Of things. And stuff.
Hey, all. Long time lurker, etc. etc. Finally getting up the courage to post in here.
I am a manager at an *ahem* 'adult novelty' store, part of a local chain with stores mostly in North Texas. Our company has received national acclaim for how awesomely knowledgeable the employees are, as well as how we go out of the way to make our stores feel more like classy little boutiques than your typical 'adult' store. Our latest ad campaign advises our customers to be kind, stop vegetable abuse. Perhaps you might have heard of us.
Let me pause, before I confuse anyone reading. Texas is...special with its laws, and even moreso with some of its cities' ordinances. Due to a combination of the physical locations of some of our stores (in relation to churches, schools, etc.), the recent changes in state laws over the last few years, and the fact that our owner does not want us to be labelled as sex-industry workers (told you the laws here are messed), we do not sell 'sex toys.' That is not a dildo, it is a 'cake topper.' Once you have purchased it and are outside of my store, I don't care if you strap it to your forehead and call yourself a unicorn, but in here, it is what I say it is. That is not a vibrator, that is a 'massager.' You massage with it. Where? I don't give two flips, once you get home with it. But inside these four walls, customers must abide to my silly, silly terminology. :)
At any rate, I've been working here for many years plus, so you can expect some crazy things to come hence. For now, though, I just have one thing to kvetch about. Something that really has nothing to do with -where- I work in particular, but that doesn't take the Suck out of it.
PREWARNING: I already know before typing this that there is a distinct possibility that some people are going to say this is not the fault of any customer, but I understand that this is your viewpoint and not my own, and I will not attempt to change how you believe. I'm afraid that this is...likely going to be a controversial thing, and so mods, please tell me if I am out of line. I'm just here, though, to vent like the rest of you. That said, here we are.
Let's not mince words. I'll put this straight up front under the cut so you don't have to read any further if this will throw you off. You see, I have super-happy-funtime messed up chromosomes, and, if you wish to be incredibly blunt (which, unfortunately, is still the simplest way of putting things without meandering, off-topic forays into my medical history), it could be said that I "didn't always use to be" a man. However, my physical brain structure says otherwise, and so I live the way I am meant to be. That is, as a man. Society is not kind to this.
I realize that I am not the most masculine, musclebourne, manly-man to ever man, and frankly, I hope I never get to be. I am comfortable with how I look, with my mannerisms, and with my style of dress - I'm in dress slacks and a polo when I'm at work, natch, which makes it all the more a spectacle when I catch someone with their eyes not-so-subtly latched onto my person. It does not give customers free reign to stare at my chest (presumably looking for breasts), try to steal glances at my crotch, grab at me, or otherwise poke and prod at various body locations to try and discern my gender. And yet, it keeps happening.
Yes, I know I have a boyish face. Yes, I know that if I had facial hair, I probably wouldn't get this runaround all the time. But my Shorter Half(tm) likes me clean-shaven, and facial hair itches somewhat awful, so I am more than happy to oblige her. Not that it matters to a customer, and not that I should ever have to explain my personal affairs to them, but I seem to end up having to almost daily.
I am aware that my voice is a little bit higher than other voices you may have heard. So? I have spoken to men with voices higher than the highest falsetto I could ever eek out. One of them is a regular customer at my store. I kindly refrain from calling him ma'am. It is apparently too much to ask the same of my own customers.
Yes, my hair is longer than that of some men you might meet, and especially in some of the more conservative locations our stores exist; but, once again, the other half loves it, it doesn't bother me an inch to keep it styled long, and so, whatever. I know it is soft, because I take obsessively good care of it. This does not make it suddenly okay for random fingers to be snatching at the ends of it. I don't care if people think it makes me look emo, as that's their prerogative, but I will not stand by and let them make such derogatory statements as "You freaky queers" or "What are you, some sort of faggot?" That earns precious little more than being ushered to the exit with an open invitation to never return.
(An aside: Our company is incredibly tolerant, and due to that, the vast majority of our employees are some variety of GLBT. Our corporate office, up to our very owner, will back us up if you call to complain about it, because we document incidents like this for a reason - and verbal abuse is still verbal abuse, regardless of who we as a company choose to employ related to who they love.)
When someone asks my name, and I give it, that is not the point at which they should blanch, eyes bugged-out,and speed wordlessly towards the front door. If I had a nickel for every time this has happened, honestly. Also, it is not the cue to start arguing with me. I am fairly certain that I know my own name and gender by this point.
Stop saying ma'am after I have pointedly reaffirmed that I am, indeed, a sir. Stop it. It's not a joke, and it's not funny. Repeating it does not make it any more true.
Do not tell me that I am 'too cute' to be a man. Do not tell me that I'm having a joke and to cough up my real name. Most importantly, once you finally seem to accept that I am not a woman, do NOT tell me how impossible it is that 'someone like me' could want to be married, how I couldn't possibly want to go after the finer sex as clearly I am simply too embarrassed to admit that I really have a boyfriend, and that the whole part where I have an amazing, wonderful, loving fiancée - who would already be my amazing, wonderful, loving wife were it not for the monetary constraints - is a mere fabrication. I mean, we're wearing promise bands and everything. And really? Don't try to bring other customers into the fray and make them choose sides. That right there is beyond absurd, not to mention obnoxious, bordering on purposeful cruelty, and just plain rude. That is so ridiculous that is has ascended beyond this mortal plane and evolved into being ricockulous. That last bit alone is something that, when my own manager questioned me about said altercation, caused me to tear up a bit when I recalled the words spoken to me. And I like to believe that I'm no pushover.
It would be different if this was a 'once in a while' kind of thing. If this was not multiple offenses from the same customer all in one setting, or if it wasn't some of our regulars (who are literally in my store every single day of the week) who refuse to listen to anything my manager or I say on the subject. I can understand an honest mistake, as I have made plenty myself, and I apologize and move along. But persisting for whatever reason, be it thinking you're humorous, being an ass, or simply refusing to accept what is on the plate in front of their faces, that...is a horse of an entirely different color.
RATHER, life would simply be easier for all parties involved if customers would just take me at face value when I say hello, my name is Lucas, and then put on my little how-can-I-help-you-today song and dance. Because really, that's what I am here for - not to be called a freak, not to be yelled at and argued over, and certainly not to be belittled for what society as a whole seems to think a person should and should not look like.
TEAL DEER: People are asshats about things so measly in the grand scheme of things as personal appearance that should have no real bearing on their shopping experience at our stores. In so many words, son I are dissapoint.
ETA: Pictures in the comments, in case anyone else was curious.
I am a manager at an *ahem* 'adult novelty' store, part of a local chain with stores mostly in North Texas. Our company has received national acclaim for how awesomely knowledgeable the employees are, as well as how we go out of the way to make our stores feel more like classy little boutiques than your typical 'adult' store. Our latest ad campaign advises our customers to be kind, stop vegetable abuse. Perhaps you might have heard of us.
Let me pause, before I confuse anyone reading. Texas is...special with its laws, and even moreso with some of its cities' ordinances. Due to a combination of the physical locations of some of our stores (in relation to churches, schools, etc.), the recent changes in state laws over the last few years, and the fact that our owner does not want us to be labelled as sex-industry workers (told you the laws here are messed), we do not sell 'sex toys.' That is not a dildo, it is a 'cake topper.' Once you have purchased it and are outside of my store, I don't care if you strap it to your forehead and call yourself a unicorn, but in here, it is what I say it is. That is not a vibrator, that is a 'massager.' You massage with it. Where? I don't give two flips, once you get home with it. But inside these four walls, customers must abide to my silly, silly terminology. :)
At any rate, I've been working here for many years plus, so you can expect some crazy things to come hence. For now, though, I just have one thing to kvetch about. Something that really has nothing to do with -where- I work in particular, but that doesn't take the Suck out of it.
PREWARNING: I already know before typing this that there is a distinct possibility that some people are going to say this is not the fault of any customer, but I understand that this is your viewpoint and not my own, and I will not attempt to change how you believe. I'm afraid that this is...likely going to be a controversial thing, and so mods, please tell me if I am out of line. I'm just here, though, to vent like the rest of you. That said, here we are.
Let's not mince words. I'll put this straight up front under the cut so you don't have to read any further if this will throw you off. You see, I have super-happy-funtime messed up chromosomes, and, if you wish to be incredibly blunt (which, unfortunately, is still the simplest way of putting things without meandering, off-topic forays into my medical history), it could be said that I "didn't always use to be" a man. However, my physical brain structure says otherwise, and so I live the way I am meant to be. That is, as a man. Society is not kind to this.
I realize that I am not the most masculine, musclebourne, manly-man to ever man, and frankly, I hope I never get to be. I am comfortable with how I look, with my mannerisms, and with my style of dress - I'm in dress slacks and a polo when I'm at work, natch, which makes it all the more a spectacle when I catch someone with their eyes not-so-subtly latched onto my person. It does not give customers free reign to stare at my chest (presumably looking for breasts), try to steal glances at my crotch, grab at me, or otherwise poke and prod at various body locations to try and discern my gender. And yet, it keeps happening.
Yes, I know I have a boyish face. Yes, I know that if I had facial hair, I probably wouldn't get this runaround all the time. But my Shorter Half(tm) likes me clean-shaven, and facial hair itches somewhat awful, so I am more than happy to oblige her. Not that it matters to a customer, and not that I should ever have to explain my personal affairs to them, but I seem to end up having to almost daily.
I am aware that my voice is a little bit higher than other voices you may have heard. So? I have spoken to men with voices higher than the highest falsetto I could ever eek out. One of them is a regular customer at my store. I kindly refrain from calling him ma'am. It is apparently too much to ask the same of my own customers.
Yes, my hair is longer than that of some men you might meet, and especially in some of the more conservative locations our stores exist; but, once again, the other half loves it, it doesn't bother me an inch to keep it styled long, and so, whatever. I know it is soft, because I take obsessively good care of it. This does not make it suddenly okay for random fingers to be snatching at the ends of it. I don't care if people think it makes me look emo, as that's their prerogative, but I will not stand by and let them make such derogatory statements as "You freaky queers" or "What are you, some sort of faggot?" That earns precious little more than being ushered to the exit with an open invitation to never return.
(An aside: Our company is incredibly tolerant, and due to that, the vast majority of our employees are some variety of GLBT. Our corporate office, up to our very owner, will back us up if you call to complain about it, because we document incidents like this for a reason - and verbal abuse is still verbal abuse, regardless of who we as a company choose to employ related to who they love.)
When someone asks my name, and I give it, that is not the point at which they should blanch, eyes bugged-out,and speed wordlessly towards the front door. If I had a nickel for every time this has happened, honestly. Also, it is not the cue to start arguing with me. I am fairly certain that I know my own name and gender by this point.
Stop saying ma'am after I have pointedly reaffirmed that I am, indeed, a sir. Stop it. It's not a joke, and it's not funny. Repeating it does not make it any more true.
Do not tell me that I am 'too cute' to be a man. Do not tell me that I'm having a joke and to cough up my real name. Most importantly, once you finally seem to accept that I am not a woman, do NOT tell me how impossible it is that 'someone like me' could want to be married, how I couldn't possibly want to go after the finer sex as clearly I am simply too embarrassed to admit that I really have a boyfriend, and that the whole part where I have an amazing, wonderful, loving fiancée - who would already be my amazing, wonderful, loving wife were it not for the monetary constraints - is a mere fabrication. I mean, we're wearing promise bands and everything. And really? Don't try to bring other customers into the fray and make them choose sides. That right there is beyond absurd, not to mention obnoxious, bordering on purposeful cruelty, and just plain rude. That is so ridiculous that is has ascended beyond this mortal plane and evolved into being ricockulous. That last bit alone is something that, when my own manager questioned me about said altercation, caused me to tear up a bit when I recalled the words spoken to me. And I like to believe that I'm no pushover.
It would be different if this was a 'once in a while' kind of thing. If this was not multiple offenses from the same customer all in one setting, or if it wasn't some of our regulars (who are literally in my store every single day of the week) who refuse to listen to anything my manager or I say on the subject. I can understand an honest mistake, as I have made plenty myself, and I apologize and move along. But persisting for whatever reason, be it thinking you're humorous, being an ass, or simply refusing to accept what is on the plate in front of their faces, that...is a horse of an entirely different color.
RATHER, life would simply be easier for all parties involved if customers would just take me at face value when I say hello, my name is Lucas, and then put on my little how-can-I-help-you-today song and dance. Because really, that's what I am here for - not to be called a freak, not to be yelled at and argued over, and certainly not to be belittled for what society as a whole seems to think a person should and should not look like.
TEAL DEER: People are asshats about things so measly in the grand scheme of things as personal appearance that should have no real bearing on their shopping experience at our stores. In so many words, son I are dissapoint.
ETA: Pictures in the comments, in case anyone else was curious.