Are You Working?

*I went to NYC this past weekend and though I would love to bore you with those details I thought this posting would be much more entertaining. Enjoy. I will bore you with my trip soon enough, there is some juice there but i'll save it for later. 


I used to work retail at a Music store namely Circles Records and Tapes. 
It was one of the best experiences ever. Maybe because I met Derek there or because the people..ohhh the people were very, very interesting.  
Anyway. There were some good times at that place. It is now closed. Forever. 

If you have read my story on the cursed skirt you would understand this crazy relationship I have with clothing. Certain pieces of clothing call for crazy discussions. 
Because I sure know how to pick'em! 


While working at Circles I had this pair of white pants (I didn't realize they were a tad bit sheer than I originally thought) but they were cute nonetheless. 
Well, while wearing said pants on this day I went outside for my 15 minute break to smoke. (Nasty I know, no need to tell me as I hear it too often) 
Everyone in the store utilized that area as a break/rest area for their breaks so it was known for us to sit there and smoke. 

So there I was sitting outside alone, relaxing, killing my lungs when along passes a fella on a bike.
Just rolls right past me and does a quick glance.  I didn't think to much of it until out of my peripheral vision I see him stop, then his legs start moving his bike back towards me. 


He stops looks at me and says "Are you working?" 
I think to myself "Yeah, but there are others that can help you inside, can't you see that I am busy!" 
But I just reply with a "Yeah"
He keeps staring at me then says "Is there a place around here we can go?, I know I am on a bike but....." then leaves it up to me to fill it in. 
I look around stupefied....like huh?
"Ahem...excuse me?" I say
He looks around the area and says "Can we go somewhere around close by?, I just need to go get some money." 
Again I don't know what the fuck he is talking about "Excuse me, what are you talking about?" 
Him "I thought you said you were working?"
Me "I am! I work here (pointing behind me) and I am on my break" 
Him "OOHHH. I'm sorry I thought that you were working"


Let me explain.
This guy thought that because I was outside in my white semi-sheer pants and regular t-shirt that I was strutting my stuff enough to be a prostitute. What a fucking douche. I mean I was fully clothed! Come on PANTS for crying out loud and a t-shirt..there was no short skirt nor was I wearing fuck-me-boots or glitter sandals I was wearing Sketcher shoes (the chunky ones) what the hell was I thinking with those shoes? Don't know but trust me they did not scream hooker, tramp, escort or call girl. 

This dude just tried to pick me up ....on his bike!
For a round of hanky panky!
What the fuck is this? 
We got street people in the store ALL of the time, they smelled like shit, talked a whole lot of nonsense, but mostly they didn't harass us (that was mostly).


Then we have this dipshit who:
1) Does not have a vehicle transport to pick up a whore
2) Did not think out the money situation throughly  
3) Believed that little ol' me was someone who gave up the goods for some money


Sheesh. 


No way in hell was that man gonna get some from anyone especially from me.

One he needed to give those rusty ass lines some work and juice it up with something a little more approach worthy or again make the mistake of asking a person who has a 'real' job instead. 
Two he needed a car. 
Three he needed to go to an area known to have these streetwalkers I should have pointed the way and he could have taken his bike riding ass the additional 10 miles to that destination.


Why do I associate these white semi-sheer pants to this story? Because I think this was the reason he stopped in the first place. 


After this little incident my then-boyfriend demanded I not wear them anymore as I had an assortment of colorful undergarments. And even though they were thongs I didn't think that people would actually be able to see my epidermis. I guess I thought flesh wasn't a color. Boy was I wrong.