At the time Mr. Happy sold these so-called wonderful products that can't be sold in stores. I'm sorry but except for a piece of ass or illegal drugs, all of my personal needs can be purchased at the local WalMart. Anyway, Mr. Happy's products can only be purchased from reps and he cons more people to sign on and then he makes more money and so on. He told me he really wanted to take out to dinner or something, but he really had to be here for this presentation.
I didn't complain or walk out. I was merely the most annoying, disruptive potential client they had ever seen.
I believe my crowning moment came when the presenter talked about the toothpaste they sold. He held up a tube of Crest (which is my brand, so don't be saying nothing bad about Crest) and proceeded to tell the group that you shouldn't want to put something in your mouth that has a warning label "do not swallow." I argued with the presenter that a douche goes in my body, but I don't swallow that either, and it doesn't make it unsafe. Douche isn't a good word to say aloud in a business meeting with a lot of men around. Mr. Happy shot me a withering glance, and I knew this pseudo-date was over.
Personally, I think it was a really shitty thing to use your date to further gain on the job. Mr. Happy isn't the only man to use to his job to manipulate. There was the personal ad date, Jay, who told me about his job in great detail so he could then count our lunch date as a business meeting and deduct the expense.
I'm all for saving a buck where you can. If your job provides you with gift certificates or movie passes or baseball tickets, there is nothing wrong with using them on a date. If you work in a restaurant, it's OK to dine there as long as it's your day off and you aren't pulling double duty as date and server. I would even consider taking someone I've been dating for awhile to a company function, like a cookout. Your job is your job and your social life is your social life, and the twain shall meet ... but only in appropriate situations.
I hadn't thought about Mr. Happy in a long time, and I actually don't care what happened to him. He was a master liar and con man, as well as being in a weird sort of perpetually happy mood that would make a Stepford wife proud, (maybe he started ingesting that natural toothpaste he was shilling), which probably means he's made a fortune in sales of some kind. I just hope he's having a bad hair day.
As for me, I'm about to go to work. Alone. No date.
contact erma p. sanders: firstname.lastname@example.org