A Very Bad Shift at the Sex Store
by L.B. WilkensonSometimes a man will come in and he’ll flirt a little and I’ll flirt back — to get him to buy stuff — and as a pat little addendum to all that, he’ll throw in a box of Magnum condoms with his purchase. He’ll push them across the counter towards me with a coy little smile.
My first customer of the night was an older man with a set of obviously fake teeth who pulled this stunt. "I'll be thinking of you when I use these," he said as he left and I felt my hand ball up into a fist under the counter. How satisfying it would’ve been to deliver him a tremendous punch to the back of the head and send those choppers flying!
Next, came my first prank call of the evening. I could tell it was a prank because they put me on speakerphone and I could hear a bunch of kids giggling in the background. The kid asked, “Do you have any dildos for my girlfriend? “Yes," I answered. Radio silence. “Yes,” I repeated. “We have dildos for your girlfriend. Loads of them.”
Obviously, he hadn’t thought the call out beforehand because he continued to sit silently on the line, struggling to think up something to say. "Boo," I finally said. "Boo, this is a terrible prank call. Gong! Get off the stage."
If you want to prank call a place and ask if they have dildos, wouldn’t it be better to call a place that doesn’t have them? Like a church or a Wendy’s or something? ‘Cause they’d be shocked by it and that would be funny annoying. Fucking kids these days, I swear.
We have vibrators out on display in what we call the petting zoo and a woman (who looked totally sane) came up to me to ask if there was a place where she could try one of them out. I wanted to drop kick her out of the store.
In the life of a display vibrator, thousands of people will touch it — gross people, people with sticky hands, people who were just scratching their butts or picking their noses. And she wanted to try it out.
“Lady,” I said, “you better learn to treat your genitals a little better than that, or one day they’re gonna walk out on you in a huff.” She didn’t like hearing it, but I have to call ‘em as I see ‘em.
At 10pm I was tidying up the sales floor when another woman — ten pounds of sugar in a five-pound sack — strolled in wearing white daisy dukes and a blouse with only the last button buttoned. Her bra kept shifting to expose her areolas.
She was obviously drunk and demanded a discount on a vibrator, which we refused her, so she started scooting around the store, opening up packages and generally creating havoc. When a man in a head wrap (!) and toga (!!) came in to ask if we had cock-shaped lollipops (we do) the woman — who it took me way too long to realize was a prostitute — accosted him. She grabbed his arm and told him he was handsome (this was a LIE) but he shook her off and said, "Uh uh, honey. I'm strictly frankfurter.”
Again she asked for a discount and again we refused her, so she decided to steal the display version of the vibrator she wanted. She was a terribly obvious thief, but I didn’t call her on it, because as I’ve already said, the displays are filthy. I wanted her to take it, use it and get crotch rot from it.
She was partially obscured when she was stealing the display and I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out where on her person she had it hidden when she walked out the door.
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