“OK, so I don’t know anything you’re talking about, but please continue,” said the stout forty-something blonde woman in Conference Room A. The staff of the box office and the call center were called in for a meeting to improve our customer service skills. The title? Top of Mind: Realizing The Inner You.

My Inner Me was catching some Inner Z’s – after staying up until 2:00am last night worrying about this Hurrydate experience, I was anything but up for playing rah-rah-sis-boom-bah to my co-workers and manager. But this was for the good of the company. Whatever.

I scrawled out a little doodle/caricature of the speaker with a fishing rod and fishing line coming out everyone’s mouth. Just as I was putting the finishing touches on my boss’ hook in the mouth, she walked over.

“And Karsh, what are you drawing here?” She took the paper and held it up for all to see. I felt like I was back in Mrs. Shearer’s fourth grade class. “Someone’s not paying attention to their Inner Me. Do you know what my Inner Me is saying?”

“No.”

“It’s saying ‘Shari, let’s do some role-playing to pep everyone up!’” She had to be kidding. Getting a room of adults to play the roles of good customer service people? And we weren’t getting paid? Many opted to just leave during the intermission. I was one of those.

So I walked down 15th Street to the Arts Center MARTA station when I got a call from Doo-Wop. Turns out he got his ex’s BMW for the night, so we could drive to the Hurrydate in style.

“Great!” I replied. “I need us to swing by my place so I can make Costume Change #3.”

“Cool. I’m going to keep my work clothes on because I don’t feel like changing. And this will be suitable for tonight.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re at NNP and I’m trying to pick out an alternate to Costume #3, which was a blue linen oxford shirt with grey dress slacks and my Giorgio Brutini oxfords.

“How about this?” Doo-Wop said holding out my red Triple 5 Soul shirt.

“Nah…too flashy. Ah…this is perfect.” It was the shirt I bought from T-Shirt Hell. On the front it read “I’m what Willis was talkin’ ’bout.” Too funny. I grabbed that and a pair of jeans in case the dress code ended up being more casual than what I already had on.

So we hopped in the BMW and jetted down to 13th Street. Finding the place was half the battle – I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t have the address because I left it at home.

“Just look for something that looks like a gay bar,” said Doo-Wop.

“We’re in Midtown. Could you be more specific?” Eventually we found it – a 1920’s styled house with a gang of cars parked. Nice cars too – SUV’s, Infinitis, Benzes…you name it. We parked and walked up to the place.

“You know, we could just go for wings at Friday’s if you’re not feeling this…,” I said.

“No, let’s do it. Who knows? We might be pleasantly surprised.”

I figured if he could go through with it, so could I. I swallowed any anxiety I had and stepped cautiously inside. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened next….

TO BE CONTINUED