A Model Employee

(I work in a computer store in a department where we sell computer parts. We assist customers in picking out parts and sometimes assist with actually putting the computer together as well. Assisting a customer with a complete build is a long process, and often takes a few hours — sometimes a few hours on multiple days. I have been working with this one customer for two hours at this point, and until now he has been completely normal. We have parts for nearly the entire build picked out, and the only thing left is a wireless card, because he wants his desktop to have wi-fi.)

Customer: “Have you ever been a model?”

Me: “No, not really—”

Customer: “You should be a model.”

Me: “Haha. I’m not interested in—”

Customer: “I’m an artist.”

(I don’t respond. This customer has quickly been getting creepier. For some reason, he changes his entire way of speaking when this exchange begins. He starts speaking more nasally, and elongating the vowels in words. Plus, he cuts me off when I respond to him.)

Customer: “I’m an artist. You should let me draw you.”

Me: “Sir, I’m really not interested–”

Customer: “I can pay you 50 dollars to come to my studio. I have clothes for you, but you wouldn’t have to wear any.”

(While he’s saying this, a coworker, also a woman, happens to come across us and addresses him.)

Coworker: “Sir—”

Customer: “Ugh, I don’t want YOU. Whatever.”

(He turned and left in a huff. He didn’t buy anything, of course.)