A couple of months back I asked my vast and varied readership to submit some questions you've always wanted to ask me for an upcoming installment where I would answer those questions, finally satisfying your aberrant need to know.
I wasn't prepared for the overwhelming response, a veritable tsunami of queries and submissions that flooded my message box like a killer wave smashing a peaceful seaside village to smithereens. I chose some of my favorites out of the storm and the results are below.
1) Dmitri K. from Stalag, Russia asked "Have you ever sabotaged a stripper? If so how and why?"
-Oh my God yes, Dmitri. Many times. The simple answer is because sometimes a bitch needs to be punished.
The more complicated answer is because you can't show weakness to conniving strippers. If they get over on you and cost you money, you have to hurt them back twice as bad or they'll walk all over you. Luckily for me at my current club, the Floor Guys have a lot more juice than at the last place I worked where we were basically just walking, glorified welcome mats.
Now I'll give you a specific example. Recently we had this guy in a champagne room with 3 girls. The man has a lot of money, is always very polite and a GREAT TIPPER. He's fairly regular and we always make sure he has a fantastic time. I'll call him Bill for purposes of this example. Bill usually gets rooms for one or two hour increments and when he gets going he'll do 4-6 hours at a time.
So about a month ago bill comes in and does an hour with two of our girls. He tipped $200 on a $1000 tab. He decides he wants to do another 2 hours with both of the girls and a "fun girl of our choice". We pop boners when we hear this. That's a lot of dough going around and we get to reward a good tipper with a nice, easy champagne room where she's going to make a lot of dough and tip us awesome because of it.
Now before I go any further, I need to explain something first. Bill, due to his nature, regularity and massive amounts of money, is one of the very few customers we'll let pay for his room after it's done. This is against all strip club SOP and very few VIP's ever get extended this courtesy. We do it for maybe 2 or 3 customers and as long as we're confident we'll get paid, us Floor Stiffs don't mind it because it gives the customers more time to get drunk and happy. Drunk and happy people tip better. Bill is a cool cat and even when he wasn't happy with a dancer, he always pays for his rooms and he always tips.
We fucking love Bill.
So back to getting hosed by a stripper. When the two hours was done, Bill was signing the tab and left a $1500 tip on a $3500 tab. Since there were five Floor Snipes that night, it meant that Bill had just tipped us $300 each. We were ecstatic, without Bill we probably would've made about $80-90 each.
Then a nosy, conniving bitch happened. She saw him filling out the receipt and and asked "Where's our tip?" referring to her and ilk. Bill looked confused and asked "Doesn't this tip get split between all of you?" Obviously meaning Floor Guys AND Dancers. "No" the Floor Dude explained, "Whatever you tip on this receipt goes to the Floor Staff, but we can run another transaction if you'd like to tip the girls some more."
"Yeah" Bill says. "Let's do that." And then he changes our tip from $1500 to $300 and has the host run the difference as a tip for the clam-havers. And thus, in one fell swoop, fucking Brittney cost each and every Floor Puke $240.
After work, when all the dancers and waitresses were safely crammed into their cars and sent on their way, the floor staff held a fucking council of war.
The result was that the next two times Bill came in we arranged for Brittney to be somewhere else while we hustled our chosen girls into the champagne room, one time even going as far to lie to Bill and say Brittney hadn't come in yet.
I figure that between those two nights alone we cost her around $2000-3000.
Fuck you Brittney.
2) Angus R. from Moordrear, Scotland writes: "If you can smell my musty 'Lady Garden' from where you're standing on the floor, would you tell me and how?"
-Fucking great question Angus, and a delicate one at that. How do you go about informing a clueless dancer that her lady-mound stinks of war and plague? Well thankfully it doesn't come up often, most dancers are pretty fanatic about powders and baby wipes and various other stink subduing methods. When one does sneak through the cracks, pray you have a House Mom or sympathetic stripper you can pass the chore onto.
When all else fails and it becomes apparent that I'm the one who must break the news, which has happened to me only twice in my career, I took said dancer aside to an empty champagne room. Then I took her back out into the main club because her pungency quickly overwhelmed the small VIP room.
Here's how our conversation went:
HER: "What's the deal?"
ME: "You have thong demons."
HER: "What the hell are you talkin aboot?"*1
ME: "Um. You're fermenting. Down there."
HER: "Steve, what the fuck are you talking aboot?"*2
It turned out to be more awkward than I had thought it would be.
ME: "Foul winds....um. Your cooch is malodorous. Uninviting except to scavengers. Um."
HER: "Just say what you fuckin mean! I don't have all night!"
ME: "Your nethers have a breath weapon. Stink Cone."
HER: "Are you trying to say my pussy stinks?"
ME: (running away) "....yup!"
That about covers that. What's next?
3) Neil A-R. from Philadelphia, PA writes: "Are you surprised when you receive money from elsewhere and it doesn't smell like cat food and broken dreams?
-Well sorta. I'm more acclimated to the aroma of crushed up oxycontins and cocaine, and I can't smell broken dreams anymore because my apartment is so saturated with that scent that I can no longer detect it in other environments.
4) Pasquale from Evoo, Italy asked me: "How does it feel to no longer get a boner in front of a naked woman anymore?"
-It feels kinda like not being a teenager anymore, Pasquale. Like someone who's been able to establish a modicum of control over my wang-gremlin. Seriously, who sprouts wood just by looking at a dancer in a club? I can see a chub or two if it's your first time in a club, or you stumble upon the most unbelievably hot chick you've ever seen, or, you know, in the privacy of your own home. But to just walk into a titty bar and fucking spring one for no better reason than you see a naked female? That's for amateurs, buddy. If I was hard the whole time a naked dancer was writhing around in front of me, I'd have to go to the hospital every night to be treated for priapism.*3
5) Mike K from Albany, NY writes: "Do you have an exit strategy from floor hosting? How do you plan to retire from the industry?"
-Well Mike, I'm sorta relying on a couple of projects that I'm currently not even working on. You have to keep in mind that although I'm fairly intelligent and quite creative, I'm saddled with so many other character flaws that the only plausible answer to your question is: I'll never be able to retire and am almost certain to die on a filthy strip club floor someday.
6) Lucius X from Baltimore, MD writes: "What's the most dough you eva made inna night?"
-I have two answers to that Lucius. The first is $2200. I made that on a night when a particularly generous celebrity came is and spent the whole night in VIP rooms with a half dozen girls and $5000 worth of champagne. It was fucking glorious.
My second response is around $2500, the difference being that I found roughly $2100 in a champagne room that no one ever inquired about. Normally when I find money at the club it goes into my tip pocket, and I just add it to whatever else I made that goes into the general pot at the end of the night. Like every other club I worked at that features a floor staff, we split our tips.
But in this instance I remembered back to when I first started out at this club and for the first few weeks when I drove the shuttle, the other Floor Cunts wouldn't split the tips with me "because I was driving". Even though I was a Floor Guy, I got ripped off for 4-5 weeks.
It was this sordid piece of history I recalled as I tucked the $2100 bucks into a 'personal' pocket, then transferred it to my car. In my defense, I did peel off $300 to add to my tips, if only to make myself look like a better earner.
AND... that's about all I have the patience for. I hope this post helps make you, dear reader, and me, beloved author just that much more close.
Have a good evening,
-The StripperHerder
*1 She's Canadian
*2 All dancers generally call me Steve. Not sure why but I stopped correcting them long ago.
*3 For those of you not familiar with the term: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/priapism/basics/definition/con-20029378
