Retail Tales: The Doughnut Ninja
The first in a brief series of true stories from the dark world of working in shops and that...
Years and years ago, I worked in a branch of the world-beating music store Our Price – the company has long since gone to the dogs, so perhaps it wasn’t as world-beating as all that. A flush-faced, overweight chap in his early twenties became a daily visitor to the branch I was working in, often turning up four or five times a day.
Normally hanging around in the martial arts video section, he would peer longingly at one of my female co-workers who naturally wasn’t interested in this fat-arsed furtive peeper. Eventually, having realised that his chosen seduction method of staring (coupled with the occasional hint of light drooling) wasn’t paying dividends, he upped the ante and would punctuate his lurking with demonstrations of some of his hottest kung-fu moves. Naturally, us lot behind the counter struggled to maintain our composure and carry on presenting the professional face that the buying public knew and loved. Sniggering at him only increased the intensity of his display.
After a few days of busting his moves at imagined enemies in the name of love, another customer mistakenly thought that the doughnut ninja was having a go and took a swing at him. We never saw him again.