When I was working at the sex shop we had this new manager brought in when I was a veteran. This woman- I cannot even begin to state how awful she was.
She used comic sans as her email signature. She misinformed customers about product. She failed to check in merchandise and deleted every single email she sent so the assistant manager could never tell what was going on.
It was common knowledge she had corporate connections to land the job because her level of incompetence was truly the worst I’ve ever seen in all my years of retail.
She was so wretched that the staff collectively wrote to the district manager, citing numerous examples of her incompetence. He sat us down for a useless meeting where he essentially told us we should give her a chance then later ate his words when she’d go on to make several extremely costly mistakes then quit abruptly to become a life coach.
So aside from how overtly terrible she was at her job, she was just… not the kind of person I was ever destined to get along with. She was very woo-woo, she loved talking about her chakras and energy and was just one of those white ladies. I’ve met witches I got along with great but her watered down aimless froufiness was like sandpaper on my brain.
Generally shifts with her passed in a stiff silence unless she was informing me at length of the magic energy of silver on womanhood. I flatly told her silver gives me a rash and she just looked scandalized that I was failing femaleness so much that our sacred metal had turned on me. Jokes on you, bitch, I’m nonbinary.
But one day she came in looking like a someone had died while me and two others were on shift. As much as we loathed her she seemed to be in such genuine distress that a coworker asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Well… my husband is an artist and we were looking for nude models…” Sure. That’s why you were looking at porn.
Our skepticism radiated outward but we nodded.
“We found…. We were looking at adult content and- oh it’s too awful to say.”
Folks, at that point in my life there were few things that would have phased me. I’d seen thumbtacks poured into a vagina. I’d seen a girl stretch her A cup titties out to a D cup length to caress a man’s face. I’d watched a man get fucked by a horse. There were few corners of the internet that had not wrought their psychic damage on me.
And she was working with us in the trenches of a sex shop so surely it must have been pretty bad. We pestered her relentlessly over the next hour. What had she seen? How bad could it have been? It must have been terrible and we had to know.
Finally, like a wilting flower she told us, trembling like a dewy maiden who’s just seen her first cock. “There was this woman…. And- it’s awful. But there was a dog! It- it humped her leg!”
The shock from all of us was palpable. Not that she’d found a video of a dog humping someone’s leg, but that it would illicit more than an brief acknowledgment before moving on.
“Was there… more?” I asked.
“Yes!”
The lady. The scandalously behumped lady. Sexily touched a horses shoulder. While nude!
We gave her flat stares and walked away leaving her baffled to longer be the center of attention. Didn’t we understand? She touched a horse!
