When I bartended briefly at a strip club in Manhattan, I became aware of funny money. It’s when guys run a certain amount on their credit card (taxed at 30% of course) and receive $20 vouchers to use for lap dances and back rubs. Funny money’s great, cause if a guy wants to get dances on credit and spend money he doesn’t have, he can. He benefits, I benefit. Unfortunately, the club I work at now does not have funny money and the other night, I was wishing they did.
Two Staten Islanders came in and were getting bottle service, so I approached them assuming they were ripe to spend. Instead, they explained to me that the bottle and cover charge was on an AMEX black card expense account and they had no cash. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Who the fuck goes to strip clubs with NO cash?
Upon hearing this, I encouraged them to visit the ATM and spend a little of their personal money on a dance. No dice. They gave me a line about leaving their debit and credit cards at home. Cheap freeloading bastards!
Usually, guys who just hit the club for a beer and a decent topless view sit by the stage, but these guys were back in VIP getting bottle service with no spending cash. Too many people show up to the club broke, but they’re usually easy to spot. One guy insisted on talking my ear off and begging for promises of a turned trick or suck a dick in the champagne room and he was trying to run a tab on his driver’s license, claiming he left his bank cards at home.
It’s comforting to know most of the people who come in are losers. That’s why I love bachelor parties on weekends, when customers are essentially normal and sporadic visitors. Bachelors don’t always have a ton of money since they’re often in their late twenties, but they always come looking to splurge and have a great night, instead of seeking a fake girlfriend/fake psychiatrist figure.