You're The Man

Here is the question of the day: Guess the percentage of absolute horny toads at a given sports club which houses a smoothie/protein bar/refreshment café with a teenage girl behind the counter who continuously take turns hitting on her while they wait for their drinks to blend and discuss the pros and cons of a wheat grass shots. Fairly straightforward in my request for this information. How many per day come over huffing and puffing in a wife beater and flex as best they can trying to impress the snack bar counter clerk enough to get her phone number so she and possibly a friend can sneak out on a school night and go out for drinks with whomever boasts the most elaborate tribal band tattoo and short, flammable-looking hair cut of the week? Are these the same guys making it virtually impossible to order a drink later that night from the bar because they get the unique feeling of genuine sincerity from the half-naked bar tender they are paying twelve dollar a piece for cocktails to? Do any readers have the statistical probability of that protein bar girl or bar tender ever actually associating with patrons once they are off work? Ok, ok, I will cut it out with asking all the questions as I think I have made my point. I know a guy who once walked into Tootsie’s Cabaret in North Miami and proceeded to ask out a woman pouring drinks behind the bar (in between inverted pole dances in her underwear to hair band metal songs) as she sincerely listened and laughed in amusement of his obviously unprecedented humor sense. So yet one final question to gauge whether I still have your interest: Did this friend of mine on this Tootsie’s escapade wind up exchanging numbers so they could get together sometime, or did her phone number start with a 555 like they do in the movies?