The General Public is Creepy

This woman comes in to the spa and she wants to buy some make-up. I am very sweet and nice and smiley and I show her where we keep all our testers and I ask her what she's interested in. She sits down in the make-up chair and curtly says, "I tell you what I want and you go get it for me." I smile even though I want slap her. I walk over to the product closet and she spends the next fifteen minutes ordering me around, demanding certain colors, changing her mind, demanding other things, at one point she says, "Just move! Let me look for that!" And pushes me away from the product closet so she can look for something I'VE ALREADY TOLD HER WE DON'T EVEN CARRY.

When she is ready to pay, I ask her for her name so that I can look up her file. She turns her nose up at me and says, "Oh, I've never been here before." Though from the look on her face you'd think I just asked her if she'd ever eaten a bowl of steaming shit. I sweetly ask her to tell me her name so that I may put her into our system. Her eyes widen and she scoffs, "I don't want to be in your little system. No, you cannot have my name." As she handed me cash for the purchase she got this ugly, smug little look on her fat face and said, "See? I am paying in cash so you can't get my name off my credit card!" AND THEN SHE SMILED AT ME.

Then there's the lady that comes in for a treatment that I've tried myself several times, so I know what it feels like and I know that while it is a little uncomfortable, it is in no way painful. And I'm a total chicken. But this lady sits there and moans the entire time. Moans. Like this: "Ooooooohhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhh! Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhh! Oooooaaaahhhh my! Oooooohhhhh! Oooooh! Uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh! Hmmmmmmm. Uuuuhhhhh! Aaaah!" For the entire thirty minute treatment. It sounds like someone is shooting a bad porno in the treatment room. Afterwards, she refuses to come out of the room for at least ten minutes. The doctor leaves her in there alone so she can get dressed and then she locks herself in and won't come out for ten minutes. Today she was in there for over fifteen minutes. After she'd been in there for twelve minutes I knocked on the door and asked if everything was alright. She replied, "ah.... uh... yes!" I think she's snooping around in there, trying to find where the doctor keeps pill samples or something. Or maybe she's masturbating. Either way, it's really creepy. This is the same woman who is always asking me to charge her iPod for her, even though she knows that charging her iPod requires me to get on my hands and knees, crawl around under my desk, and move my entire computer. And while I'm crawling around on my hands and knees she stands there watching me. With this weird half-smile on her face. Like she's imagining me naked. 

Earlier today, on the bus, my anklet broke so I was bent over with my foot in my lap trying to fix it. This man getting on the bus taps me on the back and puts his face right in mine, so that I could smell his nasty gingivitis breath and says, "it's broken?". I looked at him with as much horror as I could muster (which was actually pretty easy to do as I was utterly horrified) and turned my back to him. Then I checked to make sure my skirt wasn't hiked up showing too much thigh or something, since apparently, accidentally showing a little skin is an invitation to be harassed by douche bags. My skirt was not hiked up. I was not showing too much skin. I fixed my anklet and picked up my book when the guy behind me starts saying, "Miss? Miss? Hello?" then he starts making little noises, little clicky, kissy, whistley, attention-getting noises. I ignore him, thinking he'll give up, BUT THEN HE TOUCHES ME. HE REACHES ACROSS THE AISLE OF THE BUS, OVER ANOTHER ROW OF SEATS AND TOUCHES MY BACK TO GET MY ATTENTION. When I jump, he says, "You fixed it?" I wheeled around, this time giving him the angriest, evilest, nastiest face I could make and growled, "Yes, it's fixed." He spent the next two blocks (and in Manhattan traffic two blocks is equal to about ten minutes) saying, "Fucking cunt. Fucking cunt-whore. Bitch. Fucking bitch-cunt-whore. I was just trying to be nice. Fucking bitch-whore. Fucker. Fucking being nice you fucking cunt." I managed to sit perfectly still, my face buried in my book as though I couldn't hear a word of the foul, vomitous, filth pouring out of his disgusting, rotted, vile mouth, until he got off the bus. But let me tell you. If I'd had it my way, my elbow would have landed a hard blow in his eye socket. And then I'd have punched him in the throat. And then kicked him in his stomach. And stomped on his balls. And then spit on him. Because that is a perfectly normal reaction to that situation, right?