Gardeners, plumbers, house painters, etc., must have encountered people like this on the job. During the 60s, when I was still in high school, I would canvass neighborhoods looking for people to do yard work or such for, in order to earn spending money. One older woman–older than my mother–not only answered the door apparently naked (!!), but when she came outside to talk to me about what she wanted me to do she wore a top that showed a good deal of her ample bust and cleavage.
Years later I had a regular customer, close to my own age, who sometimes assisted me in the yard–pulling weeds, pruning rose bushes, trundling trash cans out to the street. A few times she wore a skimpy red top with “Ooh-La-La” on it; or wore a top with no bra, and must have known I could see her bare bosom when she knelt to weed strawberries and onions or stick small signs (in Armenian!) indicating what seeds she had just planted; or wore shorts that were short enough to leave little imagination about that part of her. (And she was married and had two little kids!)
I’d like to hear from other Dopers in service jobs about how customers have allegedly “come on” to them.
Well Doug, how old were you when doing this yard work? Sound like a gem for a high school kid. You’d better have gotten some from these ladies.
Anyways, I bartend…'nuff said.
To Omniscient: The first incident occurred when I was 15; this woman was old enough to be my grandmother–but she didn’t mind showing how buxom she was. I first worked for the other woman in 1976, when I was 27. This woman is younger than any of my other regular yard customers, and better-looking, and considerably more articulate and intellectual–and, naturally, more likely to engage me in heated disputes about what I was supposed to have done. Besides, her husband was, and perhaps still is, a nice guy; and they had two little boys who were very nice and even helped me in the yard on occasion. I guess I just respected all of them too much to make a pass at the woman; maybe I was misreading her signals, who knows?
Pointless? Maybe.
Mundane? Not to a 15-year-old.
A friend of mine is a bank manager. He gets laid all the time because of it. Well, maybe not all the time, but I can think of three or four in the last year.
One of his customers was married to an ex pro football player. He’d doink, her, and play golf at her country club to boot. She’s now divorced from football player, and my friend and her are just friends. Go figure.
Another friend of mine works for the cable company, and he’s occasionally gotten laid too. Ms. Smith, the lonely housewife wants a little non-committal sex to spice up her day.
What a quandry this puts me into…
Either I have real scuzzbags for friends,
OR
“Why the hell did I choose computer programming as an occupation!?”
When I was in college, I was a deliveryman for a local furniture store. There was this bored housewife who kept calling me out to do minor (and for the most part unnecessary)customer service jobs on her new furniture. She was a hotty, I would have accommodated her, except for the fact that she was married to the county district attorney…
TT
“Believe those who seek the truth.
Doubt those who find it.” --Andre Gide
I think the porn industry owes a huge debt of gratitude to the creation of the service industry. Just try to imagine a movie where no sex scenes with deliverymen, etc take place.
Well, shut my mouth. It’s also illegal to put squirrels down your pants for the purposes of gambling.
That’s funny, I was just going to post that the service industry owes a huge debt of gratitude to the porn industry for giving so many people the idea of a quickie with a stranger.
I delivered pizza (among other jobs) to pay for college. In addition to conventional, taxable tips, I occasionally received small amounts of, well, let’s say oregano that the customer decided not to use.
And on one memorable occasion, I was, uh, “tipped.” The combination of sororities, alcohol and dares is a good one.
Livin’ on Tums, Vitamin E and Rogaine
I don’t know, but this thread makes me glad I chose computer repair… now I just need to start doing on-site calls…
http://www.madpoet.com
Computers have let mankind make mistakes faster than any other invention, with the possible exception of tequila and handguns.
There’s a phrase for this sort of activity. It’s called the “Milkman Syndrome”. Only since the decline of home milk delivery have opportunities been so plentiful for pizza boys, TV repairmen, and yard workers. An aging milkman was once asked why he didn’t retire. His answer; “Well, I’d never see my kids, would I?”
Elmer J. Fudd,
Millionaire.
I own a mansion and a yacht.
Try being a big busted, green eyed, blonde who counsels mentally disabled veterans.
>^,^<
KITTEN
Fluff yer hair Beula, I’s feelin frisky - M.S.
This reminds me of the farmer whose wife kept having children till the farmer figured out where babies come from. So he moved the mailbox from the house to the road.
“If ignorance were corn flakes, you’d be General Mills.”
Cecil Adams
The Straight Dope
Babies don’t come in the mail! They…oh.
Elmer J. Fudd,
Millionaire.
I own a mansion and a yacht.
Gee Diane, I’m a veteran and qualify as mentally deranged. When can I get an appointment?
It’s your fault that I have no one to blame but myself.
Call my secretary, she should be able to fit you in between Otis and Walter.
>^,^<
KITTEN
Fluff yer hair Beula, I’s feelin frisky - M.S.
Otis and Walter huh? I’ve heard people call them Tom & Jerry, or ‘the twins’, or Abbott & Costello, but never Otis and Walter. Whatever you call them, if your offering the chance to get between them, I’m game.
I just realized this: I passed a written test two days ago to qualify as a census enumerator and…oh, the possibilities!! 
“If you drive an automobile, please drive carefully–because I walk in my sleep.”–Victor Borge
Now dougie, bring protection. We don’t want you going out there and upping the count!
Livin’ on Tums, Vitamin E and Rogaine
TV guys, cable guys and mailmen. Those are the guys who have told me they get propositioned the most. Landscapers? Naw. Pool guys, I suppose.
I’m sorry, but would someone explain to me why the bank manager was getting laid?
“There’s a snake in my boot!”