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

Rules of society don't apply

The following is a perfect example of how many people assume that, because you're in a sex shop, the rules of society no longer apply.
Rules such as: be polite, be curteous, shower, try to hide your huge erection, don't hit on the sales associate, think what your mother would say if she saw you like this...etc.

It's also an example of how someone who looks completely legit can actually turn out to be the biggest CMF on the planet.
Looks. They can deceive.

OK first of all, this night was insanely crazy. I was stuck in the worst traffic trying to get to work on time, and I arrived late. Perfect way to start a shift. So not only did I feel totally rushed as soon as I walked in the door, I was also starving and broke. I was not a happy camper.

First customer of my shift walked in at about 10 to 6.
He looked "normal" enough.
Short, with curly gray hair under a dirty baseball cap, dirty fingernails, and glasses. He had a black t-shirt tucked into his jeans and he was wearing a jean jacket. It was a denim nightmare, with a belt buckle.

I greeted him and asked if he had any questions or needed help finding anything. When he said no, like most customers do, I said, "well, just let me know if I can help you with anything."
"Anything?" he asked. Yeah, in that creepy voice.
He stopped walking. "well, I like some of this lingerie. For my friend. I don't know if it would look good on her though. Would you put some of it on for me?"
Um. Should I laugh?
I did my perfected "yeah right" scoff/giggle combination, the kind I use when an old man makes a joke with me. You know, to make them feel better. Or stop talking. Or stop creeping me out.
This guy did none of that. He just stared at me. Like he expected me to answer.
"Well?"
I wasn't sure if he was serious. "Obviously you know I can't do that."
"oh. No. I didn't know that. Why not?" He was actually confused, as if what he had asked me was completely legitimate.
I was beside myself at this point.
"Because that would be extremely inappropriate, and it would make me uncomfortable."
"Inapprioriate? Why? Isn't that your job?"
I didn't listen. Just kept talking.
"And I'd probably get fired. Oh, and I respect myself enough to know that I don't need to do that in order to get a compliment from an old man."

He continued staring. So I said, "So, um, if you have any questions about any of our products, feel free to ask."
"Well you said ANYTHING. I don't get it. But whatever."

So he went over to the glass case and I explained all the stuff that was in there. The topic of butt sex came up, because that's where we keep our stainless steel anal toys. "I was in prison for 15 years and never had to experience that. I'm too proud at this point to say I've never done it."
I looked at him with a "get a life" expression and said, "don't knock it till you try it."
Anyway, blah blah blah, more uncomfortable chatter, yadda yadda. He then tells me that he actually doesn't need any of this stuff because he's been single for 15 years.
"They make websites for that, you know," was my response. My bitchy, arms-folded, snotty teenage cheerleader response. If I had been chewing gum, I would have blown a bubble.
"I ain't about to go chasing women. Seems all the women I chase end up putting me in prison."
I wanted to say, 'well maybe you shouldn't do things that they'll send you to prison for.' but I resisted. Unfortunately.
Then I heard him mumble something that filled me with rage.
"Women...they have too many rights in this country."
This is when I started shooting lasers out of my eyes. I could feel my face getting red. I wanted to yell, "THEN GO SOMEHWERE WHERE WOMEN HAVE NO RIGHTS! SEE HOW THAT WORKS OUT FOR YOU! I'M SURE SAUDI ARABIA WOULD LOVE TO HAVE YOU!!!"
Luckily for both of us, the phone rang.

I've never been able to say this before but...saved by the bell.



Keep your batteries charged! ~Alice