Finding the Perfect (Plastic) Mate

For a couple summers and a holiday season, I worked at a Spencer’s Gifts, selling everything from fake dog poop and baby clothes, to pimp cups and glow in the dark “personal massagers.” “Personal massager” of course being the politically correct term for a vibrator.

We also sold blow up dolls that looked like Miley Cyrus, and Snooki.

Now, the blow up dolls we sold were intended as gag gifts, more for bachelor parties and wild Friday night frat parties, and not passionate lovemaking. Unfortunately, the Indian gentleman who walked into my store one night was not aware of that.

Speaking little to no English, the gentleman walked up to my coworker and me and asks, “You sell sex?” My coworker and I exchanged puzzled looks. “Excuse me?” was all I could honestly muster as a reply.

“I want sex.” With my coworker and I still looking puzzled, the gentleman tried harder to get his point across. “Sex! Sex! I want sex!” This time, however, in order to emphasize his apparent desire for pleasure and satisfaction, he started using obscene hand motions, I guess in recognition of the confusion and shock on our faces.

“Sir, this isn’t a brothel,” was all my co-worker could say to speak the obvious, but the gentleman wasn’t getting it. I told the guy to follow me, and brought him downstairs to the section of the store that makes Spencer’s unfriendly with nuns and police officers. Most of the products we sold though, were intended for women, so unfortunately for him, all I could show him was this hand held silicon mouth looking thing that made me laugh to myself every time I rung one up. “It’s a gag gift,” people would tell me. Right.

Unfortunately for me though, that was not what he was looking for.

“No, no, I want girl!” Apparently someone gave him the wrong idea when it came to Spencer’s line of adult products.

So, I showed him the girls. I showed him Miley, Fergie, Snookie, J-Lo, Lady GaGa, and even the midget and the fat chick. Finally, his curiosity perked up as he examined the box for Snookie. “But sir,” I tried to explain, “these are gag gifts. You know, ‘ha ha?’ It’ll hurt if you use it for…you know.” But apparently we were both utterly lost in translation.

“I buy,” he said.

“But sir…”

“I buy!” The customer’s always right. Right? So I rung him up, tried to sell him lube, and then laughed with my co-worker after he left the store.

Then the next day, he comes back, and tries to return Snookie, who is literally bursting out of the box. That was when my amusement turned into utter disbelief.  Of course we wouldn’t let him return it, knowing full well what he must’ve done with the poor gal the night before.  So he buys the fat chick.

And the next day, he tries to return her. I guess love really is hard to find. And I swore I  thought both Punk’d and Candid Camera weren’t on TV anymore