In a Bar with Women Who Toss T-shirts for Paychecks: A DadCentric Exclusive

You see them at major sporting events: a mostly female group of wholesome, well-scrubbed 20-somethings outfitted in the home team's gear. They chuck T-shirts into the crowd, host trivia contests on the Jumbotron and fight off the drunken lechery of fans.

You ask: Who are these people?

How did they get these sweet gigs?

Is this a profession that's right for my child?

Secrets are revealed in this exclusive interview with a couple members of the "Party Patrol" that roams CitiField, the home of your New York Mets.

ME: How did you get (major soft drink manufacturer) to hire you?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: Oh, we don't work for (major soft drink manufacturer). We're employed by the Mets. (Major soft drink manufacturer) is our sponsor.

ME: Your sponsor? Wow. The only sponsor I'll ever have will come with a 12-step program.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1 & 2: (Giggle.)

ME: When you tried out, did they have you toss T-shirts for distance or accuracy?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: Tossing T-shirts wasn't part of the job interview.

ME: Get the fluck out? I would have thought that mad T-shirt propulsion skills would be mandatory for this line of work.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: No. No tossing tests.

ME: Dag. If it was me, I'd make sure you could at least heave one up near the mezzanine level, just out of the reach of those tightwads in the cheap seats. You know, just to tease them a little. You like to tease, don't you?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: I did have to dance with Mr. Met.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: Really?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: Yeah.

ME: What kind of dance? Tango? Lambada? If you spin Mr. Met real fast then come to a sudden stop, does his oversized baseball head rotate with or against the previous motion of his body?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: They just had us dance to whatever music they could find on the radio.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: I feel gypped. I only had a regular business-like interview. No fair!

ME: And no Mr. Met, either. They either knew going in that you'd be perfect for the job or they thought you weren't worth the effort of schlepping in some guy dressed up like a 9-foot-tall anthropomorphic baseball to do the Rump Shaker with you.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: That's right. Just a plain old job interview. I feel slighted. (Pouts lips.)

ME: Did Mr. Met participate further in the interview process? For example, did he have you demonstrate a four-seam, rising fastball grip on his head?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: No. Just dancing.

ME: This sounds like a really slipshod interview process with a lack of quantifiable metrics and inconsistent standards on which to properly judge candidates. On that note, I have to say I've been somewhat disappointed in the dance contests you hold on top of the dugouts between innings. It always seems you have one really good dancing fan and one really lame one. The competition needs to be more balanced.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: We usually just pick anyone in the crowd who is willing to get up there.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1: Sometimes we get couples. Sometimes we get professional dancers.

ME: Professionals?

PARTY PATROL GIRL 2: Oh, yeah. We've found that out afterward. One guy had been on TV before and in a few videos.

ME: Man -- my innocence is shattered. Might as well complete the deflowering with a picture of me wedged between you. You girls look sweet and adorable; I'll try not to look desperate and inebriated.

PARTY PATROL GIRL 1 & 2: (Giggle.) Sure!