Street of broken people

Hookers are stupid. I don’t know about the high-end call girls or escorts, they could have doctorates and the ability to have a deeply witty conversation across a half dozen languages for all I know. From a few well crafted, articulate blogs I’ve run across from women in those professions, I might even be willing to say they’re possibly the norm on that tier of the trade. Streetwalkers, on the other hand, routinely demonstrate the mental acuity of hammered hair.

One would think that someone conducting illegal business would possess some small degree of discretion, if not for the sake of continued customers, for themselves. Not bloody likely. Some will have loud disputes over what was paid for or what the total costs would be in the arcade booths. Some will share that charming interaction in the middle of the floor in front of the counter. Either way, they will go all round-eyed in protesting their innocence of all wrong-doing when I tell them they need to leave and not return. Others will get stopped when they saunter in without ID like we do with any other customer who might be underage, though it’s posted at the entrance that everyone entering the store must be able to provide it upon request, and out themselves in the process of attempting to argue why they don’t have their ID with them. I have witnessed them attempting to troll the arcade area for a quick score. I have seen them list rates to customers on the floor. I have watched them attempt to solicit from our parking lot. Every last one of them was indignant at being told to make themselves permanently scarce.

Further, they often exhibit the recall of a goldfish. Often it takes the reiteration that they’ve been banned from the property in perpetuity about three times before it sinks in. And yet, they still may attempt to sneak back in a few months later. I’ve even seen one chippy, who broke a store window in a fit of pique when we told her to clear out, attempt to wander in as if nothing had happened a few weeks later.

At times, you could almost sympathize with them. They have their lives outside of courting johns, a few have family. At times, they will slip into the store with fresh tears on their cheeks or worse, dark bruises or stitches. We’ve had infuriated pimps storm in with a terrified woman cringing in his wake demanding to know if she’d ever been in before only to come back in later in a blustering rage because she was no longer welcome to step onto the premises.

Of course, any display of sympathy or empathy will be capitalized upon as a weakness. Early on, most clerks new to such exposure to streetwalkers don’t want to be cold-hearted assholes. Retail is a customer directed profession, we often find ourselves oriented toward people leaving in a good mood, feeling like we understood and met their needs. Unfortunately, it’s a habit that always bites you on the ass in this case. About the third time a seemingly understanding and repentant girl becomes unexpectedly violent or abusive or treats that prior leniency as a free pass, they see the error of being merciful.

Isn’t it wonderful how being polite and civilized can be an Achilles heel? I think I need to read “Lord of the Flies” again.