Epic Retail Sagas, Part I

Here's a little-known fact about me: Back when I was in college, I used to work at a certain well-known discount apparel store.  I used to do their cash accounting on weekends, and when I got done with that I'd go up to the front of the store and run the return desk.  Sounds pretty normal, right?  


Wrong.

I've never seen so much crazy shit happen in all my life as I saw go down at this store.  From the creepy to the gross to the crazy to the profane, we literally had it all.  (Sounds like a great slogan, right there.)  While I worked there I was constantly telling stories to my friends and family, and they'd always say that I should write them down...  Well guess what?  I couldn't think of a good topic for this evening, so I decided to follow everyone's advice and relate one of my many crazy retail stories...  And since, for some reason, I'm feeling all artsy-fartsy this evening, I'm going to tell it in verse.  Yeah, that's right.  So, without further ado...


Once upon a time,
I worked in a store.
You'd think it would be quiet,
and sort of a bore. 

T'was a discount shop,
In a rich part of the city.
We had many shoppers,
And some of them were shitty.

They did things that were crazy,
And things that were gross,
But there was one certain old man,
Whom we hated the most.

He wore a straw hat,
With a look of composure.
And the shortest of shorts,
For indecent exposure.

He spoke in a whisper,
Perverted and throaty.
And we all called him "Truman,"
Because he looked like Capote.

He'd follow female shoppers around,
Up and down each aisle,
And try to look up their skirts,
With the sickest of smiles.

People would get angry,
And we'd get many a complaint.
But when we'd follow him,
He'd act like a saint.

At least, that is,
Until one summer day.
When he grabbed one shirt,
And headed the fitting room way.

He checked in politely with the girl
At the fitting-room door.
And there he remained,
For three hours or more.

He emerged looking happy,
His face glowed like the sun.
He handed the shirt to the girl,
And he told her "I'm done."

The way that he said it
Left her somewhat disturbed
As did the way he ran for the door...
Without another word.

The man was a pervert,
She began to suspect,
So she went into the stall he had used
To have a little check.

I still remember the scream.
It echoed through the store.
I ran back expecting
To find blood on the floor...

Now this man was not a thief,
Or a violent attacker.
But I'd have taken a dozen of either,
Over a fitting-room whacker.

He'd ruined the curtain,
That hung 'cross the stall door.
The details would make you quite ill
So I shouldn't say more.

Our manager had to clean it up-
He looked like he wanted to quit,
But nobody else got paid enough
To handle that shit.

He wrapped the curtain in plastic sacks,
And tossed it in the trash,
And said to me, "IF TRUMAN COMES BACK,"
"YOU F#^*ING KICK HIS ASS!!!"

Then back to his office,
Our poor manager did slink...
To ask corporate for a new curtain,
And probably have a drink.

And so I was surprised,
When he came back out in a hurry.
His steps were loud and angry,
His face clouded with fury.

He told me what happened,
And my faith in humanity was lost.
When we went out to the dumpster,
To find the curtain we had tossed.

You see, corporate is nasty...
Like a mean older brother.
They told him, "Wash the curtain!"
"Because we won't send you another!"

And so we took the sticky curtain
Back into the store...
And the manager opened
The petty cash drawer.

He reached on in,
And took out three hundred bucks,
Then he looked me in the eye,
And said "This really sucks..."

"...But take this thing to the dry cleaner,
The one that's close by...
Tell them to wash it as much,
As that money will buy."

The cleaners washed the curtain
In every possible way.
And it still hangs in that store,
To this very day.

We never saw Truman again,
Which was lucky for him.
His odds of survival,
Would've been rather grim.

But I'll tell you one thing,
And this is for certain:
In a discount store's fitting room...
DON'T TOUCH THE CURTAIN.

~fin

(P.S.  Some of y'all know exactly what store I'm talking about...  For the love of God, don't name it in the comments.  I don't want to get sued.  Gracias.)