It’s Easy to Talk to Women if You Know Where to Talk…

Baby, who I’ve decide to stop calling Baby and refer him as The Kid henceforth, and I were slotted to do an on-site training session today. The training was for a very simple device and would take no more than 15 minutes. Despite the brevity of the on-site visit, company policy dictates that we dress professionally. So we were asked to wear suits to work today. I don’t particularly enjoy wearing a suit, despite the fact that everyone tells me I look good. The reason behind this reluctance is simple. A necktie is impossible for me to tie correctly the first (and oftentimes second and third) time.
I can never get the length of the back part correct, and the first attempt always finds me shy about two inches of the little tuck-in tab to keep it hidden. So I untie it, and move the short end down another three inches. Most of the time, this results in the long part being too short, which just looks silly. There’s also the matter of the shape of the knot. Some guys can tie their tie-knot into a perfect equilateral triangle. I lack this ability. I’m happy if my knot isn’t TOO lopsided.
Last night, though, I had a great idea. I would tie my tie before bed, and save the five minutes of morning hassle! So last night, after Jillian’s, I got home and laid out my suit (charcoal grey), black socks, and black shoes. I picked a black shirt and a tie that ranges from black to silver to white. It might sound like a dark outfit, but it looks really nice. I tied the tie, and after three attempts was happy with the length. So I loosed it enough to pull it off without undoing the knot and hung it on my doorknob. Sometimes, I can be pretty darn smart.
This morning, I awoke, showered, and slipped into my clothes. I was dead tired, so I grabbed a coke from the fridge to get some caffeine in me. (One day, I will cave in and buy a coffee maker.) In my morning clumsiness, I spilled the coke all over myself. I’ll spare you the stream of filth that poured from my mouth at this. My shirt, tie, and suit were all unwearable at this point without cleaning.
Undaunted, I made my way to the closet, removing and dropping wet articles of clothing along the way. I grabbed black slacks, a blue shirt, and a tie that Mouth (Fisherman’s wife, so named because she can talk almost as much as Jabbers.) had picked out for me when I bought the shirt. Four attempts later, I have the tie presentable enough to leave the house. Ten minutes late.
The fog was so thick that I felt like I had walked out into a horror movie. Any second, Jason or Freddy would lunge from the thick mass of gray and butcher me. Or worse, one of the unspeakable horros from Stephen King’s “The Mist.” (It’s in Skeleton Crew, and it’s my favorite short by him.) I manage to find my truck, only twenty feet away, through the zero-visibility, and discover that there’s a traffic accident half a block from my house. I’m not going to blame this on poor driving. The fog was so thick that you could really only see about fifteen feet out. I go off-road (I love my pick-em-up truck) and wiggle around the smashed car. Two blocks later, I come upon another scene of vehicular devastation. Once more, I wiggle past by taking to the grass. (I stopped long enough at both accidents to ask if anyone needed help.) Finally, I’m on the interstate and running about fifteen minutes behind.
So I get to work, and The Kid immediately complains that he wore a suit and I didn’t. I appease his rant by relaying the story of the wayward coke, which has him laughing. He decides to remove his jacket so we’re not a mismatched pair. Now, the training is at 1:00 and should only take 15 minutes, and the drive should take roughly 20 minutes one-way. We have a meeting at 3:00, so we have to do lunch beforehand. The decision is made to go to lunch at 11:30. We’ll be done by 12:30 and at the site ten minutes early.
This raised the question which plagues everyone but me daily. What’s for lunch? I wanted to go somewhere new, and suggested Hops off the top of my head. Of course, Hops has gone away. I knew this, and think that I’m getting foggy-headed in my old age for suggesting it. Hope was replaced, on Harbison and Two Notch, with Hooters. Now there’s a new place. So The Kid and I decided Hooters was the destination.
It’s been about six years since I went to a Hooters, and I had forgotten how good the food is. Really. I’m not trying to downplay the scenery. The food is GOOD. To evidence this, the place was full of couples. The population of patrons was about 40% female. Why would a woman go to Hooters if the food wasn’t good? Now the scenery, that’s another story. Hooters Girls are always the friendliest bunch of women you’ll ever meet. I’m sure it’s to drum up bigger tips and higher merch sales, but it’s nice to have a beautiful girl act that friendly whether it’s all an act or not.
It made me decide that this is the place to go to get over a fear of talking to women you don’t know. They’re initiating the conversation. They’re almost flirting. (They might actually BE flirting, but I’m a man, so I have no way of knowing this for certain.) It’s just too easy to talk with them and too hard to be intimidated by their good looks. I had to prove it to myself before I preached it on the mountain, though. And so, wearing a tie and looking sporty, I struck up a conversation with Amanda and Amber, the two girls who were working our area.
They had assumed that The Kid and I, looking so darned sporty, were salesmen for a wireless phone company. We corrected them and explained that our jobs were not so glamorous. When they heard we knew about computers, they immediately started talking about all the problems they have with theirs. Most guys assume that a woman who hears you work with computers will write you off as a nerd. This isn’t true. I’ve found that, more often than not, they will present their technical problems to you in the hopes that you can help them. With that in mind, all Nerds should report IMMEDIATELY to Hooters.
It’s unfortunate that we only had an hour to eat, because I could’ve stayed there for much longer to chat with these girls. But we paid our ticket, leaving a generous tip, (I’m a big-tipper anyway, and The Kid also works at The Oyster Bar, so he knows the pain of bad tips.) and made our way to the site.
As expected, the training took about 15 minutes. It’s really so simple that you don’t need a manual. You just follow the prompts on the screen. Had the site we went to looked at it before we arrived, they probably would’ve called to cancel the trip because they figured it out themselves. But the training isn’t the important part about this site visit. This was a doctor’s office, and it was staffed by hotties. Once again, conversation was easy because they needed to give their attention to us. I did notice that most of the girls had rings on their fingers, but it was all good because I had no intentions beyond conversation.
The day started about as shitty as any day could, but I think I’m going to love my new job.

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