We had a monkey boy in the store yesterday. That's what we call a public masturbator. Our loss prevention guy caught sight of him in the monitor, sitting at one of the tables on the third floor, hand working away under that table as he stared at a blissfully unaware young woman browsing in a nearby section. When we approached him to tell him to move on out, he quickly finished his business then told us, "I had a hand seizure."
A few months ago I caught a monkey boy--different one--sitting on the floor in the Romance section (yes, really very appropriate, don't you think?) with a little barricade of books on the floor around him and his jacket on his lap. I had to walk back and forth a few times to determine he really was doing what I thought he was. As I neared, telling him he had to stop what he was doing and leave right away, he rolled his eyes back in his head and worked faster, trying hard to finish.
He didn't, this time.
Oh, the glamorous life of a bookseller.
What I'm reading right now: The Ruins, by Scott Smith
1 month ago