Halloween

Every year in October, I get a kick out of talking to the Entertainers about what they are going to dress up as for our big Halloween Party. Halloween is a great excuse for normal women of all ages to dress like strippers. So what do the strippers dress up as?

They dress up as Superheros and Villans;

And our sweet House Mom dresses as a Pimp;

I wasn't feeling very festive, so all I did was wear a blonde wig that was tight and itchy and drove me crazy.

What I Miss.....

My first job as a bartender was in Los Angeles and I loved it. I worked at a hip, large capacity dance club right on Hollywood Boulevard. I was 21 years old and making more money than I knew what to do with. I lived in a 60 year old renovated duplex right in the heart of West Hollywood. I could see the Fred Segal store and The Improv on Melrose Avenue from my front yard. I drove a brand new rag-top Jeep Wrangler and I was on top of the world. I was young, hip, financially independent for the first time and having the time of my life.

In 1994 everything changed.

The Northridge earthquake hit on January 17 shattering my psyche for months. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress and was unable to even take a shower alone. I didn't sleep and my heart pounded every time the ground rumbled under my feet, even if it was just a truck driving by. By 1994, I was living in Van Nuys, which was not too far from the epicenter of the quake. Almost everything I owned was destroyed. My apartment building was labeled with a yellow tag, which meant it had sustained significant damage but was still inhabitable. My boyfriend, my 2 cats and I were uninjured, thank God. We spent the next week with my boyfriend's Mom at her house in Laurel Canyon. My psyche eventually recovered but the trauma I personally experienced did permanent damage to my relationship with my boyfriend. We broke up in June, 5 months to the day after the quake.

In the meantime I hurt my back for the first time. Tending bar involves a lot of bending, lifting and repetitive motion. I herniated my L4-L5 disc in my low back. By March of '94 I was no longer able to work. My disability checks were based on my hourly pay from the club so my income took a drastic hit. I went from making roughly $6,000 a month to a mere $341 per month. Thankfully Worker's Comp covered my medical expenses.

That was the last time I worked behind a bar for 10 years, with one exception. I left Los Angeles in late '94 and moved to Santa Barbara. I tried to tend bar again at an awesome little Cajun Bar & Grill right on State Street in the heart of Santa Barbara. I just couldn't do it, the pain was too much.

I made my way back into the bar industry when I applied as a bartender at the Strip Club I now manage. It was like riding a bike. You never forget the basics and soon I was just as fast slinging drinks as I was at the Night Club in Hollywood. The money started pouring in and I was loving every minute of it. I was promoted to Management within 1 year and still worked 2 high volume bar shifts every week. I was back in the saddle again and felt like nothing could stop me now.

I was wrong.

In May 2006 I herniated my C6-C7 disc in my neck. The pain was immense, I couldn't even turn my head for months. I began Decompression Therapy, going 3 times a week and was again unable to do what I loved the most. Four months went by before I was able to get back behind the bar again. I took it easy at first, terrified that I could possibly do more damage to my body.

Taking it easy didn't help. In April of this year I herniated my L5-S1 disc in my low back. I haven't been behind the bar since.

Because of my past back injury and other medical issues I've had most of my life, I am considered too "high risk" for health insurance companies. I'm even too high risk for the companies specializing in high risk patients. I make enough money to afford any insurance, no matter the price, but no one will have me and I make too much to qualify for state assisted insurance. So here I am, unable to do what I love, surrounded by mounting medical bills. I can pay them , sure, but it just sucks because I am honest and never lie about my medical history on insurance applications, I am denied wherever I go. I pay my taxes, claiming 100% of my tips, I donate to various charities and am an all around good citizen, yet my Government won't help me. As great as it sounds when Presidential Candidates spout on about socialized health care, they will never do it. There is too much money at stake for our country's health care to be anything other than privatized.

Surgery may very well be the next step for me. I've had 3 rounds of Facet Injections in my back, the last one directly in my Sacral joint and it hasn't helped one bit. I hate taking the high doses of pain medication that I do, but I cannot function without it. This week I have decided that I will try Marijuana for the pain and nausea. Unfortunately, I live in a state where there is no legal Medical Marijuana so I will have to secure it in other ways. I'll try anything at this point. I'm not living life. I am merely existing, as Henry David Thoreau once said. I go back to the Pain Management Clinic this Friday to find out what's next. I could give you a long list of everything that's physically wrong with me but I won't. It's depressing to see it all in print. Suffice to say, there is more wrong with me than there is right. I call myself a lemon. Can I have a full body replacement, please?

I miss being a vibrant woman, living life to it's fullest and doing what I love most. Don't get me wrong, I love being a Manager at this Club that I love so much, but bar tending is my first love as a career and always will be.

I obtained a Beta Code from Justin.tv a little over a month ago, thinking I would document, (Lifecast), my journey as it happened but I haven't broadcasted anything in 3 weeks. There are many wonderful Casters and Viewers on the site but there is much hate, as well. I just cannot subject myself to people whose one goal as a Viewer is to make the Caster feel bad about themselves. I feel bad enough, all on my own. I'm still a dedicated Viewer, though. I love the glimpse into someone's life, like a fly on the wall. It helps me to escape my own for a little while.

I miss myself......I'm just out of my own reach.

Violent Drunks & Very Bad Girls

I absolutely abhor violence. Violence of any kind but especially when it's right in front of me.


Last night there was a customer who was unhappy with his credit card tab. Without going into our entire credit card tab procedures, I can tell you that what he was upset about was bizarre. It's common no matter where you go for an establishment to pre-authorize your credit card when you open a tab. Same goes for Hotels, as well. Some establishments don't require a signature on the pre-authorization slip, some do. We are one that does. My bartender made a mistake and forgot to have this customer sign his pre-auth when she ran it and asked him to sign at the same time she asked for his signature on his final charge slip. This guy absolutely flipped out. He wasn't a newbie to our club either. He insisted on speaking with a Manager and last night that was me.


My DoorHost, Gino*, came to get me, as the customer was waiting for me in the front Lobby. Said customer immediately began to shout about why he was upset, pointing his finger in my face and getting very close to me. I kept telling him that if he found the request for his signature so objectionable, then he didn't have to do it. I asked him several times why he was so upset because it really wasn't a big deal. His card had already been charged and we weren't charging him any more than what he owed.


I don't think he took too kindly to dealing with a woman in a position of power that he was having no luck in scaring. It happens a lot and I'm used to it. He was a fairly large man with a loud voice and I'm sure he's had much luck verbally overpowering women in his life. I was having no part of that and unfortunately I think that escalated the situation.


He then turned from me and promptly turned to Gino and began shouting at him. When Gino asked him to stop shouting the guy began to do the ol' chest bumping thing that men do when they think they are tough. He was trying so hard to get Gino to hit him, it was pathetic. He was just another drunk itching for a fight. I don't think I will ever understand men and all their posturing to show how tough they think they are. It's beyond me and for that I'm glad. It's ridiculous and scary and I want no part of it.


Gino is an awesome guy. He's an extremely big, former professional body builder and he didn't take the bait whatsoever. I was so proud. No matter what the drunk guy said to him, bumping his chest throughout, my guy wasn't shaken one bit.


Mr. Fat Drunk seemed to run out of gas and turned away to start walking for the door. I saw that he still had a beer bottle in his hand and I motioned to Gino to get it from him before he got out the door with it. I envisioned him throwing it back in the door, at cars in the parking lot or at some unfortunate soul that might be outside.


As soon as Gino got within reach, Mr. Fat Drunk swung the bottle at Gino's face. Chaos ensued. Gino got the guy to the floor and Mr. Fat Drunk's drunk brother jumped on Gino. I grabbed the phone and called 911. There was a lot of struggling, grunting and punching going on with these 2 fat drunks on top of Gino. Now I know that Gino can certainly handle his own but I was worried that these guys could possibly get the best of him. We were shorthanded on staff and Gino was my only bouncer there last night. I didn't want other drunk customers getting involved creating an all out brawl.


After about a minute, Gino was able to get some control, but Mr. Fat Drunk's drunk brother still had a hold of the front of Gino's shirt. Gino threw a punch that connected very nicely and Mr. Fat Drunk's drunk brother promptly fell back, hitting his head on our merchandise display case on his way down, knocking him unconscious.


I then told the 911 operator that we needed Paramedics, as well.


Gino stepped back and Mr. Fat Drunk got up and began yelling lawsuit all over the place, not even checking to see if his unconscious drunk brother was okay. Thankfully the Police arrived within minutes. Paramedics worked on Mr. Unconscious Drunk for a while, getting him ready to load onto their stretcher. He regained consciousness fairly quickly and began telling everyone within earshot to "Fuck Off."


Statements were taken from all witnesses, including myself, a waitress and an Entertainer. Gino declined to press charges against the men. I was so relieved to see that Gino was unhurt. He told me that the 2 drunks had been trying to scratch his eyes out and bite him like little girls in a cat fight. Such big, tough manly men.


I was shaken, for sure. Incidents like this are so rare at this Club, I had never had something like this happen on one of my shifts before. I'd been at a level of comfort in my own safety and this was definitely a wake-up call for me to be alert at all times.



On a lighter note, I never thought I'd have a job where I would have to tell a young woman not to put her breast in a customer's mouth, as I had to do earlier in the shift.


Strippers.........whaddaya gonna do, ya know? Some of them are Very Bad Girls.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

Whoops, There She Goes!

One of my duties as a manager is to "audition" new Entertainers. The "audition" part is really just a formality, though. Girls come in everyday, at all hours looking to get hired on as one of our Entertainers. We're one of the clubs in this city that is very discriminating on who we hire. We require more from our Entertainers than just a G-String and a pair of Stilettos. She has to have a pretty face, an engaging personality and her body must be toned and relatively fit. That's not to say she has to be thin, because men like women in all shapes and sizes, but she must at least appear as if she takes good care of herself. There's no getting around the fact that almost every woman has some cellulite. "Perfection" is achieved through airbrushing only and there are no airbrushes when she's on stage and in the light. So, some cellulite is acceptable just not so much that it looks as if you are watching a bowl of cottage cheese instead of a sexy female gyrate on stage. Unfortunately that's just the harsh reality of working in this industry.

This past Sunday was a perfect example of why I need to rethink "auditions as a formality."

A young woman came into the club at around 1:30 pm, shortly before we were due to open. She was a very attractive blonde with a curvaceous figure and a very laid back personality. She told me she had danced at two other clubs in town and wanted to try us because she had heard so many good things about the way we treat our Entertainers.

I was excited because it had been a few weeks since a really cute girl had come in to "audition" on one of my shifts. I was definitely having a dry spell in the "New Entertainer Hires" department. So, I got all her information, showed her where the Dressing Room was and went about getting the club ready to open. About 45 minutes later I heard the DJ call her name to go on stage, so I sat on a stool at the bar to watch.

What I saw when she began "dancing" to Alice Cooper's "Poison", almost made me fall off my stool. I say "dancing" because I'm not really sure what she was doing. In all honesty, it looked as if she were having a seziure. She was jerking all over the place doing moves that very closely resembled Elaine's dancing on Seinfeld. At one point during her second song, when she was trying to remove her florescent pink mesh top, it somehow got twisted up on the pole until she was, for all intents and purposes, tied to the pole. At this point I just had to walk away because I didn't want her to look over at the bartender, doorman, waitress and me, laughing uncontrollably. I know it's not nice or in good form to laugh at someone else's expense, but holy cow, it was funny.

After she came down from the stage, I pulled her aside and asked "How long have you been dancing, honey?" "Two years", she says. Oh my. I had thought for sure, after I saw her performance, that she was still green and had only danced at the other clubs for a very short time.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad or critisize you, but I really need you to try to slow down a little when you are on stage. It's kind of 'our style' for our entertainers to move slow and sensual when they are on stage", I told her. Of course, anyone who has ever been to a strip club worth it's salt, knows that all entertainers move slow and sensual for the most part. That's just how it's done. The exception being a "Featured" entertainer who is doing a "show".

She smiled and said "Okay, I'll try but I'm used to dancing to fast music." "Dancing to fast music is fine", I replied, "but you don't have to move fast when you do. It's much sexier to men when you move slowly."

In the meantime Greg*, our General Manager, had come in to do the bank run and have a beer. Of course, he heard all about my new hire before I had a chance to tell him myself. Luckily for me Greg is an awesome guy with a penchant for comedy and a fantastic sense of humor. He couldn't wait to see her on stage.

Greg went to sit with one of our regular customers at a table right next to the stage. Within 30 seconds of starting to "dance", she attempted to do some kind of backwards somersault type move and prompty fell off the stage right in front of Greg. In fact, the customer he was sitting with actually caught her before she hit the floor. Apparently her stiletto was caught on a chair and she probably would have broken her ankle had she not been caught. Greg put his hand over his face so she would not see his look of shock and glee. I give her credit, though. She brushed herself off, climbed back on stage and finished her set.

However, not 10 minutes later she came to me and said she just got a call that her daughter was in the hospital and she had to leave. "Will you be coming back?", I asked her. "Oh yes, absolutely. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with my daughter." she told me.

I knew I'd never see her again and that's okay. I will never hear the end of this from everyone that was there that day either. That's okay, too. Legitimate healthy ribbing from co-workers keeps a person humble and smiling.

There's never a dull moment in the life of a Strip Club Manager.



*All names have been changed to protect my co-workers who have no idea I am writing this

Strippers vs Entertainers

As a Manager for a Strip Club I am often asked certain "Strip Club Etiquette" questions. One that I am most often asked is "Do the girls like to be called Strippers?" The answer to that, in my experience, is no. The girls that I work with prefer to be referred to as "Entertainers" or "Dancers". In fact, at the club I work for, we frown upon any use of the word "Stripper." Except in closed door Management Meetings, that is....but that's another story for another day.

I never anticipated that my career would lead me into the Adult Entertainment Industry, but I'm glad it did. I love what I do and have the utmost respect for the people I work with and for. Unfortunately in today's work force, loving what you do, who you do it for and make a great living doing it is rare. I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess. I am one of the few "lifers" in this industry. I've found my calling and I'll be doing it until I retire.

I'm here to tell you that not all Clubs even remotely resemble most of the negative stereotypes that are commonly believed.

At the Club I work for we are like one big dysfunctional family. The Owner is the Patriarch and the Management Team are the parents. There are four Managers, two females and two males. The Staff, (Waitresses, DoorHosts/Hostesses and DJ's), are the children and the Entertainers are the step-sisters........some evil, some not. There is much drama at all times but along with the drama is love and respect. For the most part, everyone gets along and in spite of petty fights and typical turmoil, we all really care about one another. Sure, there's a lot of weirdness that happens on a daily basis but at the end of the day, we are all there for the same reason. To make a living.