snap judgments

For the record, I try not to write about customers, no matter how off the wall they can get while working in ‘The Biz’.

But.

There’s the guy who comes into the store who just gives off the wrong vibes. He’s a creepy guy and working at a comic shop, you tend to get these guys. This one happens to want the adult books. Keep in mind, I have no problems selling these books and try my best not to make judgments on customers in general, no matter how much I think X-Force: Shatterstar blows goats. I am a-ok with the adult books. I’ve had people politely ask to see the books on the higher shelves then paciently wait at the front for me to go and get the adult books down frm their perch. I’ve had big burly dudes declare that they ‘wanna see the tittie books’ to me and I’ve dutifully gone and gotten them while they ask what’s new. There’s even the most adorable old man who got a good laugh out of asking me for an extra copy of ‘Dimples Down Below’ and we both got to giggle about it. But this guy…

He’s just… you know. Creepy. The ‘unwashed hair and beard, far too large glasses, long overcoat that’s buttoned up in the front, a little too quiet’ kind of creepy. His posture actually bends him forward by the crotch. He’ll enter the store, go to the corner in which we keep our adult books up on high shelves and stand there. And stand there. He’ll pace a bit, but he won’t make a noise or ask for help. He’ll just try and, I don’t know, telepathically broadcast to us that he wants to see the nudie books. He’s hard to miss, so I normally go over and just help him to get out of the store, and for my troubles I will be uncomfortably stared at as I go get a chair to boost my height and reach up to take the books down for him. I nknow that, as a 103lb. girl I have a higher ‘creep out’ factor than most, but he’s not friendly, he’s not cool, he’s not even polite. His $3.50 sale is not worth me going the extra mile for him.

One of the other employees is bound and determined to make him come up and ask for what he wants. The guy has hung around the shelves like a dog looking to go out the back door but won’t bark for fear of reprisal and we’ve just gone about our business. He’ll wander the aisles, getting a a yard or so from the counter at which I am standing and look at me, but not a word about what he wants. He’s done this for 45 minutes before the nerve leaves him and he leaves.

On one hand, I feel bad. I mean, who am I to try and discipline this guy or deny him his need for cartoon boobies? But at the same time, I don’t wanna go over there and get the creeps from him. I don’t get paid enough for that.

He’s peeking out at me from the shelves. I want to be able to blow a whistle, throw a flag and get him on a 20 yard penalty for being creepy. He stares at me. I stare back. He holds his arms out as if to say ‘Well?!?’ but refuses to say a word. I can’t take it.

“Do you need help with something, sir?”

“YES,” he yelps. I send the other guy to go help him. Guiiiiiilt.

Maybe he and I aren’t all that dissimilar.