Sex is depressing

Or such was the conclusion I gathered from a gentleman that drifted through my store not long ago.

The man could hardly have been presented more of a study in woe if he'd been rendered as a weeping clown upon black velvet. His aspect was just as thread-bare, worn around the edges, frail as one would expect of such a painting at some retirement home estate sale. This is not to say he was badly dressed or unkempt, he just appeared to be worn down by life in general. In my mind's eye, he was just short of being translucent, a ghost although he still drew breath.

He just seemed to drift by and as he started to circle back in the other direction I asked if I could help him find what he was looking for. He mumbled something quietly. I asked for clarification as I had not understood him and his behavior led me to believe he was perhaps shy. He did repeat himself however in a more audible volume, thanking me for asking, but did not require any assistance at that time.

Here it could have ended and the entire occasion of his visit to the store would have just drifted from my mind with the normal flow of customers passing through the store. However, my notice of him seemed to open some variety of confidence within and he began to ask me questions. His queries smacked of the unusual. It had much the same impression within my mind as if someone had offered a handshake only to discover their grip slightly feverish and clammy so that one could swear some unhealthy residue clung to your palm for minutes afterward.

He wanted to know if we submitted our security tapes to the police on a daily basis.

The paranoia inherent in such a question was so thick I could only dead-pan my own question asking why we would do that. Incredibly, he was being serious. He honestly wanted to know. This of course immediately threw my own sense of paranoia into high gear. What motive would this guy have in quizzing me about our security protocols? Was I being ineptly cased?

I assured him that we do not dump our video footage to the police. The surveillance is our own for our own purposes. It is no business who patronizes this establishment unless/until we make a specific complaint.

He responded that cameras were so pervasive these days that one really had to wonder anymore.

On one hand, it is quite disturbing how accepted it is within the United States to be tracked and observed as a matter of course. What's a little privacy when this allows you to be safer. Of course there's no way to prove one honestly is safer, the only thing guaranteed is that you've lost some of your self-liberty. Who really wants to get their sex on when there are chances the feds are taking notes on what gets you off, what your technique is, etc.?
On the other, it is quite disturbing how shocked he was when I informed him our camera footage was not turned over to law enforcement agencies on a routine basis. He even seemed slightly apprehensive about it. What the hell has broken within this poor sod that he takes for granted such scrutiny?!

As such, he wanted to know why it was we had cameras if not to feed a police data-base with the sexual inclinations of our customer base. He was horribly shocked when I informed him it was to assist us in the event of shoplifting and/or more blatant theft. Several times he exclaimed disbelief. He asked repeatedly no one in particular if they knew they'd be placed behind bars for such behaviors. I had to explain to him that yes indeed, people steal from stores. I thought he was going to start crying. He acted as though humanity no longer conducted themselves in such a rude manner. He kept asking how these people could do such things. When I told him that they generally don't care or think they'll somehow get away with it, he did start to shed tears.

He looked rather shell-shocked as he headed toward the door, but he did leave me with a final statement. Continuing the stunned motif he uttered, "I know people do it, but this..." He trailed off with a gesture taking in the store. Then he left.

Granted his final remark was so far into the realm of unacceptable within the store that I was ready to leap over the counter and kick him into the next time zone; one simply does not get to pass summary judgment over everyone else who might patronize an adult store, let alone like a disappointed missionary in the middle of some remote tribe "who just don't know any better." But he just stuck in my mind as some horrible aberration. What sort of mental defect could so affect a man easily within his forties that he'd present such symptomology? What could have given rise to such a sheltered, naive worldview woven through with an Orwellian sense of oversight?

Nightmares have been crafted of less.