I went to the ABC store (state run liquor stores in North Carolina) last night and I was the only customer. One of the clerks was seated on a box by the entrance, resting, I suppose, next to the Gin wall. and the other one was at his post behind the register. Both men were older and african american. As I made my way over to Vodka they continued the conversation they were having prior to my entrance. “yeah she never did anything with me,” said the register clerk. I pegged him for early 50s.

I picked up my Smirnoff and made it over to Liqueurs. The seated clerk who i think was in his late 50s early 60s let it be known he’d had far more progress with this particular person. I pretend not to hear any of the discussion, greatly assisted by being struck immobile at the price of Godiva Chocolate Liqueur. The standing clerk sniffed, “that’s because you ate that P***y! I don’t do that!” Chuckles of complicity come from the gin corner.

I’m like, Dang! I’m a customer! Decorum, please? Then I looked at them and wondered, “Is that gonna be me one day?”