Sexual Harassment # 3

This one can be given the avant-garde title, Fluorescent Lights.

It’s hard being sassy. I don’t know why I choose it every time. I’m probably a glutton for punishment. It was mild sexual harassment that somehow morphed me, the victim, into the perpetrator and got me fired from Barnes & Noble. (Note: The last S isn’t there)

This guy shows up to my counter with a playboy and some black & white NY historical photo book and at the time of paying, he decides to make it rain. 

He put his hand up and just sent bill by bill into the air and watched them fall. 

Or maybe I watched them fall.. It was only a few bills but as they scattered on the counter I’m thinking .. 

Dude, I don’t know what you do with your free time or what about dollars makes you go into a rain frenzy, but look around bud, there’s fluorescent lights on in here. You are not where you think you are, also who the fuck buys titty-mags from Barnes and Noble?

You see me – I’m in a company polo AND I’m wearing a name tag! 


Did you really think ‘making it rain’ would just go unnoticed? 

Maybe he thought I wouldn’t know what he was doing? I mean I don’t imagine he’s making it rain for Jose when he buys his bacon egg and cheese at the corner store.

I didn’t pick them up. Nothing against strippers.

In the terribly uncomfortable seconds of silence, I smiled. My bad. I was thinking of Jose’s reaction when this guy says, “Let me get that BLT. wink-wink” Or at his local bar when he orders a $2 bud light and he’s got his hands up dropping one bill at a time.

Fuck that. This guy is a prick.

I laugh but this is personal, and I’m no child. Worse if I was. I pick up the bills and ask, 

“Do you always pay for things like that?”

“Like what?”  

Like what? The fuck you mean, like what? Are you not aware of what’s going on. But instead, I say, “Like you’re paying a stripper?” 

He was shocked. Him!  – The audacity I had? Right?

Please..You should have seen his open mouth shocked-white-guy, ‘No-one-talks-to-me-like-that’ face. He walks straight to customer service and finds my manager. 

I can see his arms flailing as they talk. He’s totally irate – the manager comes over.. I’m watching them walk towards me, counting out wrong change and shit. I’m sweating. He succeeded in making me uncomfortable. A little later than he hoped for, but succeeded nevertheless. Finally, my manager comes talking into her walkie-talkie. 

A walkie-talkie. Again, we sell books. This is not a nightclub. People are pretty much reading, as that is what they they came here to do. There’s not a whole fucking lot of noise pollution that any one person needs a walkie talkie. 

So, Barnes and Noble’s finest asks me to come off the register and talk to her in the back. I walk past him as he’s waiting to see that the resolution of this ordeal is to his liking. Steam is coming off of his skin and he’s got death eyes pointed my way. 

Immediately I enter one of the stranger conversations of my life.

Did you tell him that he threw money on the counter like he was paying a stripper? 

No, I asked him if he always throws his money like that?

What is ‘like that?’

Like one would throw money if they were in a strip club.

You can’t say that to a customer? 

I gave her common sense. 

He asked me to say it. No one makes it rain by accident. 

It’s not like he’s new at paying for things, or some foreigner who doesn’t know how we do things in this country. 

This is not a misunderstanding. He’s a total pervert. 

She sat back into her seat. Closed her eyes and sort of melted into her chair a bit and then stood up abruptly to say,

“He can pay you anyway he wants to. What you can’t do is accuse a customer of paying strippers?


“I didn’t accuse him of paying strippers.”


Without further delay, she used a formality to fire me.


“You can’t use the word stripper. I am going to have to ask you leave. 

And out the door I went. #georgethorogood



Sexual Harassment #1

I’m part of the look-better-naked group. Does anyone know about this life? I promise it’s just as real as any one of your other categorical bullshit.

I’m 5’2 and it always looks like I’m wearing children’s clothing and I am. 

The perfect size leggings for these so-called legs is boys medium. 

I’ve been the same size since 5th grade. 

12 years old fully-grown. 

Do you know how sarcastic that makes a person?

 “Lucky is more like it” People want to say, rolling their eyes or worse yell at me… but that got me thinking just how un-lucky we can all be when it comes to size. 

Originally, I started dating to have more random sex. Results were less than positive. But I gave it a valiant effort. I said goodbye to the serial monogamist in me and joined the masses in spreading disease.

Psychosis, syphilis it’s all the same really.

It’s not working, the whole plan is making me rethink the word Lucky, again. 

7 Micro-Dicks later…I mean for a while there I would wince just when a man was about to get undressed. What’s it gonna be? What’s it gonna be? Please be a real boy. 

It is such a shame too. These are very nice men. I mean incredibly nice BUT that’s when you know.

If a guy is over the top nice, he’s probably got one of those head-only penises. He’s reaching because he can’t reach. 

Oh stop it. Dicks are not built equal. I’ve already had sexual harassment claims twice in this life, both claims against women.

You guys want to hear my sexual harassment stories? 

Can you please rate this story? How happy are you with this story? Would you recommend this story to a friend? You haven’t heard the entire story? Want to unlock this story? Just log in or sign up? Sorry that login attempt in incorrect. Did you forget your password? That is what my hell would be. That and videos of people applying make-up. Seriously why is that a thing?

Story begins now.

As a PT, I was in the middle of stretching someone. He was tall, like over six feet. He had mocha skin with green eyes – a beaut for sure… and a fan of playing sports that tall people excel at, which is what I like to call LIFE

Being short is a major fucking handicap BUT there’s no box for short on any of my government forms….Some people get into a relationship for sex, love, babies, etc. Me…. I just need access to the top of the cabinet. I don’t need a step stool, Steve is my step stool. 

So, my entire 5 ft what? 5 ft strong body is positioned over his stretching his piriformis. It was my job. I’m a personal trainer. We weren’t buddies and we weren’t getting weird. When the stretch was over I walked to the bathroom to wash my hands.. Normal fucking procedures. On the way, I pass my manager. 

A tall German who really had a thing for that guy. She had just gotten back from Germany. I asked how the trip was and she cuts me off and asks if she can talk to me for a moment.
“Ok. Yea.”  We walk into a closet like office. 

She then says, “I saw you stretching Chris.”
“Yea,” my face holds back a duh.  

“I saw you look at his genitalia.”

Um WTF. Ok. How did she say that with a straight face? Right she’s German.

“What did you just say to me?” I asked her.
She repeated it! Saying the unthinkable without laughter, twice. 

I mean could you imagine being so jealous that someone else is getting near the genitalia that you want, that you accuse them of looking at it and out loud…

People: He was wearing basketball shorts people over compression leggings. I mean fucking sick, bro. Sick. That was the first time I called HR. They made her apologize and a strong recommendation that she purchase a dildo.