Battle of the Sexes
She's in a little black dress; he's wearing a sports shirt, his T-shirt showing. They've been talking in a classy bar. He's tentative as he invites her back to his penthouse "to keep talking." She excuses herself to the ladies room. There, a team from Women's Organizational Network springs into action to do a background check in two minutes: computers appear, phone hookups emerge. His usual activities? Genitalia size? Job status? Meanwhile, one of the women keeps a video camera trained on him through a peephole. ("We've got a nose picker!") By the time the woman returns to the bar, she has plenty on which to make her decision. Will she leave with him, or is it "Adios, amigo"?
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