SOME GUYS JUST AREN'T CUT OUT FOR A 9 TO 5…
I think I first met Christina back in ‘05 as I was still on XY’s graduate programme at the time. Following a minor ticking off from management about my billable hours, John took me out to cheer me up and discuss what I could do to improve my stats.
Being the only male assistant manager at the time, I guess they figured he’d make the best mentor. Though had they have known of our mutual appreciation of booze and titties at the outset, I’m sure they would have reconsidered. We eventually ended up in Secrets.
If I had any idea that night how many times I’d be back; I would have tried to make a better first impression. But as you’ll note from the equation below, it wasn’t my fault.
Woeful graduate salary + unhealthy love of hookers + student Barclaycard
Derisory strip club kitty
I wasn’t quite as pathetic as I was in Prague but I was still a sucker for pretty girls who showed me any sort of attention. So when John left me on my own I knew I was fucked.
A solitary minute passed before I was duped into a dance that on reflection, was definitely a waste of money. My hope was that John would be back when Miss ‘you have no chance of ‘accidentally’ grabbing my boobs’ was done but when I returned, he was off again.
This time I stayed strong for two whole R Kelly songs and thought I was saved when John sat back down. But then SHE clocked me. For the porn enthusiasts, she looked a lot like a younger, pre boob job Brandi Love.
… brief interlude while you Google Images her…
I’m not even sure that I waited for the usual sales pitch and believe I just said “yes please” when she made eye contact with me.
Now being super-hot is one thing but you would sooner have a 7 or an 8 who knew how to ‘work it’ – I only found out years later that these were essentially all Parkers girls – over a 10 that stood five feet away and just went through the motions. So I had to have a trial run first before deciding how much of my remaining funds I would commit (excluding cab fare and the trial run, I had about £60).
Well. Not only was she a 10. But her milk shake definitely brought all the boys to the yard so I was more than happy to spend everything.
OK so she’s a brunette.
But Brandi Love never responded to my tweet!
Christina: “You know, for £100 we could go to a more private booth?”
Me: “Is THAT right?”
She was borderline dry humping me for 40 sheets. Surely there was an outside possibility of fingering for 100.
“Ok do you mind waiting here? I just want to let my boss know I could be a while?” That. And I want to ask for £40.
Christina: “Oh that guy was your boss was he?”
Me: “Yeah, why?” I responded, oblivious to how this was going to end.
Christina: “Oh no reason. See you in a bit.”
Thankfully John was still at the table and more surprisingly, he was on his own. I had just explained the pickle I was in and was about to ask for the money when I heard “So you’re Sean’s boss are you?”
Me: “Oh heeeey” I said, pretending that I was expecting her arrival. “I thought you were going to wait in the booth? Sorry. John, Christina. Christina, John.”
Christina: “Hi John” she beamed, offering out her gold-digging hand to shake his. “I was going to but then I thought I’d join you boys for a drink if that was ok?” Cue puppy dog eyes and sultry pout. Whore.
John: “Yeah, of course that’s ok. What would you like?” Mother-fucker.
All I could think about while we sat there awkwardly waiting for our drinks was; ‘yes, she was a complete gold-digger (just doing her job), but she was MY gold-digger. I saw her first so do the right thing here John. Give me the money and walk away’.
Is that what you think happened?
John: “Oh look the drinks are here. Listen, Sean mentioned something earlier about a private booth? Why don’t we have our drinks there instead?”
OH NO HE DIDN’T
Christina: “That sounds perfect.” “Have a good night sweetie” she said, winking at me as she strutted off.
I tried not to look at her in case she saw the tears of rejection in my eyes and instead glared at John, with a ‘dude, what the fuck?’ look.
John: “Sorry mate, she’s just too fit.”
Me: “I know that you dick!”
John: “I presume you’ll be gone when I get back so erm… I’ll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?”
Some bloody mentor. I was more upset now than at the beginning of the night.
And he never actually explained how I should be reporting my billable hours either.
John’s head was buried in his hands the next morning – hopefully nursing an awful hangover though potentially sniffing his fingers – but that didn’t stop me from reminding him what a wanker he was.
“Look mate, I’m sorry but I’m a tad fragile right now so can we do this later? Plus you should read my email as it might cheer you up.”
He was right. It did.
Including cab fare and late night snacks from the Esso garage, I’d spent almost £150 that night. Which may not sound like much but was a significant dent in an already drained graduate wallet; especially for such a forgettable night.
But that was nothing compared to the £680 she had fleeced him for! Apparently he didn’t even have enough for a cab and had to walk back home. Karma my friends… Karma.
As fate would have it, I would actually meet Christina again. But I guess you’re going to have to stick around to find out what happened that night.
If you liked this then I suspect you might also enjoy my book. Or not.
Either way, thanks for reading; particularly to those of you who share these stories and/or leave comments.