Tent Village

I may have touched on this before, I don't really remember, but:

I work in the ghetto.

I know, it sounds awful and I'm probably not authorized to use that word in my extremely caucasian writing. But it's true.

Behind our lot, there is what the police and locals refer to as a "Tent Village". Those of you familiar with DC have probably seen them along the roads leading into and out of the District.
They are tents, grouped together where the homeless live.

At the one behind my office, they walk out from the woods, head up the hill by my office, and make a bee line to the liquor store (which by the way, only sells wine in a box, 40's, and black and mild's).

So today, my co-worker is outside and up comes one of the fancier homeless fellas. All I can see through the window is my co-worker pointing at the guy and then the guy coming towards our office door. He's dressed in a navy blue polo with white stripes, khaki cargo pants, a hat and uses a cane. Overall, he looks well put together and I have a hard time believeing he is homeless.

Until he walks in:

Him: "Hello young ladies" (there are three women and three men in my office during this time)
Me: "Hi Sir. How can we help you?"
Him: "I'm a businessman, I know computers and shit"
Me: "Oook....."
Him: "I wanna buy a van for my Step daddy"
Me: "Ok, well I'm not a salesperson, please talk to--------" (I am a salesperson, but today I decided to pass this particular nut on to someone else"
He then proceeds to pull up his sleeve and show us a tattoo of what looks like a dishwasher. We never got a clear answer about what it was or why he was showing us.
Him: "I used to sell lease cars for Chevy Honda Buick back in 1973, 1984."
(I didn't even have to make that up. That was the exact sentence he uttered)
Me: "Great. I have to take this call now."
At this point he was much too close to me and his smell was similar to that of rotting cabbage in a dung heap. The phone didn't ring, but I picked it up anyway and pretended. He's crazy. He didn't know better.
Co-Worker: "Listen dude. We can't have you here. You're not right. You're f**king with my money dude"
Him: "Alright sir. Well don't go getting your pistol or nothing. By the way...there's tar on that car out there. Hot tar."
Co-Worker: "It's probably from our tar pits out back. Don't fall in"