In my experience, some of the most pleasant salespeople are employed in what may be called "fringe" industries: the army surplus cashier, the pawn broker, the porn store clerk, and the head-shop girl. There's simply no tangible pretension in any of those business establishments. Humanity at its very core visits them -- playgrounds of the id. They take you as you are in the porn store. Sometimes, when I need a reality check, I swing by the closest pawn shop and wander through the aisles, looking at the stuff that people traded in. The instruments and guns are usually the most interesting, though I always find both horribly overpriced.
So last night, I saw the head-shop girl at the Pub. I confess to a long-standing schoolboy's crush on her. So I got her attention, called her over, and bought her a beer. She was there with two of her non-conformist friends, both of whom weren't all that excited about my existence. Anyways, turns out head-shop girl is not only cute, but a pretty good conversationalist. We chatted music and books (Hunter S. Thompson fan -- didn't see that one coming), and at the end of the chat, I asked for her number. She gave it to me. Talk about two worlds colliding, but I'm going to call her up later this week. Stay tuned.
So last night, I saw the head-shop girl at the Pub. I confess to a long-standing schoolboy's crush on her. So I got her attention, called her over, and bought her a beer. She was there with two of her non-conformist friends, both of whom weren't all that excited about my existence. Anyways, turns out head-shop girl is not only cute, but a pretty good conversationalist. We chatted music and books (Hunter S. Thompson fan -- didn't see that one coming), and at the end of the chat, I asked for her number. She gave it to me. Talk about two worlds colliding, but I'm going to call her up later this week. Stay tuned.
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