I once knew a girl, I'll call her Cloycette just to give her a name, who worked in a butterfly house. You know, one of those tourist trap places where butterflies flit about freely in a controlled environment. She had worked everywhere in the business, from ticket taker to the inspector who checks patrons for butterflies as they leave. "What's that last job about?" I asked.
"As a customer is about to exit, I ask them to do a slow pirouette to see if any of the insects have perched on their clothes. If there's one on their backs, I lightly brush them off," she answered.
"Ah, I see. Ever tempted to have a joke on them?
Cloycette was confused. "What do you mean?
"Well, like asking one to turn around, then slap them on the back like an old friend and say, 'Ha! I got one!'"
She sighed. "No, Marty, I was never tempted to do that."
Cloycette never was very much fun.
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