Customer: [pointing at the T-shirts hanging along the back wall] “Oooh! I love those! Did you make them?”
Me: “I’m afraid I didn’t.”
Customer: [reading them off] “‘Chubby and Hard to Kidnap’… ha! ‘Resting Itch Face’… ha! ‘Free Protein Shake’… OH, MY GOD.”
Me: “Everything okay?”
Customer: “So a couple of years ago, I was at a Chinese restaurant, and this other diner had the audacity — he had the audacity — to wear a shirt with an arrow pointing down, like on your ‘Free Protein Shake’ shirt. Except his shirt said, ‘Women and Children First.”
Me: “Christ. That’s really awful.”
Customer: “I know! It’s been engraved on my brain ever since.”
Me: “That is… also not good.”
At this point, his partner ambled up to the counter and was all, “Please explain in graphic detail how to properly employ every manhood-related adornment in this establishment, so that I can thoughtfully compare them one by one before settling on a $2 cock ring,” (I’m paraphrasing), and then this guy came back in to let me know that his calf fries had shrunk even further, and to ask if a ball stretcher would help them grow back (it would not).
Hey, you know who else gets paid to deal with testes all damn day? Doctors and fluffers. Although we differ in that I end up needing to wash my hands a lot more often than they do.