This was years and years ago.  I was a  college student.  My parents had “sent me away” to live with my older sister for the Summer, I think to keep me away from my boyfriend.   They didn’t send me far away or  for long enough.  They should have put me in a time machine and sent me to the future, just to get a glimpse as to how things might turn out if I stayed with that boyfriend.   Now he’s  my ex-husband, but I digress.

I was lured to my sister’s city with the promise of getting a Summer camp counseling job with my brother-in-law, who headed a Summer program for inner-city youth.   Once I arrived, however, it became clear that there was no such job.   So, stuck in a city where I knew no one but my sister, who was married and ten years older than me,  and while I was still stuck in a relationship where I was not “allowed” to drink or even go out, really,  I decided to take whatever job I could get just to pass the time.

The job I got was at a downtown  fast food restaurant, Burger King.  The kind folks at Burger King  issued me a hideous brown? orange? yellow? UGLY polyester uniform with a matching hat.   The manager placed me “up front” as a cashier, taking orders.  The people who were already working “in the back” making burgers were not thrilled about this, suggesting (well, actually saying)  that I thought I was better than they were because I was from the north and a college girl. We were in the deep south, you see.   Whatever.  I went where I was told.

It was busy downtown eatery, during the lunch rush there were often lines at the register and a wait for food.  And there I was,  standing behind the register, with my fitted polyester uniform (I vaguely remember getting it a size too small so I could at least show my figure)  along with my matching hat, with one hand on the microphone and the other on the  counter waiting for the next customer.

A young man who had been patiently waiting his turn sauntered up to the counter, looked me up and down with bedroom eyes, expertly executed the mack daddy chin rub before he leaned on the counter, gave me the “up” nod and asked, simply,

“So . . . do you work here?”  

I lost it.  That cracked me the hell up!  It was the best laugh I’d had in a long time.  I almost gave him my number right then and there, boyfriend be damned.

Looking back now, I wish I had.

Just Me With . . . the best pick up line . . . ever.  

What’s your favorite pick up line?

Bad pick up attempts: The Landscaper Guy