I suppose it’s ironic I blogged just yesterday about the strip club being surprisingly drama free. I just got home and feel the need to indulge in mild venting.
Today was very peaceful and relaxing. After having lunch with my father and sister and playing with my sister’s adorable new puppy, I went on some overdue errands. I treated myself to a bottle of my favorite perfume, Miss Dior Cherie, some snazzy jewelry and a $28 Dior lip gloss. Extravagant I know. But the one budget friendly purchase I made today was a $10 box of hair dye. I’ve been itching to go back from my natural color to red for a bit and finally went through with it the cheap way, instead of paying $80+ at Aveda or some other salon.
I went into work late since they are flexible about that and I wanted to show up a redhead. The house mom had a million gorgeous new dresses and I got a dark purple one, a color I’ve been meaning to add to my collection. I was feeling really pretty with my fancy rhinestone g string, new jewels and new dress, but there were almost no customers. Not even that one guy who will buy you a couple drinks and get 1-3 lap dances.
Out of boredom, I tried on even more dresses and because the other girls loved the second one I tried on, I bought that too and changed out of the purple one. I need to calm down with the purchases. I think I’m one to rely on feeling very confident and sexy in what I’m wearing to maximize my earning potential, but my little Russian BFF’s who I always hate on usually just wear the same 1-2 dresses. They don’t splurge they just use their body, which technically costs nothing like clothes (Russians tend to be less addicted to ass injections and various implants than the South American girls).
The night continued to go nowhere and I gave only one lap dance. At a certain point, I gave up and asked to leave early because I have a long day tomorrow (I should be sleeping instead of writing). The house mom said yes, but she was drunk because it was her Birthday. She had locked my bag of personal belongings in a locker with some of her supplies but didn’t have the combo. So I proceeded to wander around barefoot in my thong trying to find a bus boy to break the lock. After well over a half hour, I was getting frustrated bordering on heated. Instead of spending that last hour trying to hustle a little money, I was sitting around trying to get my trapped items.
I walked out the door with $12 after paying my usual fees, $10 for chicken fingers and making a $5 contribution to a gift for the house mom.
As I waited around almost buck naked for my bag, I watched several girls unravel. One recounted the fist fight she’d gotten into with a former dancer (I was in the dressing room when it happened). Another girl, who always seemed sweet and mellow, was freaking out on the phone with some guy, either a boyfriend or some dysfunctional role. She was screaming at him top volume and smacked the dressing room mirror hard after hanging up. When someone told her to calm down, she started focusing her negative energy on the bystander. “Don’t tell me what to do, it’s not you it’s him but don’t make it you cause you don’t wanna see that.” Then she mumbled something about going and stabbing him and whatever girl he was with. CHRIST.
Once I was finally dressed, I called a driver from a local car service who told me another night he dropped me home I can always get a free ride when I’m short on cash. I had told him that wouldn’t happen, but unfortunately I had to take him up on the offer tonight. He took awhile to get there, so as I waited upstairs by the exit for him to call me outside, I witnessed yet another shitstorm of a fight. The massage girl was carrying on to a guy lingering at his table in the VIP section. Something about him fucking with her son. Fuck knows. I just know that tensions and emotions were way too high all around tonight and the escalation of voices had me starting to worry about getting caught in some kind of violent crossfire. I was even glad to remember there’s a metal detector.
The driver helped calm me down on the way home just now. I told him it had been a nightmare shift and I was anxious to get home where my roommate’s fast asleep and there isn’t a peep for blocks. I apologized for my lack of cash and told him how appreciative myself and other dancers are for the role he plays in our getting home safely. We talked about his safety as well because he doesn’t have the barrier between front and back seats yellow cabs do.
Beyond my driver, I at least had a few laughs with one other dancer who doesn’t seem to let things get to her. She was going off on a hilarious tangent about instilling a stripper mentality in little kindergarten girls saying “Oh a boy wants your chocolate milk, he better pay you!”
I am not all that frustrated about the money I didn’t make tonight. You win some, you lose some. I’m booked with several day gigs and liquor promotions this weekend as well as dancing and I have plenty of work opportunities outside of stripping on my plate. I’m just annoyed I wasted time and energy not only for $12, but for a little too much emotional tweaking to handle before back to back 18 hour work days. I went into work today bursting with confidence looking great, smelling great, feeling great. Ready to go. What a bust tonight was!