Pajama Drama

| Working | April 13, 2014

(I work at a nice golf course restaurant as a waiter. I’m at my table, wrapping things up. I’m a 21-year-old man.)

Me: “Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?”

Woman: “You can watch my kids!”

Me: “Ooh, I’m working right now, but after work, sure. We’ll have a pajama party!”

(Very awkward silence follows. The word ‘pizza’ was going through my head, but I changed it on the fly because, how stupid, they just ate and wouldn’t want a pizza-party while full. So I replaced ‘pizza’ with the word ‘pajama’ due to the ‘P’ sound having already escaped my mouth. I’ve never seen her or her eight- and five-year old sons since.)

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