My gender has a reputation for being the more talkative one. But when it comes to strip clubs, you see a very disproportionate number of chatty Christophers who never shut up.
The most painful conversation I’ve had was on a slow Sunday or Monday night when I’d surveyed the same handful of customers a half dozen times. I started chatting with a man who had just come from shooting darts with friends. Normal enough activity. But he was in a dart league that he proceeded to break down for me in excruciating detail.
Another guy, very Italian-American, got to talking about cooking with me and proceeded to rattle off every ingredient of every recipe of everything he liked to make. Yes, garlic and parmesan cheese were oft mentioned.
The other kind of conversations that can be more engaging, but draining, is when customers insist on talking about politics or morbid subjects.
A guy last night spoke about his wife’s two brothers both getting killed on 9/11 and how the double tragedy ruined their marriage. Another guy who had been dragged to the strip club against his will for his birthday insisted on bashing liberal politics in hopes of a heated convo.