SIR strikes again
She was one of the sweetest customers I'd encountered in the store, a diminutive lady, probably in her 70s, and from what I could tell, completely sightless. She wanted to buy some headphones, so I gave her my elbow to grasp and steered her over to the display of earbuds and lightweight sound devices. I didn't have to be told that she didn't want anything that would fuck up her hair - my mom and her bouf had already instilled that lesson in me.
When she'd ask to "see" a particular product, I'd take it out of the package and put it into her hands for closer inspection. She chose a pair of behind-the-head 'phones, and once again I gave her my elbow and we started toward the counter. On the way there, a friend of hers recognized her and came over to chat. They talked for a minute or two about churchy things, things obviously beyond my comprehension, then her friend asked if she was having any luck with her shopping.
"Oh, yes," my customer enthused. "He's been helping me all over the store." "He" meaning me.
Maybe I should've let her feel my nametag; maybe I should've let her feel my tits. Either way, I wasn't going to ruin the illusion for her.
Maybe she didn't think it was an elbow she was grabbing.
When she'd ask to "see" a particular product, I'd take it out of the package and put it into her hands for closer inspection. She chose a pair of behind-the-head 'phones, and once again I gave her my elbow and we started toward the counter. On the way there, a friend of hers recognized her and came over to chat. They talked for a minute or two about churchy things, things obviously beyond my comprehension, then her friend asked if she was having any luck with her shopping.
"Oh, yes," my customer enthused. "He's been helping me all over the store." "He" meaning me.
Maybe I should've let her feel my nametag; maybe I should've let her feel my tits. Either way, I wasn't going to ruin the illusion for her.
Maybe she didn't think it was an elbow she was grabbing.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 8:34 AM
9 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
It was lovely how you cared for her, Bucky. Are you becoming mellow?
Song that popped into my head: To Sir, With Love
I love this story. Glad you posted it.
Oh dear. You were awfully sweet. This is going to tarnish your reputation, you realize that, don't you?
You want us to think you're all badass and shit, but you're really just a big ol' soft-hearted guy... with tits. Or is it a soft-titted girl... with heart?? Either way, that was a damn nice thing for you to do.
Yes, between your voice, and the height from which it is delivered, you will always be packing a dick as far as blind folks can see!
Funny to me that folks here think of you as strictly bad ass, and not the dainty saint I know you are!
At what point was she pushed to the floor risking breaking a hip?
SSNick - I don't know if you could call me mellow, not with all the buttsex talk.
Susie - I wish more girls would think of me like that.
Squirl - She might have required more attention, but she was still less of a pain in the ass than many of my non-blind customers.
CKelli - I made her promise not to tell anyone. Oh, and also, she thinks I'm a nice young man named Charlie.
Eclectic - I'm gonna go with the guy with tits. Although, come to think of it, most guys with tits are a lot more feminine than I am.
Mermaid - Just call me Saint Dainty of the Schlong.
Bone - I save that treatment for the customers who expect me to be psychic about their fucked-up entertainment systems.
This one made me laugh, Bucky. An old lady used to live next door to us and she could barely see. She thought my husband and I were lesbians. You'd laugh your ass off if you could see my gorilla. Er... I mean my husband.
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