The Hookers Beat Me Up

DATE:  August 16, 2011
WHO:  Julie the Wife
WHERE:  Archbold, Ohio
WHAT:  Reporting from Hooker Convention
(THE JOKE:  It's a Rug Hooking Convention.  Just sucked the fun right out of it for you, huh?  But you would expect that from a good hooker.  That will be $20.)

It is 11:25 p.m. in Mennonite country, and I am sore all over from my hooker convention.  I drove all day with the woman who used to be the Head Hooker, and is now training me to be the hooker she was and more.  She can't carry any of our equipment, because, as one would expect in our profession, her cyatic nerve is shot.  I unloaded about 300 pounds of equipment, neatly split into about 6 boxes, out of the car and into the Hooker Hall.

Not all of the customers pay with cash or check anymore.   About 95% of our business is done by credit card, and as I mentioned yesterday, my wireless credit card terminal gave me a message that made us think it had a virus.  Again, not a surprise in our line of work.  The bank museum brought me carbon paper credit card slips, so that's what I have to use.  I just spent the past hour hand entering all of the effing information onto our online cc provider, which I can't use because I can't get wireless in the exhibition area.  But I'm not bitter and that's what's important.

The first guy today to walk up to my booth had a big pin on that said, "I'm a Happy Hooker!" and then he looked at me and said, "I'm pissed off at you guys!  You went out of business, I bought a different brand, and then you are back in business!"  (My company bought the rights to wool cutting equipment made by another Iowa company that went out of business due to the passing of the owner - I'm sorry, Tony, that a man's death was inconvenient for your rug hooking purchases.) I said, "But I can sell you a t-shirt that says, "I'm a Happy Hooker!" and he growled at me and said, "I notice you didn't offer to trade me for my other cutter." and walked away. 

NO, ASSHOLE, I DIDN'T.  Because we don't MAKE that crappy cutter.  No trade.  This is not the Wild West.  We are not working in beaver pellets (or ARE we?).  I am going to find TONY tomorrow and rip that effing Happy Hooker pin right off of his gnomey chest.  I wish he would've spat on the ground in my direction. I would've gotten great satisfaction from that.

All of the other hookers seemed happy and satisfied.  I'll take a picture of me tomorrow in our fancy new t-shirt we are selling.  I'm sure you will ALL want one - they make great gifts!