LadyFunkenstein
Photoshopped
- Joined
- Jun 29, 2005
- Posts
- 33,342
I need to make some extra money, so I took a job as the evening/night assistant manager for a retail store.
They hired me on the spot because of my many assets:
1. I can count to ten without using my fingers.
2. I am *almost* as smart as a chimp. But I don't cross the human/chimp line, which would have made me over qualified.
3. I passed the criminal background check.
4. I have a pulse.
The general manager is fasting for Ramadan. He kept talking in Arabic on his cell phone. I suspect he is al Qaeda, and they are hatching a scheme to make bombs out of cheap leather jackets.
The other assistant manager "Rob" came in at five and worked with me until we closed at 9:30. I heard him before I saw him: his voice sounded like Edward Norton. I love Edward Norton. So when we shook hands, I leaned in to smell him. Naturally.
He faintly smelled of urine.
I watched Rob as he showed a woman a pair of fingerless gloves, helping her to try them on while her husband seemed bored. Rob looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. Like The Rock.
Once the couple left, he came over very excited. "Did you see that? Did you see it? I fondled her fingers in front of her husband! Right in front of him! Did you catch that?"
"Is this some kinda fetish or something? Finger fetish? I never heard of that," I asked, jokingly. He denied, of course. But for the rest of the night, he insisted that every female customer try on those damn gloves.
He got a free sandwich from Subway, from a buddy of his. He never ate it. "I like to let it get good and soggy. I'll eat it around midnight."
At the end of the night, we dropped off the cash receipts at the bank. We took my car, because he is "philosophically opposed" to driving. "Where can I drop you?" I asked.
"Just a couple of blocks, then pull over. "
I took him to his destination bid him farewell. "Nice to meet you too, Funkenstein.
Wait. I have a confession to make. You know that thing you said about the hands. You know, the fetish? Well, I don't have a hand fetish. I have a foot fetish. I just thought you'd want to know that." Then he got out of my car.
Which now smells faintly of urine.
They hired me on the spot because of my many assets:
1. I can count to ten without using my fingers.
2. I am *almost* as smart as a chimp. But I don't cross the human/chimp line, which would have made me over qualified.
3. I passed the criminal background check.
4. I have a pulse.
The general manager is fasting for Ramadan. He kept talking in Arabic on his cell phone. I suspect he is al Qaeda, and they are hatching a scheme to make bombs out of cheap leather jackets.
The other assistant manager "Rob" came in at five and worked with me until we closed at 9:30. I heard him before I saw him: his voice sounded like Edward Norton. I love Edward Norton. So when we shook hands, I leaned in to smell him. Naturally.
He faintly smelled of urine.
I watched Rob as he showed a woman a pair of fingerless gloves, helping her to try them on while her husband seemed bored. Rob looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. Like The Rock.
Once the couple left, he came over very excited. "Did you see that? Did you see it? I fondled her fingers in front of her husband! Right in front of him! Did you catch that?"
"Is this some kinda fetish or something? Finger fetish? I never heard of that," I asked, jokingly. He denied, of course. But for the rest of the night, he insisted that every female customer try on those damn gloves.
He got a free sandwich from Subway, from a buddy of his. He never ate it. "I like to let it get good and soggy. I'll eat it around midnight."
At the end of the night, we dropped off the cash receipts at the bank. We took my car, because he is "philosophically opposed" to driving. "Where can I drop you?" I asked.
"Just a couple of blocks, then pull over. "
I took him to his destination bid him farewell. "Nice to meet you too, Funkenstein.
Wait. I have a confession to make. You know that thing you said about the hands. You know, the fetish? Well, I don't have a hand fetish. I have a foot fetish. I just thought you'd want to know that." Then he got out of my car.
Which now smells faintly of urine.
