Steak and Ail
Scene: Super expensive restaurant in a super expensive hotel hosts members of the media for a free dinner. No one attending could afford this place on their meager salaries, but everyone plays along and dresses up for the occasion. Then there's me.
Me: Hello. I'm here for the media dinner.
Hostess Who Looks Like A Model: Of course, sir. I'll take you right back to the private dining area. Would you like me to take the gray, well-worn hoodie you're wearing back to the coat room, where it will be hung next to a hedge fund manager's Versace overcoat?
Me: Yes, please.
Hostess: Excellent. And will you be needing any spa services prior to dinner this evening? I noticed your hair looks especially frizzy, as if you haven't had a haircut in weeks. And also, your beard, if it could even be called that, looks Unabomberesque.
Me: Thank you for pointing that out. I will not be needing any of that.
Hostess: Fantastic. And if I may continue, your sneakers are a few years old and lack treads on the bottom. Would you like me to recommend a website where you can purchase some new ones? Zappos.com is quite popular, sir.
Me: Thanks.
Hostess: Anytime. I also must mention that you look lonely. Would you like me to hire a high-end escort to sit next to you at dinner and laugh at the self-deprecating jokes you make about your penis?
Me: I would.
Hostess: Great. I'm glad you can join us at dinner tonight, despite being the most broken person I've met in recent years. And I truly mean that sir. You are a mess from the inside-out.
Me: It's a honor to be here. It's also nice for a woman so pretty to be talking to me.
Hostess: Sir, I can see you trying to take a picture of me on your cameraphone.
