Customer: [holding up a roll of bondage tape] “How well does this work?”
Me: “It works very well — it’s less adhesive than regular duct tape, so it holds, but it’s not painful to remove from skin.”
Customer: [disappointed] “Oh. Okay. So it wouldn’t be good for renovation projects around the house.”
Customer: “Like, I shouldn’t use it to mark off my floor before painting, huh?”
Me: “I… would suggest not.”
Okay, so let me say right now that I am not ashamed of any aspect of my life. I am a proud gay Pagan who wears leather and gets his kicks from spanking people, and if anyone has a problem with any of that, I will scream enlightenment into their face faster than you can say “Evangelical.” But for whatever reason, this customer wanting one of our products for a non-kinky purpose made me feel like the world’s biggest pervert. I don’t know why it hit me that way, but suddenly it was like I worked in a mundane hardware store and was actively soiling the innocent nature of home improvement:
“A hammer? Oh, no, sir. That’s not a hammer. That’s for shoving up your ass.”
I tried to let it go, you guys; I really did. But an hour later, another customer came in and pointed to a giant, metal ball-stretcher and was all, “I keep one of these on my desk as a paperweight!” At which point I fucking gave up.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my apartment, applying silicone lube to squeaky door hinges and turning jock pouches into tea cozies.