Bad Day: #4

Last January, I wrote three posts entitled Bad Day (i.e., #1, 2 and 3 respectively) and somehow I had forgotten this little tale -- maybe I had thankfully suppressed the horror. The memory of it arose recently when I read on a friend's Facebook "25 random things about me" note that he was a "debutante escort" in his late teens.

When I was in my mid-20s, my girlfriend Meg talked me into a girls' night out (GNO). I had zero interest in going because it was to her roommate's boyfriend's work Christmas party (yawn!) but she is extremely persuasive and I ended up reluctantly agreeing. The premise was that every year the party is boring with a capital B because none of the guys have dates so, because Andy was bringing Leanne this particular year, she was encouraged to bring all of her friends. Free meal. Free drinks. Whatever.

The night of the party, Leanne and another girl showed up at my apartment to pick me up. Note: Everyone else backed out. Note #2: Even MEG! Note #3: I didn't know either of these girls well at all. What the . . . ? Why didn't Meg call me? Why am I going out??

So we arrived on the late side at a Japanese restaurant and the description was right: It's only men at this party. Literally. We were the only three women there. We didn't even have a chance to order drinks when we were whisked off to dinner -- at separate tables. What? I can't even sit with my friends?

The minute I was seated, the man next to me asked, "Are you a professional stripper or just an escort?"

Uhhhhhh, I think you have me confused with someone else.

It turns out that the business owner a) usually hired "talent" for the night and decided not to this year, b) didn't let the clients know, c) didn't let us know and, most importantly, d) didn't allow any of the men to bring their wives. Lucky us.

Well, doesn't that make for awkward conversation at the dinner table?! To make matters worse, seated at my table were some of the company's clients. From where you may ask? Why Eastman Kodak, of course. Where I worked. Big company, yet, small enough that I saw all of them in the cafeteria the very next day. I was beyond mortified because I wasn't sure if they bought my "story" or not. To this day, I am shaken to the core just thinking about it.

Back to the party. As we were walking out the door, the business owner followed us into the coat room and asked us how much he owed us for the night. Wait? What? Leanne's friend was joining Oak Hill at the time and this dude was actually a member. She was aghast and positively refused to take his money. I simply asked, "How much are you offering?" and pocketed all the cash that he held out.

I figured that I had had a lot of crappy dates in my life; I may as well get paid for one.

Yep, the one thing missing from my list of "25 random things about me" because it requires an in-depth explanation: I was once a paid escort. Poor guys who were expecting something entertaining! The holiday party from hell.