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Today at work a guy called and asked me if we sold boxers for little boys. I told him that I was pretty sure that we did and right away he launched into this whole thing about how he was a single father and he had a six year old son who was having a little trouble controlling his bladder and he wondered if switching him from briefs to boxers would make a difference. Not seeing how that would make a difference at all, I told him I didn't really know except that little boys' bladders often take a little longer to mature so what his son was going through was probably normal. Mystery guy felt the need to explain the situation further. He told me that his son only peed his pants when he was in trouble and got spanked. At this point my only thought was: if you're beating you're kid until he pisses his pants, you deserve to be shot. I didn't say this though and it only got worse. Mystery guy keeps going on and tells me that a year ago he was dating a woman who was obese and not so attractive and that when his son was spanked in front of her, he never peed. But now he's dating a woman who is "petite and pretty" and whenever his son is spanked in front of her, he pisses himself. And he asks me, is this normal? Mind you, all of this is taking place while I've got multiple people lined up on both sides of the desk waiting for me to help them. He kept pushing and pushing at me and I don't even remember what the hell I said but the guy was never saitisfied because the one thing that I refused to tell him was that his kid (who probably doesn't even exist) was hot for his mom. Eventually I just hung up on him and continued about my work completely fucking disgusted. I hate the world. Then about fifteen minutes later a mentally handicapped (is that the right term?) came up to the service desk because she needed help picking out pads. And I, of course, was the only person who could help her out without dying of embarrassment. So I spent about half an hour trying to explain the pros and cons of different types of pads to her, trying to find something that would fit her needs and that was under three dollars. And what the hell do I know about pads anyway? I'm a tampon-only sort of girl. And the woman was at least forty so this definitely wasn't her first period and I'm not sure what she's been doing for the past 25 years to cope with her menstrual cycle. But helping her out sort of reinforced my feminist self-esteem after my muddled, what-the-fuck reaction to the phone pervert. My fellow Kmart lesbian and I have agreed that the only good thing about working there is that we always have some great stories to tell.
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