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The telephone is a magnificent invention, but when you work in a porn shop, most days it just makes you wanna kick Alexander Graham Bell in the nuts.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop], how can I help you?”

Drunkenly slurring gruff voice: “Yeah, how much is ya’ll’s cover?”

PSG: “I’m sorry?”

Gruff dude: “Your cover charge, how much is the cover charge?”

PSG: “Sir, I’m sorry, we’re an adult DVD and novelty store, not a strip club.”

Gruff dude, calling to buddy in background: “THEY AIN’T A STRIP CLUB, WHERE WE SUPPOSED TO GO SEE GIRLS? I WANNA SEE TITTIESSSSSSS, WHERE CAN WE GOOOOOOOO–*click*”

The internet, so there’s no chance of breeding.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Irritated woman: “Yes, I bought this vibrator from you, and it stopped working. I’d like to return it.”

PSG: It’s been in your vagoo. FUCK NO. “I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t take returns, it’s store policy.”

Even more irritated Woman: “What?! But it stopped working! While I was using it! You HAVE to take it back!”

PSG: I can’t, because it’s fucking nasty and I don’t want your cooter cooties. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s a biohazard, we can’t allow used items in the store.”

Impossibly irritated Woman: “But I’ve washed it and everything!”

Maybe, but Dial won’t wash off the Herp.

PSG: “Hello, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Nervous Woman: “Um, hello. How much do the, ah, young men charge for, um, lap dances?”

PSG: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re not a porn store, we’re an adult DVD and nov-”

Now furious Woman: “FUCK! –*click*”

Hi there, overreaction!

—-

PSG: “Hello, thanks for calling [pornshop].”

Chipper dude: “Hello there, miss! I don’t mean to be rude, but would it be alright if I asked you a personal question?”

PSG: “I…guess so?”

Chipper dude: “Are you single?”

PSG:  “…What?”

Alarmingly chipper Dude: “Yeah, are you single?”

PSG: “Um…I don’t feel comfortable discussing such personal matters with customers…”

Still creepily chipper: “Okay, thanks! You have a good night, dear! –*click*”

…what the fuck.

PSG: “Hi, this is [pornshop].”

Gangsta Thug: “Yo, how much is yo VIP room? Ya know, where the private dances and shit hap-”

PSG: “NO TITS HERE, KBYE–*click*”

All of these phone calls (with the exception of my response to the very last one, ‘cos I got bills to pay) have actually taken place. Seriously. You can’t make this shit up, people.

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One Comment

  1. So I was just in a downer mood and this post made me smile!


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