Last night someone caught on to the fact that I was educated and deigned to ask me from which third-tier university I earned my degree.

“From McGill. It’s in Montreal.” I reply.

My client, a mid-twenties banker bedazzled in cashmere, chokes on his whiskey-coke.

“I went to McGill,” he says, his voice cracking.”When did you graduate?”

“May 2009. Should we go for a lap dance?”

“Uh, YEAH!”

I hop aboard my fellow alumnus’ lap and bounce away as his boner swells with drunken college memories of computer lab sex and Molson Dry. A few months ago I would have freaked out having met a co-ed while getting my titty scrilla on. Now I couldn’t give a FUCK. I love my job and damn I’m proud of the work that I do.