For some reason, there has been a flood of Englishmen in the club lately. What, cheap tickets crossing the Pond?
Anyway, recently there was this one dude who looked just like an Indian Jeff Goldblum with whom I struck up conversation. It was a mad slow day and I didn't have a whole lot of money, and I tend to do well with the brown guys. We started chatting, and he let me know he was in town from London, and wasn't interested in buying lapdances but really wanted to take me out to dinner.
Me: Sorry, I don't go out with customers.
Him: Well, technically I haven't spent any money on you, so I'm not a customer.
Me: Touche, but I don't really think I can. Sorry. (gets up to leave)
Him: No, no, please sit.
Me: Well, my shift ends in a minute, so I should probably try to make some money before I have to head home.
Him: But, seriously, how often do you meet someone like me? I mean, we're both Indian, we both seem well read. There's so much we could teach each other.
Me: I appreciate that, but you're coming on really strong and I do need to make money.
Him: Listen, I didn't get to be who I am today by taking no for an answer*. Why not just sit and have a drink with me?
Me: I'd be happy to, but again, I'm at work...
Him: Okay, I'll pay you $150 to stay an extra hour or so and drink with me.
Me: You should probably do $200, because they will charge me an extra $50 to stay past my shift.**
So I ended up sitting and drinking with him, and I still can't figure out exactly why, but I wanted to slaughter this irritating-as-fuck man. Maybe it had something to do with his constant references to his years at Cambridge and Harvard. Maybe there was something really pathetic about a grown man asking me "What are your ambitions in life? Where do you see yourself in five years?" Maybe it was that, any time I started to answer any of his contrived questions or engage in a conversation, he'd cut me off and go into a ten minute diatribe about how we should definitely go out together, spend a day together, kiss, etc. Maybe it was because he name-dropped on the Chatham House and the way the staff at Bombay's Taj Mahal hotel treat him like royalty. He also tried teaching me some principles of interpersonal communication he learned at Harvard Business School.
Anyway, a good half-hour of his paid-for-in-advance time with me was spent with him trying to convince me to skip work the next day.
Him: Come on, I'm only here in NY for another day or two. Then it's back to London.
Me: No one is saying you can't come visit me at work...
Him: I don't want to see you there... It's not the kind of interaction I want. I just want to have lunch and drinks, take you shopping.
Me: Sorry, I have to go to work. I have customers who are expecting me and money to make.
Him: Well, I'm willing to skip work for you; you should be able to do the same for me.
Me: Well, I'd be foregoing hundreds of dollars at work and I'd be fined by the club for being absent, and as a grad student, I just can't forego that kind of money.
Him: Please, I know you're well-to-do. You're not broke.
Me: (resists the urge to tell him that's none of his business) You know what? Maybe we should just say our goodbyes tonight.
Him: Okay, I'll give you a thousand bucks for bunking work tomorrow. I promise, no sex, and we can stay in public the whole time.
(lather, rinse, repeat about a dozen times and you have a sense of our conversation)
It just so happens that he DID show up at work the next day. I greeted him warmly and said I was so happy he changed his mind. He told me "I just came to talk, no dances or anything." So I told him the club did not allow us to sit with guys and chat and went and sat alone in the corner. He kept trying to wave me over and tell me to come talk to him. Finally he caved, walked over, and said "fine, give me a dance." Halfway through the dance, we decided to take it to the champagne room, where the asshole kept trying to finger me!!! I was so disgusted by him, and by his arrogance at telling me that I "didn't know how to accept pleasure" and that he "could make me feel really good if only I'd let him."
Before he left he offered me his silk tie as a parting gift/souvenir. I told him to go hang himself with it. (Okay, I didn't really say that...)
* Yes, he actually said that.
** Not true, but I was charging him an "asshole" tax.
