Had to go to a dinner with a client but did not get to choose the place. My coworker did.
It was the kind of place that I kind of forgot existed in this city and that I definitely don’t miss – I learned pretty immediately after moving here that these are the kinds of places I want to avoid. But he is older than me(?) and didn’t(?).

A giant dining room full of men, men, men everywhere, mostly young (but one or two older ones at each table), mostly wearing shirts – white, blue or pink – like a uniform. Din making it almost impossible to hear the two poor Russian women (the client, they came all the way from Moscow for this) sitting across the table from us, visibly uncomfortable, but taking it all in, wide eyed – it’s their first time in New York.

My coworker, the one who picked this place and who apparently goes there often, told me afterwards how the front bar area, later in the night, is full of “cougars”. They are all “models”, he proudly remarked.

This is why I want nothing to do with this industry, and yet I always get dragged right back into it.