I'm going to start this installment with a new feature I call FUN STATS. It's not complicated so I'm just going to launch into it and hope that you, dear reader, can keep up.
-Number of dancers I worked with who have died since my last post= 3 that I know of. Two O.D.'s and one murder.
-Number of club patrons that lost their phone in the club since my last post= 546
-Number of times, since last installment, management failed to inform me of something I felt was important tothe fulfillment of my job duties, then yelled at me for not knowing it= 4
-Number of times I've been asked for money by complete strangers since last post= 63
-Number of times someone has said a variation on the theme of "Make sure you check his ID, he's only 12!" since my last post= 11,234
-The number of patrons who showed up specifically to see our last "Feature" entertainer= maybe 6
-Number of times my new Arch-Nemesis, Ratty, has gone all white trash cunt on a customer since her ill advised rehiring: 0.
I'm even more surprised than you, trust me. But mark my words people, it will happen. She will explode all War-Twat on an unprecedented scale and the longer she manages to behave herself, the more catastrophic her rampage will be. Hope I'm not around when it happens...
-Number of times our Door Girls have managed to suck at their job since my last post= I didn't actually count but it's a lot.
-Number of Waitresses who have become Strippers since last post= 0
Which is unusual in a two week span.
Number of club employees that drive the shuttle other than me= 3
Number of club employees that drive the shuttle who actually wash or clean said shuttle= 1. Me.
Number of club employees that have also driven the shuttle and who apparently enjoy leaving their nasty ass tobacco spit cups for me to find and dispose of: 2. Keen Kenny Deen (no longer at club) and Floor Guy: Judas.
.
All right, enough of all that garbage. No one cares.
Let's discuss Pornstars as club attractions. I mentioned them in this post's title, so I may as well talk about it.
Depending on the level the club operates on and the whims of its Owner, a titty bar may at some point opt to hire a Pornstar to be a "Featured Entertainer". This worked out fairly well back before the internet forever changed the way people consume pornography. Back before sites existed where you could watch soul-killing amounts of free yank fodder, porn was sort of a big deal. To some humans anyways.
And by 'big deal' I mean that you had to go through some sort of tribulation to get your hands on it. Maybe you ordered it from the internet. Maybe, if you're older, you had to mail in for it from the back pages of a skin rag.
Or, God forbid, you had to walk into a porn store and buy it. Letting some complete stranger in on what you were gonna whack it to just as soon as you could get home with it.
There were no great alternatives back then unless you had a Porn Cooperative among your friend base. An informal Pornography Exchange Program where properly reviewed VHS and DVD's could be traded for fresh material at a much reduced cost for everyone.
Those were the days. When hordes of sex starved compulsive masturbators would descend on a club because their favorite fuck-queen was gonna be there, live on stage, her high capacity vagina on display for all to see.
What could be better?
Porn Stars like Ginger Lynn, Jenna Jamison, Tera Patrick, Lisa Ann, Janine Lindemulder, Jill Kelly and Chasey Lain. Actually famous for taking dick, even outside the industry. Girls like these could put a lot of asses in seats and sold pics of themselves posing with various losers all night for $20-30 a pop.
Nowadays however, nobody cares about Pornstars. Most people haven't the slightest idea who any of them are, including us strip club employees, who you'd think would be better than average informed about these things. The advent of utterly free porn available at the touch of a button totally destroyed any 'mystique' porn had to it, eliminated any "quests" you had to embark on to obtain it, thus seriously devaluing it. Back in the day it was earned, not tossed about all over the interwebz like so much spanktual chicken feed.
This is why I submit to you, my readership, that the Golden Age of porno is over and that very few people give a fuck about so called 'pornstars' anymore.
As my example of this statement, here's how the last two Features we had went down:
Feature A) Sally Smith or something like that. Had done exactly one porn DVD and decided that she should go on tour because making one professionally produced pornographic movie in today's webcam and free online porn saturated world means you're a big deal.
I got stuck minding her one night and my favorite quote of hers came from when she was talking to some random stripper. She said to this stripper, "Oh no honey, I'm not just a stripper, I'm important."
Seriously, she said that. I shit you not. I wish I could remember her name. Suzie Snizzbert, maybe?
Whatever.
Feature B) A much better known 3-holer lassie, with dozens if not hundreds of adult videos to her credit. This chick had a following and it was roughly six dudes, one of which who's just a broke regular who loves all pornstars and has an encyclopedic and disturbing knowledge of the last 40 years of fuck-flick history. He's like a comic book fanboy, but much creepier, far more adept at clownface and way more likely to kill someone someday.
Now I'll give Feature B, who I'll refer to as Assmerelda from here forth, some credit. She put on a decent show and really knew how to work a room. And by 'work a room' I mean she was exceptionally good at engaging a table of customers and pressuring them into buying her booze.
Which she drank a lot of.
Somewhere in between shots she managed to land a half hour room, which she was charging $800 dollars for. Since the guy payed with a card she was paid in the club's funny money*1, which she loses 10% on when she cashes them in. This was patiently explained to her by both the Manager and the Floor Host running the transaction.
But Assmerelda went all Hyde*2 when she found out she was only getting $720 for the room. We weren't even charging her the way we would one of our own girls in that there was no 'club' fee attached to her rooms. We weren't taking a dime in "room rental", all we were doing is taking the standard 10% off the top because the guy paid with a credit card.
If it had been cash, she would've received all $800 of it. If it was one of our strippers, she would've only got about $450 once the club got it's cut and then took another bite through the funny money system.
It's quite the racket. But horny dudes are like sheep; when things get hot, they enjoy being sheared.
But enough about her income, let's talk about how that crazy Felch Drain handled it.
She went batfuck.
Plain and simple.
I saw the storm a-comin and I went out to check the parking lot for gun toting criminals, safe in the knowledge than it was better than being around the whirlwind of shitfaced snatchery that was about to curb-stomp any semblance of serenity it could find.
Insulting and assaulting dancers, motherfucking everyone with a vagina or less than $4000 in his pocket. It got fucking grim and I managed to dodge the vast majority of it by preferring to risk being shot by heroin dealers, funny as that may seem.
She reminded me of my ancient foe, Vodzilla, but her nether bits were far less Cthulic than Vodzilla's opium-addicts-nightmare of a vulva. Voddy's lady parts looked like bubble gum flavored gummi waffles inexplicably wedged between two stretched marked nylons full of pork based greek yogurt.
In a perfect world, I would've been able to cage fight Assmerelda versus Vodzilla and charged $19.99 to watch it. Then I would retire and start buying and outfitting War Rigs, preparing for a Mad Maxian future which may or may not happen in my lifetime.
Best to be prepared. Not in the real life sense of survivalism, but in the crazy-armored-vehicles-fighting-over-long-stretches-of-road sort of way.
Just in case.
In closing I'd like to mention that to be a success in this industry, you have to have a rhino hide. All facets of the service industry have to deal with human shittery, but the strip club segment really sets new lows for standards accepted.
If you're going to freak out any time some drunk ballsack utters something reprehensible, then you're not cut out for this occupation. If you feel like some sort of crime has been committed when a stranger grabs ass, then you should flee.
An environment, not your moral code, dictate what behavior is acceptable and what is not. Doubt that and try going to an Islamist state and squawk publicly about education for females or being gay and see what that get's ya. You probably won't like it.
If your moral codes say that pretty much anything qualifies as an assault, a clam shack should be the last place you seek employment. The Floor Squad will back you up within legitimate parameters, but best not lie to us. We will get to the bottom of all kinds of tangled-ass shit but it may take us a few minutes, we're not wizards.
If and when we find out through our various sources that you've been a lying, exaggerating bitch, we'll give you the Black Mark, lass. And you'll be on your own, adrift on a sea of your own connivance and snizzery*3.
Don't fark with us. We see all, we know all.
We are the Floor Creed. We are eternal.
Fuck the pictures. I need to eat. I know I should do them and I still don't care because the vodka says everything will be all right.
And I fucking believe it. It's transparent.
The vile overseer,
-Das StripperHerder
*1 Funny Money: For those of you new to this blog and ignorant of the strip club industry in general, funny money is how the club pays it's entertainers when a patron pays with a credit card. It works like this:
You want, for some probably overly optimistic reason, to pay for a one hour champagne room with one of our lovely dancers who you feel like you've made a connection to. You wish to put this on a credit card because hey, what's $500?
Seemed reasonable at the time I'm sure.
But if you don't understand the system and the Floor Walker didn't take the time to explain it to you, then you may be surprised when the receipt comes for you to sign and the total reads $575. That's because since it is not "real" currency, the club can basically charge whatever it wants to sell you some of it. The industry norm in our tier market is 10-15%, but it gets higher in top level clubs.
Therefore if you want to charge $2000 worth of VIP rooms at our club, it'll set you back a minimum of $2300. And here's the real beauty of the whole thing: when the dancers cash them in at the bar, the club takes another 10% from them for turning it into real money. So the club makes 20% right off the top of any VIP credit card transaction.
*2 Hyde: Again, this is for neophytes' sake here. Any experienced 'Herderhead knows exactly what a 'Hyde' is yet I feel compelled to mention it once again to accommodate new readers. A kind, easy going stripper is called a Jekyll. The raving, psychotic thing she becomes after nine shots is a Hyde.
If you see one, best find something interesting to do in the opposite direction.
*3 Snizzery: A portmaneau of Snizz and Misery, or suffering caused by poor vaginal choices.
