Still feeling lazy, my loves, so here's another oldie-but-goodie from the vault. Did you know I used to work at a comic book store in Wilmington, NC?
November 11, 2002
Truth, Justice and the American Way
I encounter a variety of customers working at the comic book store. The majority of them are men, the comic industry plays into the male psyche beautifully. The common hero is the underdog male, mundane in existence by day, cape wearing vigilante by night. A classic reflection of one's secret self, the longing to be something other than what one is. The second aspect played is that of approachable female. Comics are entertainment, fantasy. And given to pen, women in the comic world can perform impossible contortions while wearing the least amount of clothing and still have a personality. Even feminist icon Wonder Woman skips around in a near bikini. Obviously, your "real life" woman isn't going to fight crime and the forces of evil in high heels. The combination of underdog hero and stunning femme fatale make a delightful afternoon read.
That being said, the customers have a variety of tastes, some that would make an eyebrow raise.
Such as: The man who cleaned out our adult-only box of 75 cent porn. 75 cent porn is really just a pamphlet, the size and style like the opening of a centerfold. They are for promotional use, previews for magazines, with all the features and nudity involved. This man came in and bought $20 worth of 75 cent porn.
As I was adding up his amount, I had to clear my throat and say, "You know, we carry most of these magazines" and point him in the right direction.
But, nope. He just wanted the promos. Whatever floats your boat.
Then, there is the sweetest old man that comes in before his night shift. Apparently, just across the river is one of the largest computer-something factories in the Southeast. Mr. Work-boots starts his day at 7pm, and ends somewhere in the early morning hours. He is always polite, remembers my name, and wears the same scuffed work-boots everyday. He first came into the store on a slow Tuesday afternoon, looking at me with surprise and an exclamation of,
"Well, hello there new gal!"
I immediately smile. It's a treat to spoken to so kindly and comfortably.
After some chatting, he asks,
"Do you go to church young lady?"
Me: "I...well, I haven't really found one I'm comfortable with here in Wilmington."
Him: "When you do, make sure it's Baptist."
Me: "Um, yes sir."
(I'm itching to ask him why, the inner religion scholar preparing to burst through, but I keep my mouth shut for once.)
Him, pointing to a truck in the parking lot: "That there is my wife. She is the finest lady in the world."
Me, smile and nod. His wife sits patiently in a pink cardigan, the image of grandmothers and baking comes to mind.
I am filled with lovely thoughts at that moment, this sweet old couple sitting in rocking chairs by pictures of grandchildren. Mr. Work-boots in the comic book store to buy the hero comics that he grew up with. A nostalgic visit to his childhood, when 10 cents would provide a world of fantasy.
I gather his comics from his box (customers list the comics of their choice and we collect them in their box -- a service that ensures the comic of choice is not sold out, and if one collects a large amount, saves time from having to search. Plus, we get to know what genre the customers like, so we can recommend others they may enjoy). I find his box to be overflowing with a large stack of comics, which I assume will be the latest Superman issues.
Much to my surprise I glance down at the cover to see an illustrated naked woman mooning me.
I am taken aback as I go through the stack at the register. Every comic was from the "bad girl" section; scantly clad women blasting aliens or grotesque monsters while still managing not to smear their lipstick. Compared to these girls, Lara Croft is a nun.
Mr. Work-boots pays, and scopes up his comics with a smile.
"Now, you remember to find yourself a nice church, ya hear?"
"Yes, sir." I reply with another smile.
As you can see, he is my favorite customer.
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