Me: "So, what do you do for a living?"My face looks like he just told me that he's only had "a handful" DUIs or that he is really into the Furry scene. Fuck this fuckin' guy and goddamn I'd like to stab this stupid phrase in the face.
Him, laughing: "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Me, groaning: "No, really. What do you do?"
Him, fake exasperated: "I just said! I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Then, he took a swig from his beer and shrugged his shoulders, like he's saying, "Hey, it's outta my hands, lady."
I waited a full ten seconds to be dramatic. "Seriously. What is your job? What do you do all day? How do you pay your rent? Are you a can collector? Do you sell your blood? Do you sell vacuums door-to-door? What's with the secrecy? Just tell me!"
Him, not laughing, determined to stick to his line: "I already told you! I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
Well, I asked around. It turns out that he works for the state government assessing whether businesses adhere to their discrimination policies. That's it? No mafia connections? No spy work? Just a regular joe with a desk job? All this hubbub for that? Oy vey.