I think I’ve become very unsociable in my old age. Last night, I had to virtually drag myself kicking and screaming (not actually screaming, but grumbling very loudly) to have drinks with a couple of my colleagues in some bar (super branché as it was described to me by my boss, that is, very hip and happening) in downtown Geneva.
You know, the type of bar where cool round-edged designer furniture blends in with a young unusually chirpy blond crowd with hair gelled up into trendy spikes, and popular techno music playing in the background rendering conversations of any kind to be a complete waste of time. But why venture into a conversation when you have all this eye candy around you?
Well, I wasn’t a happy camper. First of all, I was suffering from a sore throat but having dodged 2 former invitations from my boss, I thought that I should at least make an appearance this time round. On top of that, who goes out on a work night especially when you have to get up early for work the next day?
Hmm, maybe I am getting old.
Anyway, this so called super branché bar was full of young blond 20-something year old female employees with nicely bronzed OVERSIZED breasts falling out of too-tight mini white tops. I’m not judging, just merely remarking.
It must have been on the job advertisement
“Hip bar in downtown Geneva looking for 20-something year old waitresses. Must have ENORMOUS bronzed breasts and be prepared to wear child-size tops with plunging cleavages. Experience NOT needed.”.
Needless to say, with my voice slowly losing strength after 1 hour of forced conversation with 2 male colleagues (whose attention obviously wasn’t on the conversation), me and my 30-something year old, non-branché, pale, inexistent cleavage made our way past all those bronzed-ness and scrambled back to a nice warm bed.