For the majority of Bostonians, the tallest building in the city will always be known as John Hancock Tower. When I worked at John Hancock, we would eat lunch in the basement cafeteria of that building, but our actual work location was across the street in a much smaller building on Stuart Street. My job was technically a researcher, which at that time consisted of seeking out information on microfiche, an antiquated form of data storage. (I couldn’t tell you what I was researching because I honestly don’t know.) It was a temporary gig, and at 23 years of age, it was all I really wanted. After a few years of grueling but rewarding retail work, I was due for a change. I also had retail burnout, because for an anti-social introvert like myself, dealing with people on a daily service level was debilitating. That said, my retail job at Structure absolutely taught me how to interact and engage with strangers in a way that college never could, so by the time I walked into Bertucci’s for a pre-interview interview with someone who worked at John Hancock, I could hold my own in a conversation and give the impression that I was a sociable person. 

My friend ‘Ben’ (lean in a little – his real name is being changed to protect what he may not want people to know) whom I had dated briefly (and to whom I was largely awful in the wake of previous dating disasters) had been kind enough to keep me in mind when he knew I was looking for a job. He knew someone named ‘Mike’ (also a fake name to protect his own part in this story) who worked at John Hancock and might be able to get me a job in their research department. Ben told me that Mike wanted to meet with me over lunch to see if I might be a good fit. 

To prepare myself with any and all background information I could find, I asked Ben what he knew about Mike – how they had met, how long they’d been friends, the basic shit – not expecting anything all that interesting. Ben paused, and was suddenly skirting the simple question of how they met. Exasperated, and annoyed (and you might see glimmers of why my relationship with Ben would never have worked out) I finally just blurted out something like, “What?! Did you meet in a sex club or something? How difficult is this question?!”

Ben’s silence spoke incredulous volumes, and for someone who had seemed as basic and boring as vanilla, he suddenly became one small bit less annoying to me. He confirmed that yes, he and Mike had met at a sex club, but it would probably be best if I didn’t mention that. 

(There was the annoyance again, as even I understood not to mention such a thing.)

Back in the 90’s, there was a place called the Safari Club in Boston. I wasn’t yet 21 to gain access to, or even knowledge of, the place, and by the time I was old enough and brave enough to entertain such entertainment, it had closed. It was a sex club – a gym/sauna/workout scene that was a merely a front for a place where guys could hook up for an entry fee. Back then, Ben and Mike had met and struck up a… conversation in those hallowed halls, and from that was born a friendship that brought him to mind when I indicated my search for a job. 

At Bertucci’s, sitting across from Mike (and probably scarfing down a Silano pizza because they were the best) I nervously made small talk about my employment history (HA!) and a brief description of myself (HA HA!) while Mike sat in soft-spoken elegance and office wear. He was not at all a man I’d have considered a sex club kind of person, an early lesson that it was almost impossible to determine who was a sex club kind of person based on appearance and demeanor. His erudite way of speaking, and a charmingly disarming wit, did not hide his homosexuality, but neither did it reveal it to anyone other than those who had been briefed beforehand. 

After feeling me out and likely realizing how harmless I was, he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially that he assumed I knew how he and Ben had met. Since he brought it up, I merely confirmed that I knew. While I was crazy curious, I decided not to pursue the line of questioning that I so badly wanted to pursue. Our lunch ended on a good note, a hopeful note, and a few days later I got a call from Mike with a contact name at John Hancock. From there, I went for an interview and got my first office job.