No more

I quit today.
No more blog

Dear crank-callers: Get a life

Prank calls to a sex shop is not a new development.
People have been doing it for as long as either have existed.
However, the people doing the calling think this was somehow their idea, as if no one has ever done it before.

I get my share of prank calls.
And I have to admit, I look forward to them.

We get very few phone calls as is. Whenever the phone rings, I expect the caller ID to display a familiar number; either a manager or another store.
Occasionally customers will call.
The phone will ring, and an unfamiliar number will appear. I'm more willing to answer if the call is being made from a land line. Calls from a cell phone are usually being made en route, and the person is likely lost so I have to lead them through whatever maze they've gotten lost in.
The calls are pretty mundane. "Where are you located?" "What are your hours?" "Are you hiring?"
Most calls end after less than 30 seconds.
"East 7Th Street." "10am to 10pm." "No."
Occasionally customers call asking about products. "What do you have? What color is it? How much is it? What else is there?"
At that point I'm not willing to do someone's shopping for them over the phone, so I kindly tell them that we have a variety of toys so it would be best if they just came in to look.

But once in a while the phone will ring and the caller ID will display "Withheld."
Not gonna lie, it makes me a bit giddy when this happens.
I almost know what to expect, and I turn into Sarcastic Mega Bitch.

I will admit, though, that I've been had. My co-worker totally got me one time. I'm still getting over it. I was SO MAD AT HIM!!! But it's hard to be mad when you're laughing hysterically.

Anyway, back to what inspired this post.

It had been a few days since my last prank call, and I'm getting so good at detecting them that they're no fun anymore.
People just aren't as creative as they used to be.
That, or I've just heard it all.

Last night was a pretty typical eye-roller.

*Phone rings*
Caller ID displays "Withheld"
I turn giddy with excitement (it was my Tuesday highlight, I had been reading about serial killers for HOURS with no customers).
I answer.
"[Name of store], how can I help you?"
"Um...hello?"
The girl on the other line was SOBBING.
"Uh, can I help you?" I asked after rolling my eyes (who calls a store while sobbing? Clearly a prank).
In between sobs she managed to yell, "My boyfriend broke up with me and I don't know how to pleasure myself!!!" *Sob sob sob*
...are you kidding me?
"Well, honey, neither do I."
More sobbing.
"But...but isn't this a sex shop?" *sniffle sob sob*
"Yes, yes it is."
"SO WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME?!"
"I'm a sales associate. What you need is a therapist." *Enter Mega Bitch*
"Well what am I supposed to DO?!" *OMG it's the end of the world!!! OMG OMG*
"We have a lot of things for you to try. We sell bullets, vibrators, dildos, anal beads, porn DVDs, or whatever you're into," I say very sternly.
"well, do you sell battery-operated boyfriends?"
*trying to hold back laughter*
"You'll have to check E-Bay for that one, honey." (What I REALLY wanted to say is, "Yes we do, but as soon as you cry or bitch or moan, they break.)
More yelling. "BUT THEY OTHER SEX STORE SAID THEY HAD IT!"
"Like I said. E-Bay."
*sniffle sniffle* 'What about Craig's List?"
"Yeah, try that."
And with that, the sobbing miraculously ceased.
"Um, ok thank you bye!"
"Uh, bye."
*Click*

I really want to know what this girl thought she would get out of this call.
I hope it was really funny.

However, if this wasn't a prank call, I feel bad for whatever therapist has to deal with THAT.

But I look forward to many more prank calls in the future!


Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice

I figured it was about time to update. Another disturbing CMF

Whenever I have mentioned the CMF (creepy motherfucker) in the past, it has been in reference to some creepy older man who seems to have no social filter. Well, this case is different. In many very wrong ways.
What makes this CMF different?
1) He's young.
2) He's not out to hit on anyone or pick me up.
3) He genuinely needed help and had legitimate questions.

So what makes him a CMF?
Well, for one, he creeped me the FUCK out. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor numerous times because I was so shocked by what he was saying. At first I felt bad for the poor guy. But soon I was annoyed. And finally, completely creeped out.

He came in the store one evening to ask me a few questions.
First of all, this guy was probably 5'2 at the most. He had long blond hair in a low pony tail covered with a baseball cap. Baggy jeans, camo-hoodie. Normal enough. Then I heard him speak.
I don't know if I was more shocked by his question or by his voice.
He was speaking in falsetto.
ummm...WHAT?
trying to keep from laughing, I listened to his "question."
"Um," (imagine Michael Jackson's voice) "I'm a virgin and...well, I don't know."
Uh, okay? Was this a question?
I was trying to be nice and helpful like I usually am, but I was sort of at a loss for words. I wasn't really shocked that he was a virgin. I get people in on occasion that admit they're virgins. One guy told me he was a virgin because he couldn't find his penis, and I was supposed to tell him how to do that, or something.
But in this case, he just stared at me and expected me to unload some sort of wisdom upon him so that he could leave knowing how to solve his dilemma.
Silence...
"Also," he continued, "I have a really small penis. Like, 2 inches. And about the girth of my pinkie."
I was a deer in headlights. It took me a while to process.
Once I was able to pick my jaw up off the floor, I asked him what he would like me to help him with.
"Well, I just need something to help me get it in...there."
uh...huh.
I showed him what we have for penis extenders.
Yes, they're real. They're a hollow sleeve with a solid few inches at the end to add length and girth to those who wish to be more well-endowed. They look like realistic dildoes, but half of it is hollow. It's designed to slip over the penis. It also takes away ANY pleasure for the guy. I feel sorry for men who feel that this is the only way they can please a woman. There are SO MANY things guys can do for women, but all they're concerned about is penis size. Although, that's all some women are concerned about, as well. It's a sad concept, but I'm a sales person, so if that's what a guy is concerned about, I make a 40 dollar sale.
When I showed them to him he asked, "How do they stay on?"
"Well they're really stretchy, and you essentially roll it on like you would a condom. It holds itself in place over an erect penis."
"It looks really heavy, it would fall off."
Yeah, probably. But I offered to open the package so he could feel the material and determine if it would fit (based on sight...).
He concluded that, no, it would not fit. Even the smallest tightest one we had wouldn't fit.
And how did he determine this? He tried to wear it on his pinkie finger. It fell off.
I was nearly ecstatic when more customers came in the store, so I had an excuse to stop helping this guy.
I figured he would just leave.
Uh, no.

He started looking through our lingerie and after AN HOUR (yes, it took him an hour to look at 28 lingerie pieces) he brought some to the counter because he wanted to try them on.
"Sure, that's fine, but just remember to keep your under garments on."
He unzipped his hoodie to reveal a glittery disaster of a tank top. He grabbed his chest. "You mean, I have to keep my bra on?"
Right...you're wearing a bra. And false boobs, apparently.
"Um, yes."
"But then how will I see if it holds my boobs?"
"Well, it...um...it's not...uh..."
He was just staring at me. With his broken out face and black meth head teeth and disgusting dirty fingernails and his intense BO stench...
"It's not meant to be supportive." I really, REALLY didn't want him to try anything on. I was afraid he would stain it and make it smell, then I'd have to ask him to buy it and...UGH.
I eventually convinced him to come in another day.
So he left.
FINALLY, after over 90 minutes of dealing with his stench, his incessant questions, hearing about his pinkie-sized penis, looking at his meth-addict face...he was gone.
I HAD to call my manager and tell her about this guy. After 10 years in the business, she was as shocked as I was.
We concluded that he wouldn't be back.

But guess what?!
We were wrong!

LUCKILY it was not during my shift. My co-worker was more than familiar with this guy at that point, after hearing my stories, so he recognized him as soon as he walked in.
He showed him the hollow harness dildoes, the penis-enlargement pills (yes, they still sell those), and whatever else we had to offer. But it wasn't enough. This guy wanted us to SOLVE his problem for him.
Well, dude, this isn't our problem, it's YOURS.
We showed him what we had, and that's all we could have done.
But he wouldn't leave.
I guess he was there for another 90 minutes asking the same stupid questions and bugging my co-worker and manager. There's a point where we CANNOT HELP YOU ANYMORE, but he didn't recognize that.
I think he was convinced t hat we were hiding something from him. Some secret device that will de-virginize him. They were busy taking inventory, but he wouldn't SHUT UP.
I guess he left after a while.
But he came back. AGAIN.
He continued to bug us with his stupid questions, and my co-worker finally had to tell him to STFU when he came up to the counter with a pair of panties asking, "Do you think these would fit me?"
And my co-worker didn't even look at him and said "I have no idea."

And we haven't seen him since.

I think about that guy a lot.
Every time I see a crazy cracked out meth head, or every time someone makes a joke about a small penis, or whenever I smell horrid BO...
Did he ever "get it in...there?"
Did he die of a meth overdose?
Or did he just kill himself after realizing that he'll be a virgin forever, because no woman wants to fuck a bra-wearing midgit with disgusting teeth, overpowering body odor, and a pinkie for a penis.

Whatever it is, I don't think we'll be seeing him again.

Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice

Most traumatizing CMF to date.

Traumatizing to someone else, maybe. To me? I can handle it.

I haven't been too motivated to update, considering my attention has drifted elsewhere (The Creationism/Evolution by Natural Selection controversy. It makes me want to explode, and not in a good way...), but the other night while out at a bar I frequent, the topic of my work came up. As I was sitting talking to perfect strangers, one of them said, "hey, I know this blog you should read..." As it turns out, she was referencing my blog. I only have 8 followers and rarely get any comments, so I had no idea anyone was even reading this thing. But now I am motivated, once again.

Ok so back to my CMF.
I first encountered him while subbing at a different store. I was pretty creeped out but also glad that I wouldn't have to see him again.
Until he started frequenting MY store.

So please, imaging:
Creepy pseudo-tranny who looks completely normal from the shoulders up, but wears glittery tank tops that show off his chest hair, fake press-on nails in vivid colors, 7 inch black stripper heels, and silver women's leggings with nothing underneath or over the top. I'm guessing he's a closet tranny, due to the fact that his fake nails fall off so easily and also that he has decided to never trim his body hair. Also, he's bald.
He typically carries around horrid designer purse knock offs. I can tell he tries to flaunt them around, so once I decided to compliment how fabulous I thought it was (I'm a good liar).
Big mistake. After not saying a single word the entire time, he now couldn't shut up about his designer purse. Then he couldn't shut up about his shoes. Then I was wondering if he would EVER shut up, because I was sick of hearing about how usually he wears only a 5" heel but he decided to be daring and go for the 7" style because he's so short and hopes he won't fall...or something. I stopped listening.
But...I guess that's his fetish.
Women's accessories.
While talking about them, he gets major wood.
And with his 7" heels, his crotch is above counter-level, creating a display only a blind person could ignore.

So, picture if you will, a glittery display of this dudes man-bits.
He is a regular, so I knew of this problem as SOON as he walked in.
I did as I usually do, and tried my damndest to avert my eyes.
But failed.
I knew very well at this point that this guy's fetish is to talk about his outfit, and even though I tried really hard not to say anything, he still found it exciting that someone was looking
And through his tight, thin, silver leggings, nothing was left to the imagination.

So here he is again.
Great.
I was told by my manager to tell him to leave if it (his wood display) happens again.

He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him.
To get me to talk, he brought up several pairs of leather "manties" and asked what their prices were, since he didn't have his glasses on. He held every pair high up in front of him, displaying them very clearly, and asked "What's the price on this one?"
Then he inquired about sizing. "This says medium. What does that mean?"
It means it's a size medium...
"does that mean medium around the waiste or...?"
UGH, dude! We don't sell underwear according to your dick size.
I was NOT going to feed his sick fetish so I snatched them away from him and told him the prices.
He continued to walk around the store...excitedly. Very excitedly.
He decided to buy one pair of leather manties.

So now I was getting really nervous. He was displaying his major wood in the public space where I work. Despite the nature of the store, this is NOT ok. Like I always say: The rules out there still apply in here.
I knew I had to ask him to not return...

As I rang him up, I very nicely said, "I have a piece of advice for you. I know you're a regular and we'd love to keep you as a customer, but I would ask that you wear different pants next time you come in the store. What you're wearing now leaves little to the imagination and could make some people uncomfortable. I don't want anyone to be offended."

I'm pretty sure I stuttered through the whole thing.
1) I HATE confrontation. I could feel my face getting flushed and my hands start to shake.
2) I HATE making people uncomfortable. I could see in his face that he was upset.
3) I lied. I don't want him to be a customer anymore.
4) I wrote an incident report. My manager will review the tape and we'll post his photo on our CMF (creepy mother fucker) wall, so we all know to ask him to leave if he comes back wearing his "look at my boner!" pants.

That was the last anyone has seen of him. His photo is indeed on our wall of shame, along with all the other CMFs we have to watch out for.

But really, even if it IS your fetish to wander through sex shops with your high heels and ladie's clothing, it's still not socially acceptable.

I'm all for being who you are and doing what you want, within reason. We get plenty of Trannies in the store, and I'm totally cool with it, as long as I don't have to be exposed to their genitals. Usually, I'm very fond of them. Trannies, not their genitals...
But what would happen if that CMF went from my store directly to the gas station less than a block away? What if he was standing in line behind a mother and her daughter, and the daughter turned around only to get a face full of glittery wood?
I feel like I did that guy a favor. He clearly has no other tranny friends to tell him how to dress.
Maybe if I see him again I'll direct him to a few...


Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice

Another customer to be wary of: The Clucking Hens

First of all, I spologize for the delay in updates, if anyone was concerned...
Work has been, well, work, and nothing really interesting has been happening. Customer-wise anyway. I'm sure my boss is sick of my emotional mini breakdowns by now. But enough of that.

The other night I was inspired to write about another customer type: the type I call the "Clucking Hens."

Now, imagine if you will, a chicken coop. Dozens of hens are clustered together in a small space, walking around, bobbing their heads, and having seemingly interesting conversations with one another. They only ever see each other, so that is all they know. They're loud, often white, with over-sized breasts, and they are ALWAYS making noise. Imagine them to be middle-aged carrying Prada knock off handbags.
Now open the door of this hypothetical chicken coop, and instead of dispersing, the chickens continue to cluster themselves into groups. After a few drinks and many, many appetizers, one chicken in one group decides, "Hey, let's go to a sex shop, just for kicks." and the other chickens cluck together in delightful agreement.
This isn't your normal clucking.
This is "I'm about to lay an egg, IS THAT A WOLF?! Hey, look at that sexy cock" clucking.
They come into my store to "look" (ie, not buy anything). They start out by the Bachelorette novelty stuff.
Oh, fuck.
They huddle around a few items together, and you can hear faint whispers, as if they're too embarrassed to figure out what it is. But watch out, because once they find out, the CLUCKING begins. "psst psst psst...CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK!!!!!" Shut. Up.
One time, it startled me so much I fell off my chair.
Seriously.
Maybe that's why we're not supposed to sit down with customers in the store...
They make their way around to the Lingerie, grabbing items and expressing "HOW CUUUUTE" everything is.
They literally have NO other adjective to use when looking at clothing.
"Well, that's so CUTE!"
"My, how CUTE!!!"
"Cute!"
"Cute!"
CLUCK
CLUCK
CLUCK!!!!!!!!!

I always dread the moment they reach the phallic vibrators.
I have no idea why, but it always elicits hoards of CACKLING CLUCKING LAUGHTER. The kind that can only be emitted by a group of overweight middle aged hens who have had one too many martinis.
"Oh, too funny!" is what they tend to say.

Normally, there is nothing I can do about it.
If they want to act like children and cover up their insecurities with laughter, whatever.

Now, sometimes, a few cocks will join a group of clucking hens.
This is what I dread most of all, because the cocks only encourage the hens to keep clucking away.
"Hey, ladies, look at this!!!" one cock will say while proudly displaying one of our many pussy-ass sets. Yes, they're real molds of real women's fun bits for men to play with. Pathetic enough as they are, now it's even worse when rubbed into the faces of mortified middle-aged hens.
Of course their embarrassment is always covered up with more cackling clucking.

Last week, this very thing happened to me.
I had other customers in the store, and in order to keep from losing sales or making people uncomfortable, I HAD to tell them to settle down.
I never thought I'd see the say when I'd have to tell a group of adults that could be my parents to settle down.
But it's happened.
Too many times to keep track of.
I pulled one clucker aside and informed her that they needed to keep the noise level down and the clucking, er, laughing to a minimum.
She relayed the message to the other cluckers and cluck-enablers, and after that I had 10 minutes of nice quiet so I could help people who actually had questions.
10 minutes.
Soon enough the clucking started up again.
It escalated to the point where I couldn't even hear myself speak anymore.
Now I was pissed.
I walked over to where the majority of them were clucking, and I said, "I've told you once already to keep it down. If I have to ask again, you'll be asked to leave."
You could see the shame in their faces.
They looked like little puppies who had just gotten caught drinking out of the toilet.
Moments later, the filed silently out the door, the way hens do on their way to slaughter...
wow that was morbid.

Once they were gone, I was able to sigh deeply and plop back into my chair.

That night, I actually sold a pussy-ass set.


Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice

"The cops are on speed dial, just so you know."

I substituted for someone at another store tonight.
It's in a strip mall, so I was expecting a lot of foot traffic.
I was right, and it was much busier than my store on a Friday night.
The customers were also a lot different (read: all suburban white folk).

I was not expecting, however, the amount of kids running around.
Now, by "kids," I mean anyone not allowed in my store.
Anyone under 18.

A group of 5 of them barged in the store tonight and began making lude comments.
"Oh fuck yeah! That's full on girl-on-girl action!"

Suspecting they were not of age, I demanded to see their IDs.
Imagine my bouncer face.

Two of them pretended to search their pockets.
One just stood in front of me, staring.
And the other two stood nervously by the door.

When the two that were pretending to search both said, "I can't find it," one standing by the door responded, "Aw, man. You guys forgot your IDs?"
I told him he's a horrible actor. Instead of trying to say he wasn't acting, he just looked offended.

I said, very sternly (it was fun!) "You need to leave. Now."

The tallest one remarked, "I actually AM 18." But I ignored him.

The two by the door started making a fuss, as well. "Really, he is! And so are we!"
"You're not fooling anyone. GET. OUT."
As they turned to walk out the door, one turned around and said, "Really, I'm 16, but I have the cock of an 18 year old!"
"OUT!!! NOW!!!"

After 4 of them were successfully out the door, I had to deal with the tall one standing right in front of me. The one claiming he really was 18.
"Sorry about my little brothers," as if he were trying to be smooth, "but I'm 18."

"I'd like to believe you, but it's illegal for you to be here without proof of age."
"Really?"
"Yes, really, so if you don't leave RIGHT THIS SECOND I will call the cops."
But he continued to walk farther into the store.
"Listen, we're clearly not understanding each other here. I need ID or I WILL CALL THE POLICE."
Slowly but surely he inched his way to the door.
"Other side of the door. NOW!" I said as I picked up the phone. "The cops are on speed dial, just so you know," I said as I pretended to dial. "Your ass will be OUT OF THIS BUILDING SOON, and you'd better hope it's your own doing."

I think he finally got it. Only after OTHER CUSTOMERS were trying to help me. One began to dial 911 on her cell phone after she saw that I was only pretending.
"Ok ok! No need to trip!" he yelled as he left.

Seriously. Kids think they can get away with anything.
This is not my first experience with hooligans trying to get a rise out of me.

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes groups of young (13-17) guys will rush into my store and suddenly disperse. Then I have to panic to quickly get them out before I get a fine.
$5000.
That's how much the fine is for having a minor in your store.
Well, that's the fine for helping a minor in my store. I'm sure if the cops saw me trying to rush them out, they wouldn't fine me.
And they don't fine the store.
They fine ME.
I don't have $5000 for some young bloods to stand by the door way and make wise cracks about the (false) size of their genitals.

For some reason, one of them ALWAYS comments on his penis as he's leaving the store. At least, every time it's happened to me.

When they rush in and disperse, I KNOW they're trying to steal something.
I caught one in the back of the store trying to grab DVD cases before I could run up to him.
Even if they get away with it
All of our discs are behind the counter, so all they get are the cases.
So, joke's on you, bastard!

All I can do is threaten to call the cops. No one could ever get there fast enough to bust these kids.

But I always find it to be very...empowering to be able to kick people out of my store with a legitimate reason.
I feel a sense of authority when I'm able to tell some kid to get the fuck out of my store.
It's not really out of a sense of urgency.
If they want to watch porn, they can get it anywhere, that's not the issue.

The issue is protecting my other customers.
If they know I let kids just walk right in, they won't come back.

And it's just the principle of the damned thing!
Personally, I don't break rules.
If I do, it's because I know I will get away with it.
They know perfectly well that they're breaking a big rule that they may not get away with.
They're doing it for a rush, a high.
I will not give it to them.
I can put on my bouncer face, but I will not yell.
Maybe I'm just trying to teach them a lesson.
Maybe I just feel that my work place is like my home, and I don't want to let weirdos in.

But maybe I just want that high that these kids are looking for.

Oh, also, some creep rubbed my arm when I was behind the counter.
*shudder*

"

Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice

We were all 18 once

Remember being 18?
When the words "boner" and "dong" were so funny they elicited laughter?
When watching porn made you uncomfortable, so you'd laugh to cover it up?
When you thought you knew EVERYTHING?
When you thought you could be in charge?
when...

*sigh*
Those were the good ol days.

Now we're smarter.
We're smart enough to know that it's impolite to mock people's porn preferences.
Smart enough to realize when we're making an ass of ourselves.
Smart enough to know when no one thinks we're being funny.

But these 18 year olds that come into my store...
They think they are entitled to everything.

For one, they are more than proud to show off their IDs, as a way of validating their value in society.
Wow, you're 18, so grown up! When do you graduate high school?

Secondly, they think they are the only people in the store. Either that, or they're trying to be noticed. Either way, they're loud. And irritating.

Third, they're so damned suspicious! I hate doing it, but I keep a close eye on these youngsters. They think they can get away with anything. And they will, unless someone scares them enough to behave.

They think they're smoooooth shit. Hi, I'm 23, I've been nothing but a bitch to you since you got here, AND I've told you to shut up or leave. And now you're hitting on me...you're a winner.

To them, things like "Pussy Pleasers" or "Ball Separators" require rolling laughter. Not only did I tell them to be quiet, they told ME to be quiet. Maternal instincts in tact, I threatened to pull them out of the store by their ears. They reminded me that doing so would be considered harassment. Well aren't you just so smart?

Personal space is not an idea they've wrapped their heads around.

Farting and belching are awarded with high fives.

Asking me personal information is sacred. Well the information is, if I give it to you.

In short, I didn't kick these kids out because my paying customers had left, and they were the only ones left. Had there been anyone else, their asses would have been on the pavement. They also bought "Thick," which is a penis-thickening cream. So not only are they annoying, they have needle dicks.

They'll grow up some day.


Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice