch.

That completed, he wondered if, maybe, I was hiring.

After waiting an appropriate length of time to allow for the supposed consideration of his question, I had to respond that – regrettably – I was not.

He was kind enough to compliment the store’s appearance before moving on. I can appreciate his situation and admire his pursuit of a job.

But I was thankful he didn’t offer to shake hands.