Lots of doctors eat in our restaurant. Every couple of weeks pharmaceutical reps drag these guys in and treat them to dinner while pitching their particular brand of poison. Audiovisual presentations are a normal part of these ethically dubious dinners and last night’s was a dooszy.
We set the medical ten top in the back so the drug pushers could set up their power point projector to display images on the side wall near the entrance to the men’s room. The doctors arrived and immediately began to wolf down copious amounts of free wine and food while a rep showed her presentation to the assembled freeloading horde.
I was up front so I didn’t hear what the topic was nor did I care. It was easy money for the restaurant and I envied the waiter who caught the table. When I checked in to see how things were going I noticed the waiter looked kind of pale. I asked him what was wrong and he said he couldn’t believe the pictures they were showing on the wall. “What kind of pictures?” I asked. The waiter leaned forward and whispered in my ear “Broken pussy.”
Dumbfounded I peered around the corner and sure enough, displayed en flagrante on the wall was a woman’s malformed genitalia oozing some kind of pus. Shit. The pharmaceutical whores were pitching some treatment for some kind of gynecological medication: just what I want to see on the wall before I tuck into my dinner. We had to redirect all the other customers well away from the doctors so they did not upchuck their $30 entrees.
I couldn’t tell the fish specials the rest of the night with a straight face.