June 30, 2008 | Leave a Comment

I was out of town on business with Tammy when the client asked if we had any plans for the evening. We didn’t so she invited us to dinner and a show. She was new to the area and had been told that there was a great club that was safe, but in the seedier part of town.  We accepted (mostly because it was a client asking).  When we arrived at the club, our waitress seated us.  I was the first to notice that all of the waitresses in this particular club had one thing in common: an adam’s apple.  That’s right.  It was a female impersonator’s club.  So I said, “You know what I like the most about this place?  No one here is wondering if I’m a dude. You two, on the other hand, are still within the sphere of suspicion.” That’s when they both realized what I was seeing.  Tammy particularly liked it when our waitress sat on my lap to take our order.  “I think she likes you,” Tammy said with a wink.  “It’s just nice to be appreciated,” I quipped back.  Two hundred fifty four dollars, fifteen martinis and a ribbon on the client’s chest for “the best fake orgasm” later, we stumbled out of the place looking for a cab to take us back to the hotel.  On the ride back, the client was having some cognitive dissonance regarding the evening’s events.  I reassured her by explaining that Tammy and I worked for Doogleheimer and Schmitt.  “We don’t carry camera phones or Slackberries.  We’re BlackBookBerry users so what happened in there, stays in there.”

We signed the deal the next morning.

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