Damn, Girl...

A long time ago, when I was a hot young cashier, an incident happened that I will forever remember.

Back when we had a little store, the cashier was enclosed in what we called 'the cage'. This was a tiny little office that we stood in with a window that opened so that we could deal with customers.

Well one day I was standing right outside of the office and this guy comes up to me. He looks me up and down (dramatically, I might add) and tells me:

"Damn girl, you got some fine lookin' toes!"

I said nothing, because this was in the early days when I wasn't the sarcastic, mean cashier I am now.

So he kept licking his lips and staring down at my feet, which, by the way, did not look 'fine' at all. I hadn't painted my toenails in weeks, so there was chipped toenail paint, and they needed to be cut badly. I could have sliced his achilles tendon with my big toenail. I probably should have.

So after two very awkward minutes of him staring at my toes and making groaning noises, I wised up and went back into the cage so he couldn't look at my delicious toes anymore.

This was probably the first time I ever had to deal with a pervert and since I was so innocent at the time, I didn't notice.

Was I flattered? Maybe my toes were, but not me.