Cock Block of the Walk

[Two customers enter the store with mischievous glints in their eyes.]

Customer 1: “WE’RE GONNA HAVE SEX IN HERE.”

Me: “Are you, now?”

Customer 1: “Nothing says we can’t have sex in here!”

Me: “Just me.”

Customer 1: “But the sign outside doesn’t mention the Forge…”

[Ed. Note: There’s a laminated sign by the front door of Ripcord that says, “No sex in the bar area, bathrooms, or on the patio. If caught, you will be asked to leave, period.”]

Customer 1: “… SO WE’RE ALLOWED TO HAVE SEX IN HERE.”

Me: [leaning over the counter and beaming like a bear trap] “You are welcome to try.”

Customer 1: “…”

Customer 2: [meekly] “I promise we’re not going to have sex in here.”

Time to make more signs for the register, I guess. I hope management is sympathetic when we run out of Post-its.

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You’re Going to Say I Should’ve Said What Everyone Else Said I Should’ve Said

Straight Girl: [pointing at a display of socks] “Socks.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Straight Girl: “Socks.”

Me: “… Yes. Those are socks.”

Straight Girl: “How much are they?”

Me: “$6.99.”

Straight Girl: [grinning seductively] “And how much are they if I show you my boobs?”

Me: “$6.99.”

Straight Girl: “…”

And then I rolled my eyes and went to help other customers.

I told this story several times throughout the night, and while amused, everyone from the doorman to the bartender to the manager critiqued my response in exactly the same way.

Me: “… and then she was like, ‘And how much are they if I show you my boobs?’ And I was all, ‘$6.99.'”

Them: “You know what would’ve been funnier? If you told her $15.00.”

Me: “Damn it all to hell.”

The new rule at Ripcord is that if a heterosexual wanders into the Forge and gets mouthy, I am to send an emergency text to everybody on duty, so that they can come running and throw efficient shade for me. I sincerely appreciate the support, but it also kind of feels like I’m getting picked last for gay dodgeball.

It’s either in Leviticus or the Apocrypha. I forget which.

Customer: “How much are these jockstraps?”

Me: “The Nasty Pig jocks? Those are $59.”

Customer: “Hmm. I think my package is just about ready for one of those.”

[He starts vigorously thrusting his pelvis.]

Customer: “Because [thrust] I’ve [thrust] been [thrust] lifting [thrust] weights!’

Me: [impassive smile]

Customer: “…”

And then he busied himself out of the store. Had I the chance to do it again, I definitely would’ve started doing the Time Warp and shouting, “GROUP SEX GROUP SEX GROUP SEX” in time to his thrusts, but that would’ve probably gotten real awkward real quickly if he wasn’t familiar with the song and/or movie.

Then again, he’s the one walking into retail establishments and simulating sex in front of the staff. And like it says in the Bible, let he who is not enthusiastically fucking air cast the first stone. Or he who just bought the damn jock already. Something like that. I’ll have to look it up again.

Toy Story 5: The Revenge

Customer: “Do you sell single-use packets of lube?”

Me: “We don’t, but I do have free samples, if you’d like some.”

Customer: “I only need one.”

Me: “Okay. Well, here you go.” [I hand him a packet.]

Customer: “Thanks! It hurts.”

Me: “It… hurts?”

Customer: “Yeah. I bought a toy at this other shop…”

Me: “Oh.”

[beat]

Me: “Oh.”

Customer: “Yeah. They didn’t have any lube, but I went ahead and… listen, could I use your dressing room?”

Me: “With my blessing.”

He came out a couple of minutes later all, “Whew. Much better!” And then he smiled at me and left.

I tried to smile back, but, y’know. It hurts.

Bighting My Tongue

Straight Girl: [placing a bundle of bondage rope on the counter with a giggle] “I’d like to buy this, please.”

Me: “Okay. That’ll be $21.64.”

Straight Girl: “My boyfriend’s gonna be like, ‘What the heck?’ Ha!”

Me: “Ha. Yeah.”

Straight Girl: [eyes suddenly burning like coals] “AND I’M GONNA BE LIKE, ‘WHAT TIME IS IT NOW, BITCH?!'”

Me: “…”

Straight Girl: “Byeee!”

Long story short, I just found the spokesmodel for my upcoming #NotAllStraightGirls campaign. The Internet ain’t even ready for her.

‘Cause Everything Is Rent

Customer 1: “Huh. That was odd.”

Customer 2: “What happened?”

Customer 1: “This guy I met at JR’s last night just called and asked if I could loan him $20.”

Customer 2: “Seriously?”

Customer 1: “Yeah. He said he was on his way back to Dallas, but he accidentally left his wallet here. So he wants to borrow $20 for gas to get home.”

Customer 2: “That’s kind of weird.”

Customer 1: [to me] “What do you think?”

Me: “I mean, I don’t get paid to judge, but it does sound suspicious.”

Customer 1: “I agree. You’re very good-looking, by the way.”

Me: “Well, thank you.”

Customer 1: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Thomas.”

Customer 1: “May I hug you, Thomas?”

Me: “… Okay, sure.”

[He comes behind the counter and puts his arm around my shoulder.]

Customer 1: “You’re so cute. I like you.”

Me: [stage-whispering to Customer 2] He’s gonna loan me $20! I can feel it!

Customer 1: [letting go with a smile] “Touché.”

In conclusion, Customer 1 was polite and friendly, and I sincerely appreciate how he asked before touching. 10/10, would definitely interact with him again.

I was kind of banking on that twenty, though.

Drilled

Boss: “Hey, look who’s back! How did the periodontist appointment go? How do you feel?”

Me: “I feel like I now have a pretty good idea of how long I could hold out during an interrogation.”

Everyone Else in the Staff Meeting: “…”

In retrospect, I probably should’ve just given a thumbs up and acted like my mouth was still numb.