winningandgrinning

“Women by the dozen, Money by the TON!”

–Morris Day and the time, “cool.”

The cleaning lady was screaming, the four girls from san diego were near naked, and my life was finally following the Mike Tyson self destruction play book. If you are going to get fired, don’t just get fired, get banned from at least 4 properties if you can. I think at last count, I was not only jobless, but I had lost my visitor privelages to at least 12 venues in Las Vegas. That or if I showed up a nice large man would escort me to my car or intensive care depending on his blood sugar levels.

Banned, and canned. In that order.

Since you are five years old, they tell you, this is the girl’s room, and this is the boy’s room. Girl’s. Boy’s. Not a real hard concept, even if you are special. The English as a Second language kids get it, and they can’t read english. There is a little man, just in case you are dyslexic. There is no way you can make that mistake.

Which explains why the cleaning lady, who had unfortunately stumbled on my performance art piece, was screaming like Marie Laveau had come back from the dead to cast voodoo spells on her. I could have used Marie’s guidance. One curse, one spell, anything would have helped. I was caught red handed, surrounded by the friendliest people I had ever met. This was all a mistake, I could easily explain it all away. Charm, I needed charm.

GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

Plan B. I was confronted with an irate cleaning lady who was still trying to take the trash out. For those scoring at home, I was the trash in this situation. When you are caught in the girl’s bathroom, and you are not a girl. A lot of thoughts run through your mind. Processing was not going as well as I had hoped. This was a pressure situation, and I was playing my best Floyd Mayweather, concentrate there has to be a solution. Just swallow hard, face your fear, and tell the nice screaming lady that this is all a mistake.

gulp.

I looked the cleaning lady right in the eye, and like the man I am, ran out the door like a distressed teenager running from leatherface. It was all going to be ok. No one was going to know, problem over. I was pleased to have survived. with my job?

“You are so good at being a cabana boy, maybe you could try and be our shower boy? My three girlfriends. My three girlfriends. My three girlfriends.”

Four girls and me. Shower time. Lost job if you get caught? What would Jesus do?

My three girlfriends are waiting in there. We are gonna need some help, washing all the hard to reach places. My girlfriends are a little tipsy, we may have drank too much at your pool. You were not very good at watching out for that. Yes we need you to help, because…. I think we are very dirty.” She smiled drunkenly.

no shit.

This was now or never. They had checked out of their room, this could all just fade away. Be patient. You got all summer, there will be other chicks. There will be more opportunities, don’t go in there. Look it says girl’s on that sign. You are boy. Not Girl. You big dummy.

I made the decision to take my chances, and that is when…. Things got real.

I am in the middle of venturing into the women’s bathroom, for shower time, with four extra friendly girls, girls who are more than willing to entertain. I am in a position that most men will never encounter, I should be satisfied. So why am I in the middle of hugging the girl with the fake tits, who was with the guys who worked at playboy? And why am I now making a cheap ass grab, cuz she put it on me, invading my personal space in a most exhillerating fashion? Why? because I am a pervert with an insatiable lust for dirty little petunas.

The girl I hugged/groped was not in the group participating in the showerboy outreach program, she was just another guest. I had gotten greedy, and now I was going to pay. Pigs always get slaughtered.

I had just pissed away one of the best jobs in Vegas, and for what? Shower time. No more topless girls at work. No more hook ups with guests. No more bachelorettes, no more mother’s weekends at the pool, no more ….. Depression.

They gave me a day in court, I would be put in front of the Human Resource director. I I was just suspended. My manager had managed to tell me all this without laughing, but who can blame him, he had just watched the video tape of yours truly running in and out of the girl’s room like a Somalian Penis thief.The speech I gave should have been recorded. Unable to get proper legal representation, I decided to be my own counsel. Everything I learned from My Cousin Vinny came back to my mind, and I was ready to wow this woman. My argument was fresh, original, and flawless like a teenage Mormon, The A game was to be witnessed.

“When I go to work I try to take on a persona, My intentions were always to be the most gracious host of the topless pool party. Considering that the guests are paying, I feel as if I owe them some compassion. “

Sometimes I get a little friendly.

“what we have here is a simple misunderstanding. I’m not sure why the cleaning lady was upset. Those girls are long time friends of mine.” lie. “I was just trying to recover a personal item.” Lie. “Before I took them to the airport.” lie.

“I always try to make every interaction I have in life, positive. I want to add value to everything I do.”

She took in a deep breath and smiled. I had done it. Victory. 3 Day suspension, reinstatement, REDEMPTION.

“I just have one question. What does any of this have to do with why you were in the girl’s bathroom?” and fade to black.

As another stroke of luck, the company had decided to choose separation. We were breaking up, it had been a torrid love affair, but bright stars burn out, they don’t fade away. Funny bureaucratic note. I was fired for harassment, of the very girls who asked me to soap up their back. Despite the fact that these girls emailed my boss, and accepted fault for their misconduct. Some where out there, a young man is saying their has never been a crime that fit so well. No one has ever been more deserving.

An almost irresistable urge to go back to the woman’s bathroom is brooding underneath the surface, if only to see if the cleaning lady is still telling everyone that comes in that an employee was in the bathroom. She was good enough to tell everyone who would listen, and I hope she is still telling that tale.

I was free, and had plenty of time to watch old Barbaro videos and listen to Jewel albums.

Surprised that someone would ruin my benign shower party, wondering who the cleaning lady had not ratted me out too, I had a new perspective on life. Suddenly I felt the urge to buy a Stop Snitching Tshirt.

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