I reach for my boobs the way I always do when it’s time to close the sale or move the fuck on, but my sweater reminds me this isn’t a strip club.
“Mmmhmm,” I nod. Keep looking interested, self.
Behind him are hundreds of other men, all in black suits, and a few dozen women dressed up like Corporate Barbie for free. Usually guys like this have to pay $300/hr to talk to me. This will pay off later, I remind myself. Much, much later. Besides, even if it doesn’t I’m making a good connection.
I’d just really prefer to get the money up front or peace out.
The inability to tolerate that kind of schmoozing is probably the reason my degree has done me no good.
Hey Calvin, tell me more? What’s your degree? Is my degree gonna do me no good too?
My degree is in Communication, and it’s a BS degree in more than one sense. From reading your blogs over the years, you’ll probably do more with that than I can. After all, it’s not so different from sex work in some ways. I have a couple of issues, one fairly exotic, that make it difficult for me to handle some of the BS in the business world.