Cause women like you gets no respect

I want to insert a little two-part preface here: part one, as usual is a language warning. Part two is to say that this story involves a man who may have been suffering from some kind of mental health issue, judging by his incensed attitude, and language. I don't mean to poke fun at ANY kind of mental health issue or to imply that I don't sympathise with the subject of this story.  The intention of this piece is, as always, to write a truthful story about something that happened to me at work.  No more and no less.

'Can I listen to this, ma'am?'
He was holding Ice Cube's Greatest Hits, and I thought to myself: Today is Not a Good Day.
He had listened to that CD at least five times recently, and while we don't have a 'you listen to it, you buy it' policy, we aren't a library, and only have one listening station. Regardless, I put it on for him, and went back to my work.
He rapped along at the top of his lungs before yelling out, 'Lemme sit on that chair.'
He gestured towards a stool that was behind the counter, which I was planning on sitting on myself.
Additionally, I didn't want to encourage him to settle in to NWA's entire discography, so I respectfully declined.
'I'm sorry, but that chair is for staff only,' I grimaced apologetically.
'C'mon, the guys here let me sit down.'
'Sorry, I'm afraid not.'
'C'mon!'
Again, I said no.
'Don't be such a bitch.'
Here we go, I thought.
'I'm not going to argue the point with you,' I said. 'If you use that kind of language again, I'll have to ask you to leave.'
He spat out vehemently, 'I know what you are.  You're a Satan worshiper.'
This was a new one to me.
'You're a child-fucker.'
How he gathered this alarming insight into my sexual preferences, I don't know.  I told him to get out, or else I'd call the police
'WATCH YOUR STEP.  I'LL KILL YOU IF I SEE YOU ON THE STREET, YOU FUCKING BITCH.'
I approached within spitting distance, and ejected the CD. I suddenly felt tired, exhausted from the number of times I've been derided by complete strangers for just doing my job.  The man eventually stormed out of the shop, ranting to himself, or me.  I never saw him again.