Saturday, August 15, 2009

Not Your Dealer

"I am flattered that you think I am cool enough to ask, but I am afraid that I do not have a joint to sell to you for $20. I am also regretful that I will have to turn down the $20 finder's fee for asking my staff if they have one. Your boldness to ask is admirable, but I do not recommend walking around the streets at night trying to find one. An unscrupulous homeless person might offer you a great deal, but you may end up being directed into an alley and leave with only a few lumps on your head instead of a mellow buzz."

I guess I must look like the kind of guy you could ask. It must the blond shaggy hair and sleepy eyes. At another property I was training a teenage bellman and he asked me where the best place to smoke pot in the building without getting caught. All I could tell him was that I had no idea, but so far he was certainly going about it wrong. The kid was dumb and hilarious. We called him Master Blaster for some reason. Master Blaster used to always complain about some dude who stole his girlfriend. He would go on and on (at our encouragement) about challenging new boyfriend to boxing matches and blowing up his car.

"How would blowing up his car get your girlfriend back?"

"Uh, I don't know. Guess it wouldn't. But at least he wouldn't have a car to pick her up in."

Unfortunately, our time with Master Blaster was cut short by untimely termination.

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