Months pass. I hire an assistant, a tough guy we call Max the Vacc. We call him that because his real name, Maximilian Vaccination is just too many damn syllables after a few whiskeys. Anyway, good old Max the Vacc tells me about this little system he's got all worked out. He keeps photos of all the known floozies who work the bars. Some of them are old photos, and some are wearing wigs, but he's got most of the likely characters in his collection. We go down to my "second office" to try out the system. The new gal at the bar looked just like one of the bad girls from Max the Vacc's mug shots, so when she came over to our table all cute-like, trying to sit on my knee—I was prepared. I had all my defenses ready. "Immunity," I said to myself, "this Vaccination guy—I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."