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Mother take a step closer to the greatest taboo.

All the while meticulous dude still hadn't found his voice. I guess he didn't know what the fudge was going on. Not that I did, anyway. No matter what, getting called by that derisive nickname got me going. You won't believe how fast I hustled over to the buffet to get his coffee. Mr. Meticulous ordering a mint tea almost got lost in the shuffle there.

With the fakest smile ever, I presented Sharkboy with his coffee. After all, I was desperately set on making up for my boner, I mean blunder. Duh! So what did I do? By default, I tried giving him a boner by making sure to brush my long fake Leopard-print nails over the back of his hand when I handed him the cup.

Damned bimbo buzz! Get a grip, girl! That was Consultant-me literally screaming murder 'cause it was the kinda behavior my professionalism totally forbade. Now, it was too late, though, 'cause I was already hearing a derogatory huff from the young dude. At least, I managed to quickly move on to the next sales rep before I made another silly blunder. Phew!

The middle-aged dude sported a blue shirt and yellow tie 'power dress'. In combination with his fat pot belly, it totally made him look like a stereotypical sales squid. So not a bitching prospect! Whatever! Most importantly, I didn't want to repeat my mistake with him. After all, I had an out-please-ment center to win.

"So... mister. How can I, you know, be of any kinda ass-istance 'n stuff, like totes?" I mumbled.

Holy fudge! How had this happened? I had been so focused on avoiding my sexist stewardess phrase that I had started babbling like a bimbo again. Why the hell was it so hard for me to focus on more than one thingie? Why was it so hard for me to appear somewhat competent?

Girl, you earned excellent grades in college. You were a tough-as-nails consultant not that long ago. You can be competent in everything if you work hard for it. That was what Consultant-me quibbled. Actually, though, that was totally like ages ago. Looking pretty is way easier than working and lots more rewarding. That was Bimbo-me responding. So frustrating! So annoying! Not annoying, however, was Mr. Squid's reaction 'cause he seemed too modest to exploit the situation and simply ordered some soda pop. Easy-peasy!

With that, there were only two guys left. Before addressing the next-to-last dude, I had to brace myself. After all, my embarrassment and frustration were growing to new heights, which were two emotions I felt despite my bimbo haze. As a result, I had given up on all the multitasking and followed Ortega's instructions instead.

"Coffee, tea, or me?" I finally asked as clearly as I could manage.

The guy must have been 50ish and appeared like a slimey weasel who would do anything to make a sale. Mr. Weasel didn't respond at once, though. Not 'cause he was too stunned, but rather 'cause he was enjoying the way I was killing myself here. To express that, he clasped his hands behind his head with his elbows flung out. What a typical male posture!

With the slimey dude in waiting position, the last guy leant forward like he was feigning interest and sized me up extensively. He seemed my age and looked like a small, sneaky man who was literally speaking with a forked tongue. Just the same, I was eying him suspiciously, 'cause I somehow recognized him. I just couldn't tell from where or when.

"So, what would you offer me for not choosing the third option?" The sneaky dude asked.


The moment I heard his voice, I remembered. Mr. Reptile wasn't just my age, he was actually a fellow student from college. Back in the day, he had dated my best friend. He had been an insufferable douchebag then, and by the looks of it, he still was today. But where was he coming from? For sure, he hadn't been one of the nine salesmen we had welcomed on the parking lot. Oh right! There were ten sales reps present. He must have been the one arriving via the front entrance.

Wake-up call!

If I remembered him, chances were high that he might remember me too.

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