The Feminist Vibrator Store, 1981
My job at Good Vibrations was lonely in 1981. Sometimes I’d have one customer per day. Even if they stayed for an hour or two, I had lots of time to sit there and think about what they said.
“My husband has died and I will never achieve climax again.”
“The therapist has told me I am sexually dysfunctional and sent me here.”
“My dad’s in prison and he has a bigger dick than anything you got in here.”
I could rock their world with just a little information. One little chat, and they wouldn’t think they needed to rely on someone else for their orgasm. Nor would they remain distraught that a M.D. had “sentenced ” them to a vibrator institution. The kid who taunted me about his dad in prison and then ran out the door— I could say something kind to settle him right down. Sex education was so powerful because even the smallest effort was enlightening.
