mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's A Living ***This entry contains adult subject matter. Read at your own risk. I put myself through college by working as a manager of an erotic bakery/sex toy emporium in downtown Boston. It was an unusual job to be sure but seemed ever so much better than waitressing or retail. The money wasn't bad and I was paid under the table so it didn't effect whatever financial rewards the academic world felt fit to give me. I didn't have to work late night shifts or lie to dopey sorority chicks about how cute a certain outfit made them look in order to get a commission. I even got to listen to whatever music I wished when working in the store which at that time counted as a major perk. But despite all those benefits, the job had major drawbacks. The store drew an eclectic clientele and by eclectic I really mean annoying. There were the silly college girls who came in to gawk at the vibrators with their friends. When you live in a college town, there is never a shortage of goofy, hormone charged girls who travel en masse giggling and blushing. These chicks would come and joke with one another about the merchandise. "Oh my gawd Tiffany! Check this out! I bet Chad from Alpha Omega is totally as big as the Super Dong!" More giggling would ensue and I'd regurgitate my lunch. Or there were the fellows who felt my mere presence in the store made me an expert on every product we sold. "Excuse me," they'd ask without a hint of embarrassment. "Does this penis enlarger really work?" Why yes sir, of course. Before I started using the Jeff Stroker Penis Improvement System I only had a vagina but now I'm hung like a horse. You should totally invest the $74.99 on this plastic tubing and pump. It will really change your life. Customers felt free to pick any item in the store and ask how it worked and acted as if I were being a total jerk when I referred them to the instructions listed on the back of the packaging. Wednesday was the worst for me. It was the day we carved and polished the chocolate lollipops. You see, the shop sold a wide array of anatomical chocolates. We'd pour hot chocolate in molds, wait for it to solidify, and then carefully remove the excess chocolate with a knife. The process was finished off by a quick once over with a damp rag to shine the chocolate and then the pop was sealed in plastic and a bow was tied about the piece for that extra classy touch. Sadly, the polishing process was not completed in the privacy of our back room. We were short staffed so we multitasked by running the front of the house and polishing at the same time. You can imagine the kind of comments that my rubbing a chocolate penis with a cloth invited from those browsing in the shop. "Boy you sure get into your work, heh heh heh." "You certainly seem to know your way around that chocolate." And the most annoying "You sure must love your job." When the manager was watching, I'd laugh this banter off (because I had no other choice, I was supposed to keep things light and friendly and fun according to the big cheese) but the minute my boss was away, I'd strike back. After a particular lewd comment from customer about what I could polish for him, I bit directly into the chocolate I was working on in a most menacing way and spit the tip fifty feet across the room. That immediately put an end to his "flirting." There were other customers who still stand out in my mind. There was a kid who was maybe nineteen and clearly had mental problems. He slurred and fidgeted and mumbled but he visited the store every day in order to purchase a cupcake with a miniature vagina on it. It had to be a white chocolate vagina though. If we only had milk chocolate, he'd huff and puff and exit in a tizzy but if we had what he wanted he grinned ear to ear and stood in the shop gobbling the treat down. After several weeks of watching him, I began to feel sick. There was this creepy look in his eyes while he ate and I swear he drooled. I finally told him the health inspector had come by and told me that I was no longer allowed to have customers eat the edibles within the store because we didn't have a restaurant license. A sad lie but he bought it and went away never to be seen again. And then there was the professor from MIT. He taught some sort of specialized molecular science or so he said. He looked every bit the part. Small, with coke bottle glasses and stringy, greasy hair. He lurched rather than walked and avoided direct eye contact. He told me someone in his department was getting married and he wanted to get a blow up doll as a joke for the bachelor party. That would be hilarious right, he asked. I smiled and half heartedly agreed it would be a laugh riot. He looked at every model we had and asked about the features. Which one was the most realistic, was there a model with red hair, what were her dimensions, what about those ones that, you know, come with working parts. In the end, he selected a pretty expensive model with "touch me" skin and other features I won't get into and went on his way. A few days later he came back to buy lingerie for his girlfriend. Less than a week later he was back for a pair of edible undies, also for his girlfriend he told me. And then there was the unexplained purchase of handcuffs and a whip the following week. His last purchase from me was a vinyl patch kit - I imagine this was also for his girlfriend. 10:26 p.m. - 2003-06-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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