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December 2011
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February 2012

Restaurant Retail Balls: Management Kicks Out Homophobic Senator

From HuffPo:

The Republican senator at the forefront of Tennessee's controversial "Don't Say Gay" bill proposal has confirmed reports that he was kicked out of a Knoxville eatery by the owner in response to his recent anti-gay remarks.

In a new interview with The David Packman Show, Stacey Campfield said of the incident, "It is true, [The Bistro at the Bijou owner Martha Boggs] asked me to leave. It's unfortunate that some people -- you know -- we can't sit down and talk about issues." (statements occur at about 8:24 in the above clip).

Campfield went on to note, "I always say liberals are the most open-minded people...until somebody actually has a different point of view, and then they sort of freak out and don't know how to handle people with different points of view."

The senator also spoke at length about both the bill itself and a controversial interview he gave last week to Michelangelo Signorile, HuffPost Gay Voices' Editor-at-Large, in which he made some surprising claims about the HIV/AIDS epidemic and the media's supposed "glorification" of homosexuals.




Funny Custy Tales: Sugar Baby Needs Cash


I just had an Anna Nicole Smith encounter!

She’s not dead people but merely reincarnated into another body of some Sugar Baby ! Here’s how it went down.

After the holidays, most retailers have dip in sales with January being the slowest month of the year so all things were quiet on the retail front.

I was manning the counter as usual but who should come in but Sugar Baby and her satchel of gifts given to her from her meal ticket.

Knowing the drill, she drops her bags on the encounter and requests a return. After throwing her receipts at me totaling close to $1000, I begin to process her request.

Normally, I ignore such rudeness from custys and avert my eyes while I finish the job at hand but some voice in my head told me to look up.

To tell you the truth RHU, I shouldn’t have because the moment I gazed at Sugar Baby she turned into Medusa from Clash of the Titans! I mean she turned me into the stone by having me transfixed on her appearance. Okay, have you ever seen a really bad car accident on the road that you could not help but stare at it? Well this was one of those times! Sad to say, Sugar Baby had some really, and I do mean really, bad plastic surgery! Freddy2 031

The woman was nipped, tucked, pulled, and implanted to the point that she looked like a space alien getting off the mothership. Put it this way, Sugar Baby made Joan Rivers and catlady socialite Jocelyn Wildenstein look normal. My eyes burned as I stared into the eclipse. Solar flares were shooting out her eyes causing me to believe that 2012 was happening early As I began to process her return, the alien began to speak.

Sugar Baby: I bought these for son but he obviously does not like them. I want to return them for cash. (Translation: Take me to your leader Earthling or else I will anally probe you.)

Me: No problem. Receipt is here. Check. Tags attached. Check. (A thousand dollars worth of designer stuff that your spoiled Hellspawn does not want. Check.) Okay, let me take care of this for you.

I start to do the return when Sugar Baby gets on her cell and dials her Sugar Daddy. Oh RHU this is when Anna Nicole Smith starts to bust out of the alien’s body. (Where’s Sigourney Weaver when you need her?)

Freddy2 039

Sugar Baby starts to speak in a baby voice for her Sugar Daddy. I shit you not! It was this high pitch infant voice the appeared too paranormal for words. (Perhaps it was some alien language like Pig Latin or a Kardashian.)

Sugar Baby: Oooooooooh Honeeeeeeeey! This is your Sugar Babeeeeeeeey! My son does not like any of the stuff you bought him. (Pouts.) I’m sorry to bother you in your meeting. I know you’re really busy. Look I have to return them because I don’t have any cash on me. (Starts to whine.) Your Babeeeeeey does not have any moneeeeey! I need cash babeeeeey because I’m hungreeeeeey. I need to eat Honeeeeey. I’ll see you later. Okay love you. (Makes kissing sounds on her cell.)

I finish the return and give her a large wad of bills from my register. Apparently, Sugar Daddy does not feed his Sugar Babeeeeey. Sugar Daddeeeey, take note. Feed your Babeeeeey so she doesn’t have to carry a large wad of moneeeey and get mugged like some dummeeeeeey! Honeeeeeey, that would be a tragedeeeeeey!

On the upside, the alien can now use her new elastic skin as weapon to whip away potential robbers or wear it as a designer belt accessory!

--Queer Geek


Retail Hell Memories At The Mall: Dumbass Coworker Mistakes Newbies For Custys

BookstoreslaveI hate working at the mall. So much fucking suckage.

Bookstore Slave with memories from the days of being a mall slave.

The store opens at 9:00 am. This is easy to understand. However, I am scheduled to be in the store at 8:30 to begin my shift and acquire my till, count it out, confirm that I didn't steal money in the first 5 minutes of my shift etc.

So at 8:15 I'm standing at the gated door of the dimly lit mall store, keeping a keen eye out for meandering employees.

Time keeps ticking away. 8:20 am.

Me: Hello?

No answer.

8:25. I have been joined by a second newbie. No movement.


Miss Prissy saunters out, makes a "shoo" motion with her hands at me, doesn't even look at me standing dressed in full store regalia: "Our store doesn't open until 9 am, come back then." She then saunters back into the back.


Miss Priss: We don't open until 9! Come back then!


8:30, and there are now three of us outside the door, dressed in our uniforms. We should be signing in right fucking now.


Well, security isn't deaf, and they naturally came over to investigate. We were obviously dressed for work, complete with the shirt sporting the store name. Since yelling hasn't been working, we are all drawn away to the info desk by the Security Officer. He picks up the phone and dials the store number. This is the side of the conversation that we heard:

SO: Hello. Listen, this is Mall Security. I'm not sure how you missed it, but you have three employees who are trying to get into your store so they can begin their shifts.

SO: Uh huh. Well maybe they wouldn't BE late if you had opened the grate for them fifteen minutes ago.
*pause* OCTOCAROL 251

SO: No, I observed one of your store employees telling them to leave and not come back until 9, when the store opened.

*pause* His face becomes thunderous.

SO: So you're telling me that on their very first shift on their very first day of work with your company, that you expect them to have a key to get in to the back door, even though you never issue keys to anyone but the manager on duty?

SO: Oh KNOCKING on the door would have gotten them inside. Do they KNOW how to get to your back door?

(We learned later that the mall has hallways behind every store to let employees transport trash and/or cash throughout most of the mall without exposing themselves to to mall traffic and the danger of having their tills taken from them by NATs. These are mazes and even the most experienced mall slave is apt to get turned around due to the sameness of every hallway and the lack of store names on the doors that you may pass.)


SO: Look, you've wasted my time, yours and theirs. You have two minutes to get that grill open to let these new employees inside or I will be calling your home office to report your behavior.

The actual manager of the store opened the grill to let us inside, allowing the three of us newbies begin our first day of work ten minutes late.

The manager has has somehow remained oblivious to the whole situation with Miss Priss: Oh, why didn't you call the store?

The security officer gave the nearby Miss Priss a look of murderous death and very succinctly told him what was going on.

Miss Priss got written up, but we were never issued keys. We spent the rest of our shifts either hanging from the front grill in the mornings or else hopelessly meandering the maze in back, carefully counting doors and still knocking on the wrong one.

May all your customers be nice,

--Bookstore Slave