Giggling and loud voices greeted me after kicking open the door to the kitchen. One of the girls mentioned how they were eating Nerds, a semi-sour coated sugar candy, and that some had been emptied down her shirt. I wanted no part of that business and attempted to head right back out into the bar area.
Before running out, I moved in the other direction to pick up a damp cloth. When I turned back around, BAM. Her one hand was grabbing the middle of my shirt, her other was pouring a box of bright pink pebbles down my cleavage. Not amused. I tugged and pulled at my clothing as a cascade of sweets fell the floor. The kitchen staff was confused as I dug around in my bra (they missed the part when the box was emptied into the shirt), but didn’t seem to mind the show. In the process of clearing all the candy some fell to places other than the floor, lost a couple somewhere in my shorts, and a few elsewhere. It was kind of like the crawling feeling you get and frantically brush the area to see nothing there, but 5 minutes later there’s actually an insect where the creepy feeling had been. After digging the second Nerd out of my bellybutton (an innie), all I did the rest of the shift was shake, shimmy, and rearrange to make sure there were no other stranglers left out of my literal shakedown.
I definitely wasn’t laughing when I pulled a third Nerd out of my navel over an hour later. Gross.
Commentary from ‘Buster’s Santo
People feel comfortable with me, like they know me, like they can say anything they want. This includes commenting on my purchases, or in this case, on my rentals.
A few weeks ago I walked into my neighborhood Blockbuster to rent Watchmen and He’s Just Not That Into You. Figured two movies would be more than enough and walked to the register with my movie picks. The guy scanning the rentals commented on how great Watchmen is, but warned me that I shouldn’t expect a happy ending or typical heroes. It was amusing that he didn’t offer any insights on my other rental. He totally ignored it, not surprising. What do you say to someone renting He’s Just No That Into You? “Oh, Watchmen, cool movie…and oh…are you trying to figure out if he’s into you?” If he wants a repeat customer, probably not.
He continued on the Watchmen note by asking if I’m into graphic novels or video games. To his amazement I responded, “Not so much into graphic novels, but I do enjoy video games.”
“Really!? Oh, okay. Well, have you played Call of Duty?!”
“No.” I hesitated before continuing, but went on anyway, “It’s like Barbies for boys. Too many options. I find it overstimulating.”
“Hmm…” I don’t think he liked what I said and moved past it quickly, “Which consoles do you have?”
“Only a DS, but I borrow consoles from my buddies depending on which game I want to play.”
“Which games do you like?”
“Pretty much anything, but I really enjoy God of War and can’t wait for the third one to come out.”
“I thought it already came out.”
“Nope, there was a prequel on the PSP, but the third one should come out on the PS3 pretty soon.”
He checked the computer, “Yeah, you’re right.”
After some more game talk/nerdy flirting, I headed out. Surprised me a little with the inquisitiveness, but nothing crossing the line or getting too personal.
Today’s conversation was a little different, more invasive, less nerdy, and lots of assumptions with emphasis on “ass”.
I walked in looking for two specific foreign movies, Romance and Intimacy. The same Nosey Parker (one of the Malaysian’s favorite terms) happened to be behind the counter. His back was turned while helping another customer. A few moments later he saw me waiting.
“Hi, ma’am. Can I help you find something?”
“Hi, yeah…I just wanted to see if y’all had two movies in stock.”
“What are they?”
“Do y’all have Intimacy or Romance?
“Intimacy or Romance?”
“Yes.”
“Feeling kinda down today, huh?
“Ha. No. Not quite.” Oh, just wait. I thought that was a kicker, but it gets better.
He continued typing on the computer, double-checked his spelling, then walked back over to me and says, “Sorry, we don’t have it.”
“You don’t have either one?”
And the kicker, “No, but we do sell chocolate.”
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