Taking Down an Insolent Cashier
ast year, I was at the Hustler Megastore on Sunset Boulevard with my girlfriend to buy some... ahem, toys. After a good hour of browsing, we decided on some rather intersting tapes and gadgets. So when I walked upto the counter to buy the stuff, my mortified girlfriend ran off to the corner to pretend to look at the lingerie. Anyway, there was some punk white kid with Rock N' Roll piercings behind the counter, trying very hard to look badass in his bluejeans, boots, and white muscle shirt, a la James Dean. I'm normally quite polite and mildmannered, so when he asked for ID (I look younger than my 23 years), I complied without grumbling. I knew by his tone of voice that he was upto something. His scantily-clad stripper-lookalike co-worker stood there with a "what a dork" look on her face.
"Hmm... you want a bag?? He asked.
"Yeah, please. That'd be great."
He paused, and look at me. "Hmmm... maybe I will, maybe I won't," was his reply. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. Obviously, he was trying to bust my chops because he thought I was some Asian geekboy who would just stand there, embarased out of my pants. So I said to him without flinching:
"If you want my money, you'd better that s*** in the bag," with my "don't-f***-with-me-or-I'll-call your-manager" expression. He flinched, somewhat startled that I'd come back with such a quick and well-timed response. He muttered, "Uhh... right. Here you go sir. Have a nice night." He didn't make eye contact, and looked down at the counter. I walked out of the store, arm-in-arm with my woman, my sex-toys in one hand, and the guy's shriveled-up balls in the other.
The Emasculated Asian Male? I think not....
READER COMMENTS