[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.
Top Text: “You don’t look single. You look like you must live with your boyfriend.”
Bottom Text: “Well I guess that explains why I’m still single.”]
This dude was a piece of work. He came in just before closing time asking for towels. Preferably hand towels, if possible. I work in a small drug store, so we don’t usually carry any sort of bath towel, but I took him to seasonal where we have some beach towels on sale for summer, but no hand towels. At which point he completely ignores what I’m saying and asks if I’m married.
Not one for lying in any situation, I tell him no, I’m not married, hoping the unimpressed look on my face is enough of a hint that I’m not interested in where this conversation is going, and quickly comment on the towels again.
Again, he ignores me and asks if I’m single. Yes, I’m single, but we’re talking about these towels, yes?
He then says the above, and I’m just… flabbergasted for a moment. I mean… there’s a look? I look like I live with my (non-existent) boyfriend? What exactly does that look like?
He then chooses that moment to ask me for my number. “I’m flattered, but no.” I say.
"No? Why not?"
"Well, 1: Because I’m working, and that’s not really appropriate. And 2: Because I just don’t really want to."
Twice more, I try to bring the conversation back to the towels, and twice more, he asks for my number. I try to bring the conversation back around the towels again, but he persists, and my patience is shrinking while my discomfort is growing. He refuses to listen to me, and asks if I would like his. I tell him no, I don’t want his number. He then explains that he’s just moved to town, and doesn’t really know anyone. (I can’t possibly imagine why…) As if asking for a pity number will make me respect him more.
It is now past closing time. I want to go home, so I try to bring his attention back to the towels he asked me about at the beginning of all this, and he proceeds to—without any provocation—tell me his number, saying to “just keep it in mind, okay?”
"Okay, I’ll keep it in mind." I say, immediately forgetting it.
He then leaves the store without buying anything, and I head back to the cash office to silently fume about persistent assholes who refuse to take no for an answer.
Later, I talked to the cosmetics advisor about the incident after our shift, and she asked me why I didn’t just give him a fake number.
I said, “Because I shouldn’t bloody well have to.”