Illustration by Kalah Allen

Dear arcade-o-philes—I understand the rigors of my job. If I didn't, I probably would not have applied to be a porn store clerk. I know you're sexually frustrated. I listen day after day to your strange excuses and failed attempts to convince me that you are a completely normal member of society. The punch line is that I don't care. I don't care that your wife won't fuck you in the ass with a strap-on, and I don't care that because of the recession, you can only go to my porn store four nights a week instead of six. I'm sure outside of work we could be fast friends, but when you start a conversation with, "So, do you ever suck cock in the booths?" it puts a damper on the "getting to know you" stage. Please, Mr. Arcade Cruiser, stop propositioning me at work. I'm only here because I need a job, I don't want to watch you and some obviously married man jack each other off. I'm not aiming this at all arcade goers, just the select few who can't grasp that I'm not gay and don't need sexual offers from creepy men on a daily basis... thank you.—Anonymous