The Lucrative Eyelash Flutter

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In my line of work building rapport with the banks is vital for being good at my job.

Loosely translated?

I have to flirt with the bank representatives so I can get loans bought at the bank. This means I am required to go out to lunch with them at cheesy Italian restaurants and make them laugh and love me. (Please note: I said love me, not my boobies.)

My job is considerably easier since I have a gorgeous sister who the banks already love. Which means we go out to lunch with them together and dazzle them with our beauty. She dazzles with her worldy-wise wisdom and I with my (seemingly) innocent face and demure looks.

I purposely wore a high necked top today because the last thing I want is the legend of my boobies preceding before me. You know exactly what I mean. Someone meets you and says delightedly "Oh, YOU'RE the one who..." and then trails off. Never finishing their sentence because you BOTH realize what they were going to say. This is where my brother would insert a wry:

"awkward moment"

That's the thing. There must be no awkward moments. No gazing off into the distance or your soup. Must maintain direct eye contact and keep them peppered with interesting questions. The flattery of having two intelligent and beautiful women keep their undivided attention glued on you must certainly be worth the price of the lunch. I say this because these bankers make a habit of repeating this little scenario several times a year.

After lunch, he sits in front of my desk and makes conversation while I typed busily--but by no means uninterestedly--while he amuses himself and supposedly me. He offers to teach me how to play golf. Golf? How clever! I would love to learn!

I tapping away at my computer. Every moment must be gentle and sweet. Every answer demure.

He peruses the pictures arranged on my credenza. Comments on the beauty of my other sisters, the cute nephew and the one black and white picture remaining from my modeling days. Erg. I hate to start that whole conversation. Yes, it's me. Yes, I was blond. Yes... I was a model for a bit.

Admitting you were once a model can work as a double edged sword. The last impression I want to give is that I was a loose tramp whose muffin shop was open to anyone who asked for a baked good. But, it also can be an intriguing bit of trivia that helps them find me more glamorous and mysterious. Today I admit it, but downplay it.

We chat for a bit longer. A loan comes across my desk after a short examination, he quickly approves it and then settles back in his chair and remarks " really are a beautiful woman."

Yes. My work here is done.

7 Responses to “The Lucrative Eyelash Flutter”

  1. Anonymous Twiglett 

    Harumph. I am glad the lunch was so enjoyable for you. I got to come back to my manager storming around so hard the the tile floor was echoing!

    I didn't ask him the right way if I could leave to go to lunch, and i left him in the lurch with a customer: WITH A 777 FUCKING BEACON!

    Anyway, you at least didn't have to sit next to the bank guy trying to play footsie with you the whole lunch hour!!!

  2. Anonymous steelcowboy 

    Well, we use all the skills we are given,no?

  3. Anonymous pukey 

    um, HELLO??

    i'm still waiting for my commentary on last night. . .

  4. Anonymous TSOF 

    You modeled? What agency? What magazine? Or were you just a student? Cuz ya know just becaus eI'm in med school doesn't make me a doc... yet :0)

  5. Anonymous Porkchop 

    Twiglett- You love it and you KNOW it. As for the manager... you alredy know my feelings on him.

    SC- Yes, well, that's more Twiglett's department. I like to ride on her coattails when it comes to the seduction of bank officers.

    Pukey- The first part is here, I'm still working on the second...

    TSOF- If a real model is defined as one who gets paid for modeling then yes, I was a real model. I was called a model, I submitted a tax paperwork on my wages, my agency called me a model and they asked me to teach. But, eh, I don't really care if I'm not considered a real model. You can make that call.

  6. Anonymous Sparkle 

    To TSOF - Have you ever SEEN PorkChop? Obviously not, She's gorgeous. Intelligent to boot, which that you definitely should have picked up from her blog!
    IF you MAKE it to being a Doctor I hope to hell it's not here! I wouldn't help you keep your practice afloat.

  7. Anonymous joy 

    TSOF: Apparently, being in med school doesn't make you a good speller, either.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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