Fear & Loathing At Franklin Mills

At one time, Franklin Mills Mall touted itself as the top tourist attraction in Philadelphia. The mall in Far, Far Northeast Philadelphia not only has the lightning bolt-shaped mall, but also a Wal-Mart (in the former Carrefour), a gym and an old movie theater turned into a church. A church!

Each week, a PW intern who would like to remain anonymous will share a short story from working at Franklin Mills for the past several years.

Way back in November, a new store opened in Franklin Mills. Though I won’t mention the name of it – because they still pay me and PW, ya know, doesn’t – I will say that this store carries female undergarments.

This first weekend, I yank the gate open at 10 a.m. to open the store. The first customer walks in seconds later: a skinny, bespectacled dude wearing acid washed jeans and loafers. He’s slightly awkward; the kind of guy you assume still tucks his pastel polo shirt into his superhero boxers.

He makes a beeline for the back corner and immediately crouches down to inspect a large pair of panties that can be best described as the kind your grandmother would wear. Being a good little sales representative, I hustle over to ask if he needs assistance, but he refuses. Half an hour later, he brings his selection – a pink micro denier thong – to the cash register. I take his $4.99, throw the thong in a bag and thank him for choosing the store.

This is where it gets creepy.

Then, he asks for a fitting room. Since this is the inaugural weekend, the “chicks only” rule has not yet been established. I have to let him in. He emerges twenty minutes later. As he walks past me on his way out the door, he turns to me and says, “Oh, it’s nice. It’s very, very nice.”

So, I guess I was wrong. He definitely doesn’t tuck that polo into his boxers.