The summer of 1997 was the best and worst of my young life. The worst because unbeknownst to anyone my Mom would die of gastric cancer on December 17, 76 days after she was diagnosed with it on October 1st.
It was the best because I worked at Lover’s Package, now simply called, Lovers. The company name on my paychecks was Peekay Inc. d.b.a. Lover’s Package. Of course, I looked up what d.b.a. was an acronym for: does business as.
As you can imagine, I have some wild stories to tell …
Selling is Second Nature
In the 1990’s getting a summer job was easy as a push button. I’ll be dating myself with the following … I searched through the Classified Ads of the local newspaper, The Seattle Times versus it’s rival, The Seattle Post Intelligencer. [Yes, a printed newspaper which ink smudged on your fingertips!]
I called them from my landline in my bedroom, that I paid for with my own money, for an interview at a brick and mortar building. Once the interview was scheduled, I borrowed my Dad’s Thomas Guide to plot a road route. Afterwards, I practiced driving to the interview place a few times, at different times of day, and different days of the week to understand the “average” amount of time would it take.
Lovers [Package] has been a pioneer in the sex positive and sexual wellness movements since it was founded in 1981 by Phyllis Heppenstall. In keeping with her vision for adult stores, Lovers is dedicated to creating spaces—both in our physical stores and online—that empower, instruct, and motivate people from all walks of life to realize their greatest capacity for pleasure.
I was interviewed by their District Manager, her name was Sean. Sean was a gorgeous redhead from the South. After filling out a paper application, and answering some interview questions, and a pending background check, she hired me conditionally.
After a quick break, she launched into training mode with another employee present to operate the store. She gave me a tour of this location, while explaining that 12 other locations will have a slightly varied layout.
To finish my training, Sean walked over, selected a very demure dildo, and placed it on the counter with the command of “sell this dildo to me, Carlos.”
I picked up the packaged dildo as I walked out from behind the counter then returned it to where Sean had plucked it.
She asked, “Why’d you do that?”
“That was not gonna being a selling transaction, that would be simply buying,” I replied. “A ‘selling then buying‘ experience has an emotional component to it.” I pirouetted in front of the wall of adult toys. “Hey there, my name is Carlos. What’s your name?” I asked with my outstretched hand.
She answered, “Sean. As in S, E, A, N.”
I nodded, “Not the traditional use of the name but it helps you stand out. Have you ever bought an adult toy before? Did you research by asking your friends?”
Sean exchanged bright-eyed looks with the employee still behind the sale counter, watching all of this. “No. It’s my first time, so I didn’t ask around.”
“Thank you for the answer. It can intimidating the first time, ” I continued. “Let me suggest some recommendations based on …”
Sean cut me off. “Ok, clearly selling is second nature for you.”
What’s In The Box?!
On the tour, I had noticed a plexiglass box attached to the end of an aisle with several objects on display. What can I say, I have discernible eye! So I asked, “What’s with the box?”, as I pointed towards it.
“Some of the items are self-explanatory. The shrinking vaginal cream, the widening vaginal cream, they seem to be snake oil. Oh, there’s an assortment of butt plugs, stainless steel, glass, etc. But what’s the string with plastic balls attached to it in small increments?”
Sean and the employee giggled a grip from my question. “Those are anal beads, Carlos.”
Anal beads are sex toys used during sex — either partnered or solo — to enhance your orgasm. Anal beads look like a variety of bulbs attached to a cord with a grip on one end. They are intended for insertion into the anus, and the end grip should make them easy to remove. The insertion and removal of anal beads stimulates the sensitive nerves at the entrance of the anus which increases sexual pleasure.
Anal beads range from small to large depending on your experience and comfort with anal penetration. You can also get anal beads that have bulbs that are uniform in size or ones that increase in size on the cord. The beads are inserted slowly into the rectum and pulled out at varying speeds before or during orgasm.
Using anal beads can enhance pleasure in almost any sex act for every body and partner combination. Anal beads don’t require a partner either — they can be an addition to masturbation. In fact, if you’re new to anal stimulation, using anal beads on your own can be a low-pressure way to ease yourself into it.
“So, you don’t grip and rip it like a lawn mower cord,” I acknowledge. “Let’s move on!”
My First Sale
My first work shift was at the Lovers on Broadway in Everett, WA. I must admit I was quite nervous to be working on a low hourly wage, with a commissioned based incentive. Sean informed me that of the 13 locations in Washington State, I was the lone single heterosexual male associate. That should give me the advantage I need, or so she said.
Two women walked into the store, ignored my greeting, and walked straight to the vibrators. I looked at my fellow employee and shrugged my shoulders. She verbally nudged me over with the words, “Go get’em, Tiger.”
I sighed, and walked over to introduce myself. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Carlos, is this your first time buying a … ” My words trailed off as the blonde of the duo promptly left! I asked the brunette, “Was it something I said?”
She giggled. “Not at all, Carlos. She’s embarrassed, it IS her first time buying a vibrator.”
“I understand. But I assume it’s not yours?” I pressed.
“Not at all, that’s why I agreed to help my friend,” she answered.
“Since it’s her first, and she’s not around to answer my questions, you’ll be her proxy,” I concluded.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Ok, Tiger. What’s your first question?”
“Why is she buying an adult toy? Why specifically a vibrator?” I inquired.
“Well, her boyfriend is in the military, and he was just deployed.”
I touched the bottom of my chin. “I see. Does she have any children?”
“Yes, one child of 5 years old. What’s that gotta do with anything?” she fired back.
“I’ll lead you down the prim rose path. Let’s assume he’s deployed for at least a year, yeah?”
The brunette slowly nodded yes in agreement. I stepped towards one of the lowest priced, basic models of vibrators. I selected a 6 inch, plastic encased vibrator with 3-speeds to it. I placed it in her hands, “Based on our conversation with the few details needed, this is my suggestion to start. A basic 6 inch battery powered model with 3 speeds to be selected with this dial. If it were to be accidentally found by a curious 5-year old child, it could be explained away easily as Mommy’s miniature massager. With 2 AA batteries to power it, the sound it emits is a low hum. Are you buying it as a gift to her, or will she just give you the money in the car when you return?”
The brunette, and fellow female employee, were visibly impressed. “Wow. You’re good at this.”
I winked, “You’d be amazed at what else I’m good at. Let’s complete the gift with batteries, toy cleaner, and a discount card for a future purchase.”
It’s Not A Fleshlight, But It’s A Fleshlight
One day I borrowed my Dad’s motorcycle to commute to work: A Honda CX500. I parked it in the parking lot, under a street light because I knew Broadway was sketchy at best in the daylight, so the dark of night would be perilous. There’s a nearby trash can, too.
Sean taught me that if a customer places an item upside down to reveal the barcode and not what it is, simply scan then item and collect money. Well, mid-afternoon a mangy looking man straight outta Everlast’s song, “What It’s Like” walked in.
He strutted towards the personal toys wall. He selects an object, walks over to us at the sales counter, places it upside down.
I scan the the barcode: Pocket Pu$$y is the description for it. I suggest toy cleaner as an add-on for commission. He waves me off. I speak the total, and without a word spoken he hands over the cash for it. With receipt in hand (no bag, etc) he walks out.
[Fast forward hours later]
Once I closed the store, I walk to the motorcycle. I peered down into the garbage bin to see the discarded packaging for the pocket pu$$y I sold that guy several hours ago. EEWWW, I thought. He better not have done that business, in the daylight, while sitting on the motorcycle!
Four Guys and a Goat
About a month of employment, I was the “roaming sales associate” for the area. Lovers had (has) a location in Edmonds off of Highway 99. A female co-worker, and yours truly were on the late shift for closing duties. On this seemingly innocuous night, four drunk males stumbled into the store.
My co-worker volun-told to handle this, so I did. I asked what brought them into the store tonight.
“A bachelor party, dude!” they answered in stereo.
I think, You’re attending one, or are y’all in progress of said party? I mentioned, “I’ll be available for any questions, fellas.” I walked back to my observing co-worker. I stand next to her for our play-by-play, color commentary.
Amongst a bunch of giggling, they buy an inflatable goat with an opening in the rear for *ahem* business, crotch-less panties for aforementioned goat, and a couple of VHS tapes of the adult film genre. They pay in cash, and leave into the night as quickly as they arrived.
[Fast forward to closing time]
As I walk towards my car to drive home after closing the store, I noticed an inflatable object adorned with crotchless panties on the sidewalk. Now mind you, Washington State Highway 99 is a 4-lane, 2-lanes each direction [north and south] that is notorious for having walking transient, homeless, prostitutes, pimps and drug dealers.
Across the highway, a car with it’s headlights, and interior lights on facing the “goat trap” for lack of a better term. I have no idea what they were attempting to catch, but I wasn’t gonna stay and find out. They were laughing up a storm inside the vehicle so at least they were having fun.
AND … that my friends and family covers the subject Labor of Love.
los, Fil-Am Renaissance Man 