You probably think that the reason I get a bunch of creepers is because I work mostly nights. You silly, silly goose. You are sorely mistaken.
I work 4 shifts a week, and three of them are night. Lately, I’ve been exclusively at night while I was taking a few summer courses. Now that they’re finished, I picked up my one midday shift again, from 1p-5p. I can confidently say that the creepers are just as prevalent in the daytime as they are at night.
Take yesterday, for instance. Just after Neoboss left for the day, around 2, a older dude walks in. Heavyset, suspenders, big mustache, the whole nine yards, probably between 55-60. He had a plastic bag with some groceries in it (a usual occurrence, since we’re right next door to a grocery store) and left it up near the counter while he browsed through magazines. He would flip through a couple pages, glance at me, then read a few more pages, then another glance, and continued on in this manner for a good fifteen minutes. This isn’t uncommon; lots of dudes check to see if I’m watching them or something, since they all think I’m judging them for perusing this month’s issue of Beaver Hunt. Most of the time, I’m not, and I leave them be while they read to do my own thing.
Older Dude finishes browsing, comes up to collect his grocery bag, and the following happens:
Older Dude: glancing between my boobs and face. “You wouldn’t happen to be in any of these here magazines, now, would ya?”
PSG: Hey guy, the face is up here. “Nope.”
Older Dude, now leering: “Well, that’s a durn shame.”
As he walked out, I realized all that glancing was probably him filing me away in his Spank Bank. BRB, VOMITING.
Take now one customer I call Twitchy MacGoogle. He’s real pale with that flat, no-color hair, and super twitchy. Twitch walks in for the first time one afternoon, twitching merrily away and looking through the porn. He comes up and asks about sex video games. This also is not uncommon; there used to be a pretty popular sex video game, similar in operation to The Sims. Only sexy, apparently. We don’t carry it, but we do have a handful of people who ask about it.
Twitchy MacGoogle: “Do you have, um, sex games? You know, for Playstation?”
PSG: “Nope, sorry, just videos. You could try looking on the internet, though.”
Twitchy MacGoogle: “What about, um, for the computer? Any computer games?”
PSG: Dude, I just said, only videos. Way to use your ears. “No sir, I’m sorry, we don’t carry video games of any kind. You’d probably have to look online for that sort of thing.”
Twitchy MacGoogle: “Oh. *long pause while he twitches away and processes this* Well, um, what website can I order those from?”
PSG: “I’m not really sure. Try Googling it, that would be your best bet.”
Twitchy MacGoogle: “Try what? What website?”
PSG: I talk kinda fast and sometimes stumble over my words, so I repeat myself clearly. “You know, Google. Try searching on there for sex games.”
Twitchy MacGoogle: Slowly and twitchily, like the word is foreign to him. “Goo…..gle? What’s that?”
PSG: ….What. “Google.com? The search engine?”
Twitchy MacGoogle: Blinks and twitches. No response.
PSG: You have GOT to be kidding me. “It’s a search website. You go to google.com and type in what you’re looking for, and it’ll find pages that are about that subject.”
Twitchy MacGoogle: “Wow, that’s awesome! Can you write that down for me so I remember it?”
He then proceeded to study that slip of paper as intently as a surgeon performing a brain transplant. Then he walked around in circles, talking to himself for ten minutes. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but every once in a while he’d look at the paper again, trying to memorize along with his ramblings.
First world porn problems. They exist.