True Porn Clerk Stories - Ali Davis [10]
He got to the store before the second clerk did.
He went racing right downstairs, which wasn't that unusual -- Saturday morning porn renters all but throw themselves down the stairs.
He got back up behind two other renters, who made the mistake of breaking their pace to get their tags together before hitting the register. He ran around the side and cut in front of them. The three of us not-freaks exchanged looks for a second. I almost made him wait, but then realized we all just wanted him out of there. No time for thought (or, indeed, basic courtesy) though.
"It was here!" he crowed, "I'm the one who called!" His precious DVD was in, as were two others. I took a look at him as I pulled up his account and checked his ID. He looked like he was either a hotel desk manager or a flight attendant. He had just missed pilot. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white stripe at the wrists. He had what looked like airline wings on his chest, as well as what may have been a small brass nametag and some sort of Masonic or fraternal pin.
He caught me trying to figure it out as I checked him out. "No, I don't fly for the airlines," he said proudly. (Because I am a good clerk, I refrained from saying "Of course not. You're dressed like a flight attendant,") "I just have a thing for uniforms," he went on, loud enough for the whole line to hear, "I'm trying to pick someone up this morning!"
And with that, he and his homemade uniform were gone.
There's a New Porn Freak in Town
We have a new visitor to the porn section. He's been in twice now. Actually, he's been in at least three times, as he is a registered member, but he's only stood out twice.
He comes in, goes down to the straight porn section, and whips out a hand mirror. Then he applies makeup for about an hour.
Seriously.
No browsing, no chatting people up, no whacking. In, mirror, makeup and out. And again, he's in the straight section.
No one's sure what to do yet.
The last time he was in, two clerks went down to ask him a) what was up and b) to leave. He pointed out that he was a registered member, and that he wasn't stealing, whacking off, or bothering anyone. Since he wasn't hurting anyone, why did he have to leave?
Nobody's thought of an answer yet, and we're not really sure we want to toss him for loitering. He is, after all, just putting on makeup.
But why in our porn section? It has such harsh fluorescent lighting.
I'm sure we'll find out eventually. I can't wait.
Guttermouth
I'm having another existential video store crisis. I have them every now and then, but this one is biggish -- this Friday will be my one-year anniversary at the store. It isn't the worst job in the world. It's helped me plow through some difficult financial times, they're terrific about letting me take off for an audition, and they have twice let me take a full month off to go do a show. The pay sucks, but there's no dress code and you can't beat the flexibility.
But still, holy fuck. I know it is exactly a year this Friday because I started the job (a year ago -- have I mentioned this was a year ago?) precisely one week before my thirtieth birthday. Talk about your existential crises. That one was enormous, and it came on in a single moment: I was putting away porn tags, when suddenly I looked up and came face-to-face with the box for Fuck Pigs 5. I can still see the box. There was, of course, a woman on it, offering up her orifices for the pleasure of anyone who wanted a look. She seemed friendly, almost shy. And she was being called a fuck pig.
"Good Lord," I thought, "What happened to me? I'm about to turn 30 and I'm on my knees in a basement restocking incredibly degrading porn."
This time around I will be about to turn 31 and I will be on my knees in a basement stocking incredibly degrading porn. At least I can laugh about it. Sometimes I have to pull my lips into a rictus grin, peel my tongue off the roof of my mouth, and punch myself in the