Going through an old online journal I kept during my Sex Shop Girl days has been a goldmine of customer stories and odd memories. There was never a dull moment in the shop, which was one of the main reasons why I loved those jobs so much. Every person who walked in the door was an adventure – you never knew what they were interested in or what their story would be.
One of my favorite stories is of the WTF variety and from my early days. One of the first stores I worked for was in a popular bar district, so as the sun went down and the drinks were knocked back the evening became more and more interesting.
This day I had worked the day shift and was waiting for my relief to show up, it’s maybe 5pm on a Friday, the street is just starting to fill up. My then partner is waiting for me to get out of there, the store has two or three customers milling about, the door opens and instantly I know this guy is going to be trouble.
Customer comes in with a black bag, denoting that he’s got an item to return. This is coupled with the fact I can see his eyes are bloodshot and dilated from across the store. He’s tweaking hardcore and apparently very disappointed in the (cheap) buttplug he had purchased the night before. He slams it on the counter so I can see first hand that he has not cleaned this toy post use.
For what I believe are obvious reasons we did not do returns on used products, and he did not take kindly to the fact that I would not handle his unwanted plug or give him money for his unwanted plug. Words were exchanged, he got more than a little out of hand and was escorted out with help from Partner and my trusty friend, Bear Mace.
Still waiting for the next shift to arrive and now really just wanting to get home and have a drink. I’m at the counter quietly cussing my relief for being later than usual when the door chimes open and I hear a “THUD” and “SPLAT”.
Tweaker has thrown a fucking open can of CREAMED CORN into the store. Let me say that again…
Creamed FUCKING Corn
Why? I’ll never know, but it was everywhere. Lube shelves, Toy boxes, games…Everywhere. This is also the exact moment my co-worker decided to wander in, so being the good friend and slight superior that I was, I left it for her to deal with. She told me the next day that he kept coming back and pelting the windows with more cans. Creamed corn.
Can’t make this shit up if I wanted to.