Porn Store Stories: Slow Night, Only One

A few years ago I worked at an “adult novelty store”. Craziest job ever. I used to mentally compose letters to my more colorful customers and write them in a blog after I got home. That blog is long gone; these are the stories that I still have.

Dear Flasher Wannabe,

 

Do NOT come out of the fitting room in that meshy thong thing. I am NOT here to tell you how you look in it. If I’m going to see your package, I don’t want to see it. Wait, did you just say, “I’d have thought you’d enjoy that aspect of the job”? First of all, checking out your junk isn’t an aspect of my job. Secondly, cocky much? You’re old enough to be my dad — at least — and out of shape. Why do you think you have anything I’d enjoy looking at?

 

Go ahead, leave in a huff… just leave. What’s that? I’m too shy for this job? Me not wanting to look at you wearing nothing but a band-aid made out of mesh is not me being shy. It’s just me not wanting to look at you wearing nothing but a band-aid made out of mesh. That is gross, so are you.

 

Signed,

Seriously Needs A Raise

 

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