Let me walk you through this sordid little occurence: I'm hanging out doing my security thing tonight, having only been there maybe an hour or so at this point, just kinda settling into the "leave me alone/except for my required professional politeness" mentality when our head chef, who's apparently hanging out off shift and getting wasted, is standing near me talking to a manager who's actually working, and sober. He's not talking to me, but he's talking easily loud enough for me to hear -- he'd only commented to me, as it happens, about what the weather was like for chrissakes. Man, I must be more standoffish than I imagine.

Anyways, get this: He starts telling the other dude a story about me. Yeah, that was kinda weird.

See, for whatever reason our place is fanatically popular with bachelorette parties. We had like three or four that I noticed just tonight, one group of which was throwing a blowup doll with a dildo on it around the dance floor (confiscated) and another towards the end of the night began chanting some Wisconsin college's cheers -- I mean, doing the claps and arm gestures and the whole bit. We had to remind them this was a club and not a stadium.

Anyways. Chef guy was talking about the hordes of drunk and unruly women that made up these bachelorette groups, and how much fantastically higher their presence made the odds of any random guy getting laid on any random night. To support his claim, he's retelling (and mistelling) this bit from a few weeks ago, where a bride-to-be was flirting with me a bit in front of one of the other security guys.

She probably was a bit friedlier than her now-husband would have cared to see, but it really wasn't all that big a deal. But owing to the way these things get blown out of proportion in the retelling (or maybe just to the chef's wanting me to say something) in his version the girl actually just came out and said, "I just want to fuck someone one last time before I get hitched," or something to that effect.

Nope, the closest to that she said was something like, "I'll keep you in mind if I decide to stray," or something to that effect. Yeah, real classy.

Anyway, the chef was just incredulous over all this, having included the physical flirtations and such that actually did happen. Mostly, he was incredulous because "this security guy" he was talking about "just let her get away", wich also is true.

"Man!" says he. "How could you not close the deal in a situation like that?!"

The other manager agreed. "... there's certainly plenty of places you could take her." (You know, bathrooms, closets, employee smoking areas, that sort of thing. As I say, classy.)

So as they're not actually talking to me, and theoretically not talking about me, I didn't actually feel any need to answer the question at all. But I did in my head. And I gotta tell ya -- I'm still none too pleased at what popped up.

"How could you not close the deal?!"

"... because I'm not that kind of guy."

Yeah, I know. Mortified. Seriously.

Earlier this week? Some lady in her late 30's/early 40's who was kinda hoochied up and quite sloshed began a sentence with, "I'll suck your cock, if..."

Um. I granted her request, but not for that reason. But, apparently some other security guy did her in the ladies room not much later, so I'm sure she couldn't have been too disappointed.