One of my most interesting day game workshops took place this past weekend. My student was Jessica’s kid Jack.
I was a little surprised when Jessica asked me to teach her kid day game. I told her I thought he was a little young, but she was insistent on giving him a head start and I’m not one to turn down money being thrown at me. She volunteered to pay my round-trip ticket from Colombia and also threw in a little bonus in case Jack went potty on himself during the workshop. He’s almost a year old.
The workshop started in the coffee shop with three hours of lecture material. It’s there that I felt that Jack wasn’t really comprehending my teachings. He couldn’t stay focused and sobbed loudly through much of the session, drawing dirty looks from many patrons who probably assumed I was his father. He definitely went potty on himself and with the help of Starbucks personnel I got him cleaned up and ready for the hands-on session where he would chat with girls.
I asked him multiple times if he was ready for the approaches, but he would just give me blank stares while smashing his Spongebob Squarepants toy on the table. I took that for a yes.
He wasn’t exhibiting any approach anxiety (suggesting a possible natural ability), and opened an extremely attractive young 20-something girl next to our table. He completely blew the line I taught him, instead mouthing off gibberish that even I couldn’t understand, but unbelievably it worked and she turned her body completely to face him with a giant smile. She complimented his appearance and touched him immediately and incessantly, something that has never happened to me in coffee shops. For taking absolutely no notes during the lecture portion (instead he gnawed on the pen I lent him), his first approach was proceeding quite splendidly.
The girl tried to lift him up for some reason and that’s when we both noticed that he went potty on himself again. I figured the approach was over and we’d have to leave, but she cleaned him up with some moist toilettes left over from the last time he went potty and resumed playing with him. I was in total disbelief that his technique was working, and started furiously taking notes on what I was observing. The girl eventually gave me her number, telling me to call the next time Jack wanted to play. Weird thing is Jack never asked for her number, and it’s here that I suspected Jack was using an inner game technique.
Jack and I then went to the Urban Outfitters. He started to wreck many of the display cases and the staff wasn’t all too pleased with my sheepish apologies. I distanced myself and let him crawl amok while I pretended to shop for extra skinny jeans. Out the corner of my eye I saw three beautiful girls rush to his side from nowhere and say, “What are you doing little guy?!” There were encircling him, all on their knees, asking Jack questions like what’s his name and how old he was. The girls definitely were interested but Jack was more into his beloved Spongebob, now heavy with drool. They gave up after trying hard for five minutes, possibly more. I started to doubt Jack was completely truthful earlier when he remained silent after I asked him if he had any prior pick up experience.
We left Urban Outfitters and went to McDonalds. He didn’t eat much (half his French Fries ended up on the floor), but he killed his Coca-Cola. The sugar and caffeine energized him for our next venue, the street, which any guy knows is the hardest place to pick up.
Here’s where it gets a little weird: Jack didn’t have to do the approaches himself—the girls approached him outright. Not only that but they lavished him with compliments on his physical appearance, saying he was “cute,” “adorable,” and a “handsome little man.” I was flabbergasted as neither myself or my previous students have ever been approached on the street like that. Even when he wasn’t being approached, the amount of eye contact he got was more than I received in the past week. Jack didn’t seem to be too interested in the girls though and declined to close any of the them. I started to feel a bit insecure that I was being somewhat upstaged by someone who supposedly had no prior field experience.
The effect of the carbonated beverage was wearing off so I figured we only had time for one more venue—the bookstore. Once inside he immediately went off to the children’s section and grabbed Goodnight Moon. I advised him that it’s better to put down the baby book and grab an interesting one that he can use as a prop for conversation, such as The Omnivore’s Dilemma or Eat, Pray, Love. He yelled at the top of his lungs, which I took as a no, and rampaged through the store while crumpling the book’s pages. I had to assure the staff that I’d purchase the now-destroyed book, which I would later bill to Jessica.
During the rampage we both took notice of a gorgeous Eastern European girl, presumably on vacation (she had a plastic bag from one of the Smithsonian museums—Air and Space if I remember correctly). I was ready to throw Jack under the bus to game her myself, but she slid up next to him before I could make a move and asked him, “What book do you got there?”
Jack showed her his work of destruction and the girl, who turns out was from Poland, was so enamored that she started reading from the ruined pages. Then suddenly I was hit with a most offensive wall of fecal odor. The Polish girl stopped reading (she was at the page where the cow crashes through the window), and said, “Someone went doo-doo in his pants!” Apparently Jack took a massive dump.
I’ll be honest: I felt a little pleased at his accident because I was tired of his nonstop success, but then without warning the Polish girl embraced him and then carried him to the bathroom to clean his bottom. They came back and were laughing hard, and I can swear they were making fun of me but exactly how I do not know. Then the Polish girl looked at me said, “Here’s my number. Call me if you need help with your handsome little man.”
“Oh I don’t think I’ll need help,” I said. “But if want to grab a drink tomorrow night we can….”
“Uhhh I don’t know. But if you have Jack around then I’ll come.”
Yeah that stung a bit.
The Polish girl left and I tried to give Jack closing remarks on a table in the cafe, but he just drooled all over the material while putting two pennies in his mouth that he found on the floor. I called Jessica and she came to pick him up not long after, thanking me for my service.
I sat alone in the bookstore coffee shop for a while staring at an Ernest Hemingway poster that was up on the wall, trying to piece together exactly what happened and why the past seven years of my life studying game was challenged in a few hours by someone who used nonsensical gibberish to communicate, soiled his pants repeatedly, and destroyed shit like a crazy maniac.
But then I thought about it more. Jack beats to his own drum. He shows disinterest. He has his own hobbies that he’s 100% commited too, like drooling and bashing things. He’s a straight-up alpha dog, and that’s why those girls threw themselves on him. There’s no other explanation, or else I’ll have to admit that my entire lifestyle is a sham.
There are many ways to skin a cat and Jack has shown me that a simple “Bahhhhagooboopsshhh” is just as effective and saying something like, “So what qualities do you have which make me want to get to know you better?” And here I thought I knew everything about game. Thank you Jack and Jessica, for teaching this old man some new tricks.