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Creepy Old Men
If you know me, you know that I have not yet reached that level where I can support myself by being a critic. My reviewing doesn't pay the bills which means I get to rely on a day job to get me by. Now, to know this also means that you know that I work retail during the day which can be a nightmare sometimes but thanks to the low traffic of the shop, I'm able to avoid those nightmare moments more often than not. One nightmare moment that seems to recur here though are creepy old men. I am quite obviously male. I admit that my long hair (my hair just reaches past my ass) and slender build might fool some people if you're seeing me from behind or in the dark (yes, that has happened) but for the most part I don't mind that mistakes. It's rare that it happens and when it does, it's not like it's their fault. It just comes with the territory... but to see me head on, face to face, close up, it's obvious that I'm a man. I've worked in this shop for about 10 months now, it's not the greatest job in the world but it works but there is one thing that drives me nuts. It started last summer actually with older man (I believe he was in his late 60's) who would come in and talk to me about my hair. And ask me questions about how soft it was and if I took care of it and he once noted my slender fingers with a subtle 'you have such nice hands' comments. Luckily he left after awhile and I haven't seen him but still, the experience stuck with me and I learned to pick up on hints a little more. There have been incidents since then but usually just single ones that are much easier to shrug off and move on from. One person in particular though... It started a few weeks ago when he came in and ever since he's been building up to it. He started with 'so what do you do after you leave here?' I told him that I worked at other jobs (which is true). A couple of weeks ago he asked me 'so, when you're done at your other jobs do you ever like to hit the bars?' No, I don't. Ever. (Also not much of a lie, I don't drink that much if ever and I rarely go out to a bar). Yesterday he finally moved in for the kill, 'So, you don't hit the bars but do you ever just have a drink?' No, not usually. I don't really like to drink. 'Well that's a shame since I really wanted to buy you a drink sometime.' Ug! Unfortunately there's not much that can be done about it. My boss has told me repeatedly that she'll deal with the creepy old guys for me. Just once I'd love it if a nice redhead came in here and offered to buy me a drink. I think I could develop a taste for alcohol right quick then. Creepy old guys should be covered in hazard pay.
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Contributor's Note
The dark side of retail: creepy old men.
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May, 2012
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