But they are out of BBQ flavoured

Just put BBQ sauce on them.

Quote from: Dissident on 22-12-2008, 11:24:21 AM

Oh and if this gets pinned it's a crime against humanity.

??? CONFUSED ???

Who doesn't love a good crime against humanity once in a while?

A+++ TOPIC

SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE MADE FUN OF

Retail jobs have a lot of things in common, one of them is shoplifting.  Of course, like most aspects of an adult bookstore, when it happens there, it's still worth noting for purposes of humor.

May favorite example of shoplifting happened one day when it was just me and the manager working.  We were deep into this conversation about our favorite bands (mine at the time was TMBG and his was ICP), when we noticed this Puerto Rican kid browsing the shelves.  My manager goes, "Z, did you ID him?"

"No," I said, "I was talking to you this whole time."  Duh.

I go over to the kid and ask him for his ID.  He doesn't look a day over 16.  "May I see your ID?" I ask, pointing at the sign above the door that says "MUST PRESENT ID".

"They let me in at the other place," he says nonchalantly, indicating that he'd been to the poo pooty little store up the street.

"Then you have your ID," I said, "So show it to me."

The kid frowns and turns to leave.  When he gets through the front door, the alarm goes off.  "Sir," I say, "I need you to come back in for a sec..."

The kid takes off like a shot.  My manager, who is about 350-400 pounds, LEAPS over the counter.  "Go out the back door!" he shouts, "Make sure he doesn't make it to the train tracks!"  He thunders through the front door, and I head for the back.

We had this enclosed parking garage in the rear, so people could shop discreetly without people seeing their car there.  The back door leads out into it.  I immediately see the kid, in the garage, unchaining his bicycle from a post.  The kid sees me and freaks, twisting the lock every which direction, trying to get it undone.

I get within 10 feet of him, and he decides that his porn is more important than his Schwinn, and turns to bolt out of the garage.  He collides with my manager almost immediately.  My manager grabs his arm with one arm, and his bike with the other.  "You ain't getting out of here until you give it back!" he shouts.

The kid, who I swear was crying at this point, is adamant.  "I didn't do NOTHING!"  He insists.  My manager looks over at me and goes, "Call the cops."

The kid flips out.  He reaches into his pants and pulls something out.  "HERE THEN TAKE IT!" he screams.  My manager lets him go, and we both approach the item he threw, as he makes his getaway.

It was a gay magazine that had been sitting on the shelf since the place opened.  Wrapped in plastic, the only thing visible was the very Aryan looking guy on the cover, wearing only a towel.

Stupid spics lol

I lol'd

man i wish my life was exciting and worth writing about

I AM NOT A PIECE OF MEAT

To some of you, it will come as no surprise that I'm a big, fat, hairy guy.  And while this may get the ladies all a-twitter, most guys would consider a hirsute lardass to be exactly the last thing they'd ever want to have sex with.  The guys that don't think this, used to all hang out at the store's in-house theater.   Which was weird, in retrospect, because we only ever showed straight-sex movies in it.

Obviously, in a store that sells artificial genitals, you have to expect some weirdos.  The thing that baffles is, it wasn't the weirdness itself which was creeping me out, but the sheer frequency of it.  I mean, an offensive amount, even.  To the point where I developed a three-layer defense to deal with these situations.

For the standard issue "shy admittance of attraction", there was Layer One: The Polite Work-In.  Goes like this:

CREEPY OLD GUY: "So, heh, if you don't mind me saying so, heh, you're not a bad looking guy.  Let's shake hands a lot."

ME: "Why, thanks for saying so!  My girlfriend tells me that all the time too.  You'd love her, she's a photographer."

CREEPY OLD GUY: "Oh, really... Heh, that is fascinating... You know, I do enjoy Ansel Adams.  Does your girlfriend also photograph landscapes?"

ME: "Why, yes, she does..." (continue backpedaling banter with the guy for about 60 seconds, until he awkwardly tries to shake my hand again and then leaves.)

This was a fair warning.  It meant that we could both go on like nothing ever happened, I could continue to sell him his goods, and everyone could go on their merry ways.

Of course, some of these guys are persistent.  They tend to be from the "don't knock it 'til you tried it" school of grossly mismatched homosex.  Not one of them is a day under 40.  These guys get Layer Two: The Stern Reminder Of Thy Station.  It helps that the island counter I stood behind made me about a foot taller than the customer.  Here's how that goes down:

CREEPIER OLD GUY: "So, uh, if you don't mind me saying so... you're not a bad looking guy.  Maybe we could uh... Hang out for coffee sometime, maybe when you get out of work?"

ME: "Thanks, but my girlfriend is meeting me for dinner after work.  You'd love her, she's a photographer."

CREEPIER OLD GUY: "Yeah?  You know, I do enjoy Ansel Adams.  Especially the lighthouses.  Powerful stuff.  Also, I'm into Maplethorpe.  So... (mack-mode eyes) would you say she's more like Adams... or Maplethorpe?"

ME: "Nope.  Just landscapes.  Here's your change, have a great day.  Sorry, can't chat, I have to get back to work." (continue doing crossword puzzle)

CREEPIER OLD GUY: "OK, well, thanks."

ME: (not looking up from paper) "Mmm-hmm.  Have a good one."

Most get the point by now.  One guy didn't, and got Layer Three: No Means No.  The previous examples are all based on this example, which is exactly how the conversation went:

SUPER CREEPY GREEK DUDE: (comes out of the theater, leans on the side counter, looking over my shoulder)  "Hey, neat, crossword puzzles, huh?  Bet you're really smart.  Hey, you ever go in the theater?"

ME: (eyes on crossword) "Only to mop up."

SUPER CREEPY GREEK GUY: "You know, you're not a bad looking guy.  You should come in the theater."

ME: (eyes intently on crossword)"Nah, I'm not really into porn movies.  My girlfriend and I like fine art.  You'd love her, she's a photographer."

SUPER CREEPY GREEK GUY: "Yeah?  Like Ansel Adams?  Y'know, lighthouses kind of look like dicks.  Big ones.  Or, uh, maybe Maplethorpe, huh?  Y'know?  Porn can be fine art.  C'mon.  It'll be fun.  I won't tell your girlfriend."

ME: "Yeah, except I have to watch the register.  Y'know, because I work here.  Go on without me, enjoy your show." (continue doing crossword puzzle)

SUPER CREEPY GREEK GUY: "Oh, c'mon.  I'll even give you $100 if you let me suck your-"

ME: "The last thing I want is a blowjob, and the last person I'd want it from is you.  Now go away.  You've got two cameras trained on you, complete with digital audio recording, and you just tried to solicit sex from a porn store clerk, whose godfather is a vice officer.  Just walk away now."

SUPER CREEPY GREEK GUY: "...a simple NO would have been fine."

ME: "Fine.  No.  Not now.  Not ever.  And Maplethorpe's a hack.  Go away." (crossword puzzle crossword puzzle)

SUPER CREEPY GREEK GUY: "...asshole." (exit stage right)

oh god I lol'd so hard at "lighthouses kind of look like dicks"

So as long as someone doesn't jump on you and start humping can they solicit you as long as they please?  I'm sure at some point I could break down your puny layers ^_~

So as long as someone doesn't jump on you and start humping can they solicit you as long as they please?  I'm sure at some point I could break down your puny layers ^_~

There's not enough Ruphynol in the world, Diss, I'm sorry.

At first it was just playful, now it's a CHALLENGE

you know, i honestly did not know who ansel adams was until this writing. i can walk away right now knowing both the tales of a porn store clerk and the name of a famous black and white photographer.

WHY HELLO THERE, MR. WIENER

One of my co-workers, who we'll call "Bob", was this weird hippie kid, who looked like The Dude from "The Big Lebowski" if he was played by Joe Pesci.  I mean, beard and all.  Decent guy, but had a real habit of doing stupid things and then wondering how he got himself into trouble.

The best example of this was the day we got scouted by the Toronto Swingers.

No, this isn't a sports team.  Since porn theaters are kind of the hotspots of the pervert social network, some theaters end up getting "scouted" for their ability to sustain a certain kind of sex culture.  Toronto has a fairly healthy swingers scene (that's when married guys trade their wives around) and there were rumors that they were looking for someplace south of the Canadian border, to expand their network and bring some fresh bodies into the mix.  This usually means one of the couples will go to a theater, hang out for a while, and see what sort of action they can get.

Our theater was frequented mostly by guys 50 and older, most of them unmarried, a fair amount of them trying to blow another guy.  Occasionally, someone would come in with a hooker.  Not really swinger-friendly territory, and we knew that.

So when the Toronto Swingers came in, asking if they could take a "free peek" at the theaters, we knew what was being implied - they were expecting us to give them a little taste, in the hopes that they would be interested enough to bring throngs of uninhibited swingers to our store.  Not only is this strictly against the rules, but we know damn well they aren't going to be interested in seven old farts sipping coffee and dreaming of dick.

So, I tell them we can't let them in, and then I follow it up with one of my jokes: "If you really are looking for a good deal though, we do offer a discount to strippers."  The joke here is that if a girl shows me her boobs, I'll give her 15% off her purchase - so any girl can be a "stripper".  I did this a lot, and it worked more often than you'd think.

The guy chuckles and sees I'm trying at least, and decides to continue with Plan A.  "Well, we aren't in the market.  But she'll show hers if you show yours."  The girl smiles and walks towards the counter willingly.

Now, as you may recall from a previous story, I know better than to whip my junk out in this particular store, for any reason.  I shake my head and say "No thanks."

This is where Bob comes in.  "Pussy," he says, and then I swear, the man literally leaps across the counter and has his lad out in about three seconds.

I didn't exactly see what was happening on my side of the counter, but I did see her hand drop below counter level, and Bob jumps a little, his eyes wide as saucers.  Her hand is down there for a while, complete silence, except for Mr. Swinger smiling and nodding, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

After about thirty seconds, Bob finally remembers that this was a two-part transaction, and awkwardly reaches for the strings holding the woman's top on.  The top falls off, and I get a look at two of the flattest, weirdest looking breasts I have ever seen.  It was like two half-cooked pancakes with shriveled pepperoni on them.  He tries to cup one, but gives up after two attempts, and settles for tweaking her nipple like a radio tuner.

The guy smiles and says "Hey, maybe the two of you want to go into the theater now?"  Both the girl and Bob awkwardly respond "no" after an uncomfortable silence.  She does her top back up and the duo leave.

After they exit, I ask Bob what she was doing.  "Dude, she just, grabbed it," he said, "It was like shaking hands or something.  She just grabbed it and started stroking."  After a brief pause, he throws in, "Her hand was cold."