Before I worked at my current job, I worked at an adult store. I sold many creepy teenagers pocket pussys and eager housewives large dildos. Looking bad, it wasn’t that bad. It made for some great stories.
I graduated college and moved back home across country to work at a shitty grocery store as a shitty deli clerk in a dusty ass retirement community. Most of the customers are old. Some, very old. Which is fine… except the majority of people’s sphincters do not have the ability to hold in a fart anymore. While I was putting away a shopping kart, I was walking behind an old lady who coughed a little too hard. Yes, I indeed got inadvertently crop dusted. She quickly glanced behind her shoulder to see if anyone noticed. Having to pretend that I didn’t hear that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
These old folks also frequently come in to do their grocery shopping without having their daily nap. This means that some of them are very cranky. For instance, one particularly grumpy dumpy fuck paid me a visit at the deli counter. He asked for some salami (or so I heard). Now, it gets very noisy behind the counter because various equipment is usually being ran at the same time. I asked him if he said salami and the fucker got angry that I didn’t hear him. I’m sorry asshole, it’s not my fault that I can’t hear shit. So I proceed to clean off the slicer, since there were meat particles no one besides me bothers to fucking clean off the slicers after every use like we’re supposed to. Wiping down a slicer is a pain in the fucking ass. AND IT TAKES TIME. This impatient asshole then proceeds to angrily sigh loudly while i’m cleaning. I’m sorry, next time I wont bother to clean it thoroughly, so you get bits of 4 hour old dried corned beef and olive loaf all over your salami. In the end, he had the nerve to call me sweetheart when I was done helping him.
I would rather sell a butt plug ANY DAY than slice meat.