Call Girl

This lady comes in. She's old, maybe in her sixties, looking nervous. I wait a little before approaching her since she seems to be a little uncertain. When I finally come up she looks up at me and asks me to repeat myself if she's finding everything okay. She harumphs, then turns to face me fully, smiling. "This is my first time in this store, I'm looking for a big black dildo, I don't much care for vibration. I thought I'd find it no problem, but the store is much bigger than I thought it would be." I blinked in surprise at her candor but shrugged and moved her over to the non-vibrating realistic toys. "My boyfriend wants me to get one, I have him for Valentine's this year. He's got so many girls, huh, I was lucky he wanted to spend Valentine's with me. We'll see though, I've got another guy on the side, I might not stick with this one for long." I try not to react to this sixty year old player. I don't get uncomfortable with older people coming into the store, although some of my coworkers do. Some people get unsettled by the idea that their grandparents could still be having sex. What was surprising was how upfront she was being about it, typically the older someone is the more conservative they tend to be.
I set her up with a few outfits, a big black dildo like she wanted, and few other little things. She was dropping quite a bit of money and as I was ringing her up, I found out why she was so cavalier. Addressing me and my coworker she said, "You guys are pretty sexually open individuals, right?" I smiled and shrugged, "Well, we work here." Unlike most people suspect, we're just normal people, we don't attend orgies, or screw anything that moves. Almost all of us are in committed relationships, and we aren't open to everything. For instance if someone shares sex toys with their mother, I'm still going to find that shit disgusting. But she was nice, and didn't seem like she was about to unload a hotbed of weirdness on us.
"When I was younger I used to work in a massage parlor." I was about to crack a joke about happy endings when I realized she was serious, she used to be a call girl. "I had so many boyfriends it wasn't even funny. They all paid so well, treated me nice, gave me presents. I paid my way through college, had my own car, my own apartment. It was a small town, but we were a hotbed, we were. It was a small district, but it was all very corrupt. Several of my boyfriends were in government."

She had a paddle in her purchase, as I was putting it in the bag she chuckles. "He asked me to bring that. He wants to spank me. I'm not really sure about that. At the massage parlor we had this basement, it was just like a dungeon down there. I only went down once, that wasn't really my thing. But if he wants to spank me, I'll let him spank me." Me and my coworker are increasingly wide-eyed at her. She seemed like the kind of sweet old lady a boyscout might help across the street. As she's paying she sighed and shook her head. "It really was quite hard adjusting when I gave all that up. I was used to having so much money, just ready to spend. But, well, you can't do it forever." We made all the appropriate noises and when she left the store we just stared at each other for a few moments, speechless.

Just-Eighteeners

There's a precedence for people turning 18 and coming in just to come in. Often they're in groups, and rowdiness levels vary. Mostly they're super annoying, laughing and playing with products that people really use. Sometimes they're fine, they come in, giggle a little, buy something and go. Those ones aren't bad. But the groups of young guys can be awful.

In this dramatic re-imagining, they are high-fiving their malevolence.

We always ID them, and a lot of times I'll try to remember the dominant males name in case I need to chastise them later. It reminds them that you know who they are, and that they're not anonymous. Yesterday we had a group of monsters come in. There were four of five, all had just turned eighteen, and they were obnoxious from moment one. All of them were bro'd out. A coworker IDed them and they cracked jokes about being legal for her, about having fake IDs, super annoying little stuff. We gave them cold stares as they moved loudly through the store. The worst is when they're mocking something that someone came in to buy seriously, often anal toys. In this case, they went over into the gag gift sections. Within moments several items hit the floor, prongs flew everywhere, shirts were dragged off hangers, and then they moved away into the toy side without any attempts to pick anything up. They proceeded quickly to our toy tester table where people can feel a product and the vibration settings before buying. They were shoving toys in each others faces as I picked up the gag section mess, and I heard them hooting over how the toys smelled. Grinding my teeth I headed back over to rejoin my two coworkers and the new manager.

Note the guy in the back, just pushing things off a shelf

 Me and the girl who carded them griped about things we wish we could say to assholes, and the third girl on shift saw them pulling a dildo out of its package to brandish as a sword. She set off quickly to tell them off. She's super polite and hates being mean, so she kept it to: "We do ask that nothing is removed from the packaging. If you want to see something let us know and we'll open it for you at the counter." Unchastened, they browsed.
They swung by the counter and I overheard one say, "Sick dude, was that you?" I immediately smelled the rankest fart of my life and swept over to my coworkers telling them to back away as the guy ran laughing into male toys.We have a particular kind of male masturbator that is a one time use. It comes with lube inside it already, and people frequently open them and subsequently ruin them, since we can't sell them opened. I hear the crinkle and turn to see one of the boys pulling the bottom off it. I came up and gave them the evil eye. They towered over me like giants and cowered before my wrath. "Opening products isn't allowed. You just ruined that, we can't sell it once it's been opened. Can I have it?"

They hand it over like kids who've just been smacked with a wooden spoon and I approach the new manager with the opened sleeve. "Hey, they just ruined this." The girl who had already told them not to open things pipes in that they had received a warning not to open things not two minutes previously. The manager considered this for a moment, and we waited with bated breath. She's new enough that we weren't sure her policy would be to kick them out. She nodded and took the cup, bearing down on them like a ship under full sail.
"Guys, you were just told explicitly moments ago not to open anything, and then you broke this. We can't sell it now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." One petulantly asked if he could still buy something and she told him no. Sullen and whining, they left loudly exclaiming that they would head up the road to our competitors. They were unaware then, that the competing store had closed down last week and they had just blown it at the only local shop. We hid our smirks until they left then burst out laughing, imagining their disappointment when they arrived at the closed business. 

Personal Information

I hear lots of stuff about people's personal lives, and most of it is normal, or at least not really out there. I don't mind hearing confidences if it helps me get them the right toys. But sometimes...

This girl comes in. She's gaunt, with long dirty blonde hair, and baggy clothes. She heads straight to the ten dollar toys, which most younger people do. Still, I came over and asked if she needed help. Unlike most people who are typically pretty shy, she was downright gregarious. She regaled me with stories about how she didn't really need a new vibrator, how the one she had got her off in under a minute. I backed off a little, trying to disengage from the conversation. Undeterred, she presses her advantage, and pulls out this little number.
"My mom and I actually share toys." I stare at her. Normally I have no judgement at work, people do things with their bodies and that's their own deal. "Most people would think that's gross, huh?" I grimaced and shrugged and asked "Do you at least wash them?" She hastened to assure me they cleaned them with alcohol. (Note: Don't clean your toys in alcohol!) I suggested toy cleaner or body wash instead while thinking privately that nuclear-power bleach wouldn't be enough to remove the taint of sharing a sex toy with your own mother.

 Some of the things I hear are from coworkers rather than customers though. Generally we have no boundaries. This is one of my favorites. On the topic of shaven or unshaven, my assistant manager said that it's impossible for her to keep pubic hair. "Why? Is there something wrong with yours?" She snorts, "Yeah, it grows straight!" I had that mental image for a moment. "What like... when it's grown out, it's really just straight?" "Yeah," she said, "and it's sparse, it looks like a balding guy with a bad comb over."

When you pull her pants down it's just a good-natured balding man.

The Regular

This is me being weirdly fastidious but c'mon.  This girl is paying for her sex toy and right before she hands me her card, she uses it to itch her nose. What? Have some decorum. Have some social grace, I don't need your facial oils all over my machine lady. Gross.

So, regulars. I've seen plenty across the board at my various jobs. Some think they're hot shit and some are delightful. At STORE (yeah we have a name, this is so I don't ruffle feathers) we have this one guy. In keeping with my anonymity policy I will leave him unnamed. He will be That One Guy.  Tog for short.  Tog comes in erratically. Sometimes we'll see him several times a week sometimes once a month.

Tog works at the local mall as a janitor and seems several nickels short of a dollar. He comes in often in his uniform, but if its a day off, he comes in in a wolf moon sweatshirt. Not ironically. His visits vary in length, and he only buys DVDs. My first few weeks he purchased several, but he very seldom buys.

We have a deal where when you buy two movies, the third is for free. If Tog doesn't feel there's three worth getting, he'll let us pick one for the employee library. It is unwise to ask Tog his opinion on our selection (his preferences are for 80's hair and 80's porn), though he often tells us loudly. There are several Togisms, here are a few.
"You may as well mark them all clearance right now!"
"This stuff is all garbage, who even buys it?"
On the subject of us cutting back on DVDs: "You guys are gonna go out of business within a week."

It is unwise in the extreme to contradict Tog. He goes into repeat mode at higher volume for long periods of time. Like the many who lack social graces, he has no concept of what is said for politeness' sake, or what people's faces look like when they would rather be shot in the head rather than listen to him prophesy our doom one more time.

Trying to reason with Tog is circular and fruitless.
"We actually sell more in toys than we do in movies. "
This will earn a grunt, a head shake, and a Togism.
Agreeing is another tactic.
"Yeah man, it's crazy but corporate never listens to us. "
This gets you away only slightly faster and overall the best results with Tog are achieved when we greet him by name at the door, nod to any comments but say nothing, and wave goodbye.

We just cleared out all the DVD's besides instructional and  full length feature films. I am quite looking forward to his reaction and subsequent vacating of our premises.

Bizarre Conduct

Sometimes people do shit that's so weird that there's not a good immediate answer to it. For instance.

This guy comes in. He asks about cock rings and grabs 5 condoms. As I'm ringing him up I mention we have a condom deal where if he grabs one more he can get three for free. He says no thanks, he'll be in next week. This gives me pause because seriously, he's gonna come in next week for more condoms when he can just get three for free? But it's his choice so I drop it and continue ringing him in. A coworker comes up and sees the five condoms. She repeats verbatim what I said and slightly annoyed he says, "I'm aware of that, but I just need five. I'll be back next week." She stares at him and says they have a three year shelf life and he just shakes his head. He pays with a 100 dollar bill (which is annoying, since his total was only $15) and I hand him his change. He says not to worry about the change and takes his coins, and a dollar and leaves them on the counter, leaving promptly. I stared down at it. It's not that uncommon for people to not want coins, and we generally just stick it in a give-a-penny-take-a-penny cup. But he deliberately added a dollar to the pile. I could only assume that he meant it as a tip, which considering we don't have a tip jar and we're an adult store, seems pretty damn weird. My coworker joins me staring at it. "Did he just tip you?" I nod and we look at it for a moment more. "Just take it" she said and I scooped it up and popped it in my pocket.

There's also a certain amount of leakage between our job and the real world. We don't consider it weird to talk about things that would make most of society blush. At my old store we played games at our ladies nights. We went through all our porn to find sultry one-liners, and whoever could read them aloud in the sexiest way without giggling won a prize. After reading through a lot of erotica I went on a walk later with some friends. I was loudly regaling them with a ludicrous story about a guy whose wife's vagina just wasn't tight enough to make him orgasm, so he switched to her butt. It seemed so ridiculous, erotica is supposed to be the epitome of sexiness, whose idea of sexy is their wife's loose vagina? My friends laughed, and then we all looked over to see a group of people on their balcony staring at us in horror.

Likewise, our assistant manager came in one day and told us how she got finger-fucked in an alley. We all grimaced and said that might not be the most appropriate, and the mental image was appalling. As we were discussing it another coworker was texting. She exclaimed in horror a moment later and we all looked over at her. "You know when you're thinking something, but writing something else? I almost texted my dad about finger fucking!"

The People I See

So there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the conduct people find appropriate inside the store. For instance, the phone. I've had three separate instances of people wanting to use the phone and being batshit insane about it.

This guy comes in right after my transfer, and waves of alcohol are rolling off him. He's huge and scruffy, like he just lost a job. He seems unsteady on his feet. He comes up to the counter and just stares at me. I greet him politely, to no response. I ask if there's anything I can help him with today. He stands at my counter for another 30 seconds before asking to use the phone, because he needs a cab. That was blindingly obvious to me, but I say, "I can let you use the phone, but I don't know the number to the cab company, and I don't know where the yellow pages are in this store yet, so you have to know the cab number." He makes no response, just stares at me. I fidget uncomfortably and ask, "Didn't you need to use the phone?" He gives himself a little shake and says, "You're really pretty." I make a face that could potentially be interpreted as a smile and shave the phone at him. He takes it and looks down at it in his hands like he has never seen a phone before. He then looks up at me frowning. "Dial it!"
I breathe slowly and repeat myself. He continues to stare at me, and just as I'm wishing I had a coworker on hand, my assistant manager shows up. I greeted her like an excited puppy, "Heywheredowekeeptheyellowpages?!" She looks at me weird and pulls the book out of a drawer. Excited to get this crazy out of the store I find the local cab service, dial and hand him the phone and a flyer. I point to the flyer, "This is our address, when they ask where to pick you up, it's this." There is no comprehension on his face and he holds the ringing phone to his ear, looking around like a dazed baby. "Where am I?" he says. I frown and point to the flyer, and our address. He then without another word puts down the phone, turns, and leaves.
My A.M. laughs and asks what the fuck just happened. I recount the adventure, and just as I'm finishing, the sloshed giant returns. I duck behind the counter and give the A.M. my puppy eyes, entreating her to deal with this guy. He approaches her and gives her his vacant stare attack. She is in no mood to coddle a drunk, and switches to sassy mode. "What are you staring at, huh? What do you want dude?" He ogles for a moment and says he needs to use the phone. She laughs, "You were just in here buddy, not five minutes ago, and you left as we handed you the phone." A slow frown starts creeping up on him and I pipe in, "It's true, you came in, and I handed you the phone and when it was ringing, you hung up and left." He reels backward for a moment then out of nowhere screams, "THAT'S BULLSHIT!" I flinch and my AM gets a don't-fuck-with-me look on her face. "That's enough, leave." She shepherds him out of the store.
About an hour later she was running to the bank and saw him at the pub across the street, getting assisted into the back of a cop car.

The next phone wack-a-doo came in several months later. He came up to the counter reeking of smoke. I wrinkled my nose and took a step back. He looks particularly haggard, unshaven, bags under his eyes, with a backpack on, screaming vagrant. I waited politely for him to state his business, since he bee lined to the counter showing no interest in shopping. He comes up and says, "Hey, can I use your phone?" I hesitate and my coworker who is slightly closer to him looks at me for confirmation. I nod, "Yeah, you can make a quick call." He takes the phone and pauses. "Will it show up as a sex store on the caller ID?" Me and my coworker shrug, and share a look, like, if you're gonna come into an adult store to use the phone, you can't really be picky. We say we're not sure and I bustle off to do some stocking, leaving her in the front. Surreptitiously I pop into the back where our only male coworker is eating lunch. "Hey, I know you're on lunch, but we have a severe creeper up front, I'd feel a little more comfortable if you'd join us, when you're done." He came back out as the vagrant is regaling us with stories of just being out of prison, of having been on meth and going into a store like ours, of wondering the reaction of his call recipient if they have caller ID. He made his call but the line was busy, and he looked at us and said, "What does that mean?" My coworker is really sweet and patient. She explained that they must be on the phone with someone else. So he stands at our counter, spinning the phone, and we're not sure if he's waiting to make another call, or just idly chatting with us. Our male coworker made sure to be in the near vicinity but finally the guy gets through to his number, which turned out to be his mom, alerting her that he was in town and needed a ride. When he left our phone was emanating cigarette smoke and I had to sanitize it twice until it smelled normal again.

The last phone etiquette mistake wasn't really creepy. She comes up to the counter and asks to use the phone. I look at her hands where she has a perfectly functioning cell phone. I look back up at her and she's just looking at me waiting for an answer. I point to the phone in her hands and she gets annoyed. "I'm Canadian, and I don't have roaming." We're right near the border so it's not unusual she's Canadian but her casual assumption that I'd intuit the situation irked me. She said she had a boyfriend in town and needed to call him to meet up. I said sure, if she was quick. She took the phone and promptly turns, plopping herself down on the couch we have for sale. I stare at her, wondering if she really needs to sit to make a call. 15 minutes later, I'm not wondering anymore. She chats away loudly with her boyfriend, dithering about where they'll meet and you hang up first- no you hang up first. It got to the point that everyone on shift was on the brink of yelling that we needed to call another of our store locations. After 20 minutes she returned the phone without a thank you.