Strip Clubs and Alien Fish
As is the nature of working temporary assignments, co-workers come and go. As Edward Norton’s Fight Club character would say, they are, in some capacity, single serving. Some of the projects last a week; some, 4 months. And if the universe’s luck algorithm favors you, you will be blessed with the undesirable coworkers only on the former.
One of the shortest projects I decided to undertake was a 13 day project. The 150 of us had all (idiotically) committed to working 12-15 hour days for 13 days in a row without a single day off. If that wasn’t bad enough, sitting next to random people you have just met for the duration of the assignment can be a form of hell that even Dante hadn’t imagined. Luckily, Jason had claimed the seat to my right. To my left was Kelvin - someone whose face I vaguely recognized from a former project and who had previously struck me as a tad bit slow on the social uptake. As with every instance of judging someone after an extremely limited experience, I decided that I owed Kelvin some more time before I knew for sure.
A couple of days passed. I still wasn’t sure what I thought of the guy. Then, on our third day, a subject came up that is inevitable as a queer girl sitting between two straight men: strip clubs. Jason and I don’t have anything against strip clubs, but neither of us is very excited about the thought of going. Neither of us will ever go unless a good friend’s semi-important event dictates that our attendance is mandatory. Kelvin, who lives in Jersey, started to name establishments in Jersey that he frequents – frequently. I wasn’t sure just how frequently this decently attractive, educated, single man in his 30s felt the need to pay people to give him attention. Then he told me why he liked strip clubs. “It’s just a nice place to go and unwind, to relax. You know, the ambiance.” The best part? He was serious. At least the men who tell me they like strip clubs for the chicken wings know they aren’t fooling anyone. I won’t blame someone for enjoying a good view while eating some damn good wings, but this guy really believed the “ambiance” was the selling point for a post work, relaxing, and unwinding trip to a strip club.
I thought no one could top this absurd conversation. Then the girl to his left, Dory, did something to turn my expectations completely upside down. (Before you continue reading, keep in mind we are all attorneys. Which means we all had to get a bachelor’s degree in something, and spend 3 years in law school, then pass the bar exam, and become certified by a committee on character and fitness.)
Dory: Do you want some Shrimp Chips? Me: No, thank you. I’m vegetarian. Dory: Shrimp isn’t meat. It’s fish.
I figured she was someone (like many who don’t spend much time around vegetarians) who was just not well versed in the differences between “vegetarian”, “pescatarian”, “omnivore” and “carnivore”. No big deal, I see it all the time. Nothing a little vegetarianism-education can’t fix!
Me: I’m a vegetarian, which means I don’t eat meat of any kind. Dory: Well, fish isn’t meat. I went to Catholic school growing up, and on the days where we weren’t allowed to eat meat, they served fish, so fish isn’t meat.
Okay, so she had a religious education that maybe defined things a bit differently. I can see how she might be confused. Hell, I’m sure if I was told fish wasn’t meat by my school every day for 12 years, I might not understand the difference either. Again, not a huge deal. Nothing a little more vegetarianism-education can’t fix… right?
Me: I think that may be a religious definition, but in actuality, meat is generally defined as the flesh of an animal for consumption. Dory: Fish aren’t animals.
Okay. I am officially stumped. Fish aren’t animals? Jason and I looked at each other. Maybe she meant fish aren’t mammals? That could be an easy to explain oversight?
Me: Fish aren’t animals? Dory: No. They’re fish. Me: Right, but fish are part of the animal kingdom. They aren’t birds, or mammals, but they fall under the umbrella of animals. As do humans. Dory: No. Fish aren’t animals. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll Google it.
Jason, Kelvin, and I are just staring in utter disbelief at each other at this point. Jason, who has a 5 year old son, called home to ask him if he would call a fish an animal. He was doing what most 5 year olds do on a beautiful summer day – he was playing. While we were waiting to get a text back from his wife with the answer, Dory piped up again, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief.
Dory: Guys, Google says fish is an animal. But they’re wrong.
How does someone go through 19 years of schooling, 7 of which were college-level or higher, in America and not know that a fish is an animal? I know the American education system is far, far behind most of the rest of the world, but this much?
We gave up. What else do you do?
So, while surrounded for 15 hours a day by fully licensed New York attorneys, I learned two things: strip clubs have a great “ambiance” and “fish aren’t animals”.
Yah, that happened.