You know what I hate?
I hate it when you go to Ye Olde Sex Shoppe * and you fork out the cash for Penis Massage Cream and the lady forgets to put it in your bag with the rest of your purchases and you don’t realize it’s missing until you get home.
So, you get all the way home and you take a peep at the receipt and you’re all “Well, hell yeah, says here I paid for the Penis Massage Cream - where hell is it?”
And I just know they do that shit on purpose because they see me coming a mile away and they just know the last thing I’m going to do is march on back into that store and get all gang busters on them:
“Excuse me. I said EX-cuse me. Says here I paid for am $8 bottle of Penis Massage Cream and I did not get my bottle of Penis Massage Cream! Just because you can bank on the fact that one out of every two people are going to be out-right embarrassed coming back in here - thou shalt not jip your customers, ya mofos!”
And I get to waving my receipt like Moses on the mount.
No, times like that some of us are gonna hafta cut our losses and suck it up.
But had it been say, the $50 super-twisted-three-head-vibrating-dildo with attachments, well then, you are just going to have to trust your own judgment on that one my friends. Because chances are - should some lady forget to put that in the bag - that’s no accident.
Something like that’s just too hard to forget and you are just going to have to suck it up and march right on back in there and demand satisfaction ‘cause you know you’re getting jacked.
So yeah, such was my weekend. I went to the local cheesy “adult store” this weekend to buy some things for my sister’s last bachelorette party (yes, there were three total. Her friends live for that shit) We’d been avoiding the tacky-toy aspect of the experience for some time now and I forgot I told the other girls I’d pick a few things up.
Not a problem really, it’s really not terrifying or embarrassing save for the fact whatever went wrong could – including the mysterious disappearing Penis Cream and the fact that the check I wrote wouldn’t go through.
Yeah, I know. I didn’t have enough cash on me, and I since someone illegally liberated $1500 out of my checking account via my debit card number – it’s usually cash, check or credit for me. No more debit.
And even though I know there was puh-lenty of cash in my account, there was some sort of code that would pop up when they tried to run it through.
So, no problem I gave them my credit card – which for once was not totally maxed out.
But. do you know how embarrassing it is when these women (there were literally four of them perusing my purchases) were all staring me down like I am writing bum checks for Exotic Mango Massage Oil and whatnot?
“Sorry miss, check’s not going through – we keep getting a code 2”
“Code 2? What’s a code 2?”
“We don’t know, you’re going to have to call your bank. Just tell them you wrote a check out to Ye Olde Sex Shoppe* for $74.79 and you got a code 2.”
Yeah, sure, okay - 2 things lady. One - quit looking at me like I am a criminal. Do you honestly think if I was going to go on a bum check writing spree I’d be buying your chintzy crap? Heck no, I’d buy a new laptop or go on vacation or something.
Ok, and 2 – do you honestly think I’m gonna get my bank on the horn and let them know there was some difficulty passing tender for a gel vibrator and some massage oils?
I mean. For real.
So, the moral of the story is: It’s best to hit the ATM before you do any of your smut shopping.
Remember, everything I do, I do for you.
*not the store’s real name. Why bother? I dunno