Tagged: bouncers

When customers are bad enough to deserve Enrique Iglesias

they were that bad and I did request it and it got played and vengeance was brief but sweet.

some middle aged british guys weren’t tipping at the rack.  We have a new bouncer who doesn’t yet know that this is nbd (sweet naive child) and actually got in an argument with them and hulked over them til one of them pulled out a two and then tried to slide it toward my crotch, hand lingering on my thigh.  Encouraged by the presence of Hulky who obviously didn’t know any better I grabbed his hand and bent his fingers back toward his elbow.

”You don’t get to touch me!” I said cheerfully. I saw him thinking about complaining and then look nervously at Hulky. In that moment I swear I was in love with Hulky.  it will pass and he’ll be as laissez-faire as the the rest of them.

the other one pulled out a 20$ and tapped it on the stage.  I thought it was an apology 20 for his friend being such a tremendous shithead, but then he said, “ah ah ah, you must work for it.”

“I am working.’  I snatched it and looked defiantly at Hulky.  It has actually happened that guys have complained they didn’t mean to tip the dancer onstage money and the girl has had to return it (or the time I was still new and didn’t yet know who I was working for and I charged a 5$ annoyance fee and had to give it back) but again Hulky came thru for me and the guys didn’t know to go find the manager and so I got to keep my ill-gotten cash.

as I was paying out (they finally caught up to me with all my flake fees, I would have had a decent night but for the 140 I owed them and a 50$ charge I think they made up but I don’t have proof—not that they have proof either but u know—which was almost half what I made. sux 2 b me tonight) one of the minors* came tearing into the lap dance room, punched the guy my friend was dancing for, and then left.  It was gr8.

*as in, she’s under 21.  A minor for alcohol, not an under 18 minor.

ok, I did do it.

Ok I did do it. It was my second best night ever I think. Normally not going onstage at least four times a night kills bc the cut that they take of every dance & VIP cuts into your total, then you know if you make over a certain amount you have to tip the bouncers more than their allotted five dollars each
(Which offends me so greatly bc they are all such utter jackasses. There’s the one I paid to leave me alone, who got tired of leaving me alone and, to pick only one [the last] incident, threw something at my head as I was counting my money at the end of the night and pulled my hoodie off to get a better look at my side boob. I am so glad we pay you, i snarled.
& I should tip him [ANY of them, useless tools] extra why? PLUS the dj gets ten percent of what I make and then gives THEM ten percent of what I give him so like you do the math on that. 30 women tipping each bouncer at least 5$ each, then tipping the dj at least 30 probably but usually 50-80 (i gleefully stiffed him 24$ and only gave him 100, and at least two girls did even better than I did)(omg I’m digressing so hard and I’ve lost track of the punctuation so ready for bed) but you get the point which is that all these people are making an hourly wage AND skimming off us and then they want more if you make over a certain amount?

And we don’t even make minimum wage, and we PAY to be there, we’re the reason people even walk into a strip club but heaven forfend any owner ever actually not use dancers to defray the burden of paying a living wage. And if you’re smart like this guy you make it a pyramid scheme so every staff member is invested in keeping it exactly as is.

But yeah I started this to say I had a great night so, you know , the shameless exploitation does pay off. That’s why I’m there, after all. Because I like free time, nice things, and keeping manny in health insurance.

An awful night

for a lot of reasons, mostly men behaving so badly that it’s too depressing to talk about.  I had to elbow a guy in the neck, he wasn’t kicked out.  He deserved to be killed tbh. A terrible couple’s dance where the guy complained the whole time about not being able to touch. By the time a guy told me he was too jewy to get a lap dance (I should have introduced him to Bunny & they could have gone off and been horrible people together)(Bunny isn’t talking to me any more & I’m not sorry.  Dear Bunny, if you are reading this I’m beyond not sorry) I was almost ready to flip out and go home but no, it got worse.

I got in an argument with some guys—oh it was so stupid.  They were standing by the stage gawking and told me they didn’t have money. I suggested they leave.  They were waiting for their friend, a bachelor, who was getting a bachelor dance.

“Why don’t you wait for him outside so you aren’t ogling the naked girls for free?”

One of them put his hand up to stop my crazy bitch tirade.

“I’m gay, sweetie.  I don’t care that you guys are naked.”

“That’s great!  Then moving outside & out of view won’t be a problem.”

“I told you we don’t want to look at naked girls!”

“Why are you standing by the stage? The whole place to choose from and you chose right here?”

“Quit being such a fucking bitch.”


The final straw was this kid who’d been looking at me with puppy eyes for an hour.  When I had time I went over to him and asked him his name.  Oops.  I usually remember not to do this, but.

“You don’t remember me from two days ago?”

“Ahhh…” no graceful way to recover. “I don’t wear my glasses to work.” This is true.

He swayed a little, from being drunk, not from the tragic blow of my lack of remembrance, Or idk maybe that too.

“Remind me!” I smiled encouragingly. “What’s your name?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“I’m sorry, no. That’s ok.  We can create new memories.”

“How drunk were you Saturday night?”

This is really rich coming from the kid who can’t stand straight and got his days messed up.

“I don’t drink here,” I said stiffly.

“How can you not remember me?” he wailed. I lost my temper.  It wanted to happen all night.

“Son, I see hundreds of people a night.  I probably talk to 50-100.  I know this loomed huge in your mind, but you’re just another guy.  Did you spend a lot on me or something?”

He looked tragic.

“Then you’re just some other guy.  Sorry it hurts your feelings. Have a good night.”  I patted his cheek patronizingly because I’m a fucking bitch and tried to leave only to be told I had to go on stage one last time. It was like dying.

ftr the night started out awesome. it wasn’t until horrible man that I had to elbow in the neck that it took a swan dive.  dying goose dive.

it’s hard to write abt work

bc I constantly feel like I have to preface everything with an explanation of why I am doing it and how I am still an intelligent adult capable of making solid choices and this is actually the best decision financially and for my mental health and also for school (could not have afforded college w/o it tbh, high school drop out that I am)(not that one needs college as an excuse, it’s now trite, i’m just saying)

but also that I don’t believe it’s inherently empowering except in the way that being able to pay rent and bills is empowering

and those two right there lose me like 3/4 of audience

only semi-related I used to love my job until the horribleness of my boss, the employees he hand picked from the customer base to maintain the horrible atmosphere, the girls who don’t know any better, and the fucking clueless assholes who flock to the place started making me hate it.  bc now I feel complicit

what do you do when the best club in town is a hell hole and unemployment has been thru the roof for over a decade?

I need a backout plan & exit strategy before 29.  not to quit b4 then, but I need a plan.  I love plans.