The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude

Normally when I walk into my super efficient, Asian Dry Cleaners, I'm met with my dry cleaning waiting for me, hanging there spotless in a plastic bag with all the sleeves folded in and held together with a plastic clip doohickey. The Asian woman, that understands every other word I say, remembers me, sees me in the parking lot, hits that conveyor belt of alphabetized hanging laundry and grabs mine as "S" comes along. I pay her, tell her four more shirts and she says, "Have nice day." No small talk, which is fine with me, I pick up after work and I just want to get home to make a sandwich.
Today, she wasn't there, HE was. The one that only understands every fifth thing I say and scares me a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. Maybe I'm afraid to piss him off cause then he might kill me, kinda. The first thing that went through my mind when the Dry Cleaning door chimed me in was, "Ohh. If he doesn't kill me I'll probably get a post out of this."
I knew we were going to have a problem right from the start. My last name and an Asian accent don't mix. Seese, it sounds the same as cease, as in cease and desist all inappropriate behavior.
So by habit I said, "Seese with and "S". And then, "I have four to pick up and four to drop off."
"Are you pick up?"
"Yes, Seese with an "S".
"Ceeee?" And he emphasized with making a big "C" in the air.
"No. S E E S E. Seese with an "S"
"Are you pick up?"

I had to suppress a grin and wondered to myself, 'How far can I take this? How many more times can I say Seese with an "S" before he gets his numb-chucks out an clubs me over the head?'
Nah, I better get the shirts, I don't want to have to, dread the thought, iron this week or be thrown in a dumpster. So I did the sign language sign of writing in the air and the scary Asian dry cleaning dude produced a pen and paper.
"Ah, Seese."