America's soft furry underbelly

I get all kinds of customers at the store. There are the usual customers, like the military, the college crowd, the businessmen on trips, the old guys–people you expect to be in a store like mine. People you look at and think to yourself, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Then there are the people you don’t expect. Like the older lady. The really clean cut guy. Or the extremely attractive young lady you had no idea was into this scene. Women always catch my attention when they walk in, mainly because our products are targeted towards young males. I’m more protective of our female customers. I do the best that I can to make them comfortable if they walk in by themselves. Make sure that they know where everything is, and that there’s a friendly face in the store that isn’t ogling her. Usually if a woman walks in–it’s because her boyfriend dragged her in. She’s rolling her eyes and I can tell that all she wants is to get out of the store.

I don’t blame her. Society doesn’t encourage young women to enjoy themselves in this way. If they do, and admit it–they’re considered outcasts. I think it’s a shame. I wouldn’t mind a girl who gets in a little “playtime” now and again. I think it’s kind of sexy.

I’ve never understood America’s conflict with pleasure and self-gratification. “Enjoy yourself–but make sure you feel guilty about it later.” It only makes it difficult for me to sell what I’m selling. Some people are ashamed to walk into my store.

People walk in, look around, act surprised–and then walk out as quickly as they came. As if they walked in on accident.

We’ve got a giant sign proclaiming what we sell. Windows filled with numerous sequels. There are boxes lining the walls, magazines in racks, and accessories laying around. Accessories of all different sizes, colors and brands–something for everybody. The other day, a customer walked out with four of the largest ones in the store, all different colors. I guess they had a lot of friends over.

There are televisions strategically located around the store. You can’t look around without seeing a teaser–no actual action of course, just a little something to get people excited and put their money on the counter. What’s popular now is girls playing beach volleyball. People can’t get enough of it. That trailer comes on and the whole store goes dead silent. I don’t have to do anything other than get it out from behind the counter.

I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, despite what the media says. I check identification and verify age. I do my job. Maybe parents should do theirs. Put blame where blame belongs. I make people happy. They purchase a product and go home and enjoy it. It’s not a bad job, although admittedly there are times when I wonder whether or not I should quit. Like the other day, this guy came into the store, stood in front of one of the televisions and just started playing with himself. It didn’t really bother me, but he’s got to buy something, at least.

I mean, we’re not giving these games away for free.

(Apologies to Tom Cheng–go! You read now!)