No one, and I mean no one complains when scantily clad dancer/model/performer/skate girls in hot pants walk through the catering workspace. Maybe "expect the unexpected" is a super cheesy phrase, but it is an apt descriptor for catering.
This weekend I worked an event on the second floor of a nightclub. We were issued ear plugs. Our stoves were plugged into a confusing thread of cords that may normally be used for sound equipment. It was dark. Thousands of guests were downstairs, and we had a prime viewing spot in the balcony. The performers for the night included a sexy snake charmer lady, roller skating girls, gymnasts who used silky looking sashes to lift, shimmy and pull their way up to the ceiling, and a loud but good funky band. There was also a pair of male gymnasts that did striking moves, but the more macho guests giggled and guffawed. Perhaps they weren't used to all that male flesh. Watching the two guys lift and sweat their way through their act, and I too started thinking about gay male sex.
Guests were not supposed to be in our area, but the performers sometimes used our balcony as a walkway. Female chefs would gawk at the ladies with the slightest whiff of disdain and fascination; the guys did not hide their goofy smiles and open mouths. Our head chef/boss kept offering the ladies food, and they seemed to only want chicken skewers (so that's how they stay so trim and hot!). We'd all put our knives and tools down to slowly watch the ladies as they'd pass by, all smooth, shiny and glittery.
Then there were the unwanted visitors to our space. That'd be the arrogant pushy male guests who would announce their presence and then try to make small talk as they'd greedily grab a nosh here and a bite there. They'd linger and look around, as if they wanted the other guests to see them schmoozing and eating in the "kitchen." On the other hand, maybe they were just like the guys I was working with: trying to get a nice long look at some nearly naked women.