That Ain'tcha Hooker!

So the first time I was confused for a prostitute I was 15 years old and illegally working in Los Angeles. I had landed a job at a nursery (plants not pampers) at La Brea and Santa Monica Boulevard doing menial labor. I must have made a lasting impression because only after one week they let me go. As I waited on the street corner adjacent to the nursery in broad daylight for my brother to come pick me I noticed a gentleman flashing his lights. I found it odd since it was daylight but then much to my surprise realized that I was standing next to some graffiti on the wall that read: SEX $75. After the shock of learning that some whore was making $75 for, at the very most, an hour of fun/crying had passed while I had made a mere $185 for a week's worth of hell, I realized that this "Joe" thought I was this genius prostitute entrepreneur. I hadn't even had sex yet but I was so smart at the age of 15 to know when someone wanted to pay me for it.