Last night, I worked a teambuilding event for RBC (Royal Bank of Canada) who rented out Invesco Field. Part of the fun was a relay race covering lots of the stadium. My job was HEAD CHEERLEADER. (I have never been a cheerleader, but I did play Patty Simcox in our high school production of Grease.)
I sat alone in the Visitor's Locker Room, most recently inhabited by the New Orleans Saints, and waited for teams to find me so they could perform their cheers for me. If I approved, they got a hole punch on the score card. I get paid for this stuff!
One or two middle-aged male bankers who may have had a few beers or perhaps just didn't possess the greatest social skills looked me up and down and said with a little frown, "Oh, I was hoping to meet a REAL cheerleader." Yeah, well, I was hoping to work with a gentleman, but such is life. You have to live with me--some people love fake cheerleaders.
Afterwards, I had Bob, the photo guy snap my picture in one of the quarterbacks lockers. Why not?
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