Tuesday, November 25, 2008

No shit, there it was

One of the more entertaining aspects of this job are when customers want to play "Once Upon a Time" with me. To put it in a less whimsical fashion, these would be the rather common occasions when someone, usually a patron I have never laid eyes on before, informs me of some mythical service, product, or staff member they encountered at the store at some nebulous point in the past.

It can be truly stunning the fabrications they will spin out given the least provocation. I have heard detailed accounts of staff that I have never once met. The people telling me of this chimera are adamant in their anecdote, despite the fact I was the first person hired on here by the owner and as such have been present through the entire span of staffing. In the cases where the customer is truly exerting themselves to prove to me that Paul Bunyan/Superman/Ghandi or Stalin/Baba Yagga/Mr. Sinister once graced the payroll here, I take decided glee in revealing some lurid reason why they are no longer here. To hear me tell it, to work here paints a giant bullseye upon you where you are certain to succumb to some ghastly freak accident or unmentionable crime. The look of shock on their face or assumption of greenish pallor is all the thanks I require for my efforts.

Most recently I have had to smile and nod through a complex description of a sexual novelty that I don't think modern science could model without quantum theory. And yet, this guy assures me he'd once bought one in the seventies for about ten bucks. In case readers may think I am being overly harsh, this miracle toy vibrated, sucked, licked, and felt on the inside "exactly like a mouth". It was more lifelike than cyberskin or related materials too. And off this was confined to a total size not much larger than a juice concentrate package. The final touch was his vow that he'd been in a week or so back and we'd had one.

I wish. We'd make a bloody mint.

We get some of the best phantom merchandise ever.

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