The Bad Guy

Passed out in a booth.

When evenings at the peep show would wind down, those of us who worked there would sometimes feel this urge to start doing our jobs. It was an irrational impulse that we liked to justify by too much drugs, too little drugs, hating the music the cashier was playing, being beaten at Scrabble or Chess too many times, not liking the people we working with, or sheer boredom.

It was one such night when I was making my rounds and sweeping out all the booths. I got to one door and noticed that the “in use” light was on and moved to the next unoccupied booth.  At the end of my sweeping tour of the theater I saw the light above the booth I noticed earlier was now off. Putting away the broom and dustpan and shucking the latex gloves from my hands, I headed to the front desk.

me: Some guy’s been in booth 15 for a while now. The light went off and he’s still in there.

cashier: Yeah, I noticed that guy put in $40 a long time ago.

me: I’ll wait ten minutes and knock on the door.

cashier: Whatever.

me: Want to play some chess?

cashier: FUCK YEAH!

I wasn’t high that night so I won the game. Having trounced the cashier I was instructed to:

cashier: Go do your fucking job. Those booths aren’t cleaning themselves, you know.

me: Don’t hate me ’cause I beat you.

cashier: I got plenty of other reasons to hate you.

me: Good to know, I was getting worried for a moment.

So I gloved up, grabbed the broom and proceeded to my victory lap. Everything was fine until I got to booth 15. The light was still off and the door was still locked. I was about to unlock the door, but I thought better of it. I knocked loudly and warned whoever was in there that I was going to open the booth up. Hearing no reply, I unlocked the booth and saw a man curled up in the fetal position on the floor of this very small video space.

me: [Tapping the man on the shoulder] Guy! Hey, guy? Time to wake up, man.

man on floor: [Not fully committed to rising] Uungmmmowammm.

me: [Rolling my eyes] Come on, guy. Time to get up. You can’t sleep here.

man on floor: Go…Wha?

me: Let me help you up.

man on floor: Give me three more…Hours, man.

me: [Grabbing hold of the guy’s hand and helping him up] You do NOT want to sleep here. Trust me on this one.

man on floor: What did I do?

me: You passed out in this here booth. that’s what you did.

man on floor: I was sleeping!

me: Listen, you just fell asleep on a floor I have not cleaned since…Well, I haven’t cleaned it all tonight, to be honest. So let me tell you what you should do.

man on floor: [Looking at me quizzically] Huh?

me: Go home and get yourself cleaned up. Wash your…No, BOIL your clothes or BURN them. And scrub yourself down at least five times with lots of soap and scalding hot water. This place is not clean and you should not have been rolling around in that aged puddles of semen.

man on floor: Wait…Are you saying you peed on me?

me: [Following my own advice (for once) of not arguing with the drunk] Go home. Be safe…Don’t forget to wash up.

man on floor: [Staggering up the block, proclaiming for no one in particular] That guy just peed on me! [Hailing and getting in a cab] SOMEBODY JUST PEED ON ME!!!


June 3, 2007 - Posted by | bad jobs, peep shows, san francisco, Work


  1. Ewww

    *Goes and has a bath for just THINKING about it*

    Comment by Hath | June 4, 2007 | Reply

  2. Ha! I always suspected you were into water sports! [evil grin]

    Comment by geltsgirl | June 4, 2007 | Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: