I find it ironic that just a couple of short years ago I was writing about Floor Guys who are burned out and should quit the industry and now I am exhibiting all the classic signs of burn out myself. I am a terrible Floor Host nowadays. Any drive or obligation I felt to be the best stripperherder I could be has slowly drained out of me, leaving only a sarcastic, scowling husk behind.
My attitude has been getting more and more ambivalent of late and I'm not concerned by that at all. I'm much less of a "Floor Host" and much more a "Bouncer" these days and I don't care much about that either. Fuck it. I'm making the same money as I would if I actually gave a shit and that's the only reason I haul my shambling carcass into work day after day- money.
I hate my job just that much less than I hate being broke and homeless.
I gave up on job satisfaction a long time ago. Ditto for 'career advancement' or 'occupational pride' or 'not feeling like a scumbag'.
What brought this to the forefront of my mind is when I was laying in bed the other night, replaying some of the days events in my head. I recalled an interaction I had with an out of town customer outside the club. The guy was pretty fucking dumb of course and as a result of his diminished intellect he asked me what I felt to be a stupid question as I was walking from the bus to the front door.
"Hey man, how do I get into this club?"
Now there were many avenues open to me in how I could've responded to him and I'm going to outline what I should've done and said as opposed to what I actually did and said.
What I Should Have Done: Stopped walking and turned to face the customer. Make eye contact, smile and introduce myself. Shake his fucking hand. Escort him and his friends to the door and hold it open for them. So welcoming, so warm, so friendly. Once inside the club I should have found a table for them and let them know where the men's room is, how to get to the smoking patio and made sure they got a waitress etc etc.
But instead, and fairly typically:
What I Actually Did: Kept walking past him, never even so much as glancing at him and said "I usually use the front door." No joking at all, that's exactly how I handled the situation and what I said to him. Then he called after me "How much is it to get in?"
"$10 or same day game ticket" I called back over my shoulder as I went in the front door, ending any possibility of further interaction.
When I thought back to that, I couldn't believe that I've regressed so much without even realizing it on a conscious level. Sure, subconsciously I knew I was shit at the job lately, but I never really admitted to myself just how far I had fallen. I'm in a rut so deep I've been looking at wallpaper options.
But to illustrate how little my actions oftentimes mean, the customer and his whole group made their way into the club, had a good time and spent a few bucks. My apathetic countenance seemingly didn't even phase them. Maybe that's how they're used to being treated, I don't know. But when I thought about it in retrospect, I was surprised at myself for just how shittily I handled that aspect of my job.
Cuh-stO-mer Ree-LAY-shuns. It gets harder as you get older....
The latest thing that's beginning to compete with road rage over what will finally drive me to slay another human being is begging. Seeing as how I work in a metropolitan area, being hit up for money goes with the program. I expect it when I'm downtown. There are a lot of homeless people that need to get drunk or high and they float through the downtown area like small, fucked-up looking whales, straining money like it's krill from an ocean of restaurant and bar goers.
Comes with the territory.
The problem is that they're not just downtown anymore, nor is it just the homeless, drunk and lazy that wants free money out of my wallet. Nossir. I'm subject to being asked for money every time I go into a grocery store, a drug store and even convenient stores. All these places want to know if I'd like to donate a dollar to Blah Blah Blah. And I almost always do.
I figure hey, it's only a dollar, maybe it will actually help someone. I feel guilty if I say no. I think South Park did a whole episode about this, so watch that and you'll see what I mean.
But outside of retail, the beggars are spreading to the burbs. And it's not just your generic homeless old drunk guy anymore. I get hit up by young, able bodied people who have no apparent barriers to getting a job other than they just don't seem to want to work. Maybe these are the 'professional beggars' I've seen in documentaries. White suburban kids who've figured out they can make $100 a day or more by begging with a good backstory and a suitably piteous appearance.
I don't know. For some reason there doesn't appear to be any stigma in asking complete strangers for charity anymore. I'm not sure why this is or when it happened, although I believe the rise of social media with it's associated crowd sourcing and gimmefundsnow campaigns has certainly contributed to the lack of shame some folks exhibit in what is, let's face it, begging.
Holding a bowl out. Shaking a cup a people.
Let me outline a couple of incidents in the last week that have really ruined it for anyone that I might have given money to in the future.
First off, one of the most insidious species of beggar is the Offramp Tramp. We've all seen them, some pathetic looking bastard holding a sign full of lies at the red lights on freeway offramps. Every couple of minutes he has a captive audience and goddamn it's fucking uncomfortable when they stare at you.
So the other day I had no choice but to go to the grocery store because my cupboards were bare and I was hungry. And I think I needed some vodka too. The easiest store to get to that could fulfill both these requirements was one exit down on my local highway. Maybe a mile at best.
When I rounded the corner of the offramp heading toward a redlight, I could already see the Tramp with his sign, putting on his 'pity-me' face. I sighed. How aggravating was this shit? On my goddamn day off.
I ignored the guy and waited for the light to change and made my way to the store. I went in and got my stuff and when I made my way out of the parking lot and had to stop at a redlight, lo and behold there was another, completely different beggar holding up a different sign with different lies on it, wanting some of my money.
Shit you not. Double tagged in a day where I only left my apartment that one time for a two mile round trip.
In another and very similar incident two days later, I was again forced to leave my sanctum to get some Taco Bell. I got my crappy but delicious food and headed back to my lair. I had parked in the rear of the building and was walking to the front and saw that a pedestrian was coming down the sidewalk and that our paths would intersect, and indeed be shared for the 30 feet it would take me to get to the front door.
Sure enough, this person, only the second sapient creature I had interacted with that day, asked me for money. So did the first one, but it was her job and she wouldn't have handed over the tacos without me paying her.
This guy's excuse was that he needed to go somewhere on the bus, blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening and told him I didn't have any money even as I realized we could both hear the change bouncing around in my pocket as I walked.
In retrospect I wonder how he would've reacted to that if I'd been smaller than him...
Seriously, when you literally only interact with 2 humans in a day and 50% of them try to beg money off you, right on your doorstep, it gets super fucking aggravating. I guess the shame, if there ever was any, goes away after the first week or so. I wouldn't know. I've asked a stranger for money exactly one time in my life and that was for a quarter to put some air into the tire of my car, which I was standing right next to. Clearly not begging for beer money, nor asking for an amount that would do me any good.
I remember when I was growing up and sometimes my Mom couldn't make ends meet and I'd have to go with her to the local Episcopal church to pick up a box of food. My Mom swallowed her pride to keep her kids fed by taking pity food from utter strangers, at least that's the way we looked at it. We're sure weren't having a good time going to a church with our hands out, but it was either that or steal, and there are some depths you just don't sink to.
But nowadays, things seem to be different.
Other humans are there to support you and your alcoholism. Don't fret about not being a productive member of society, we'll do it for you. I enjoy working a job I hate so other people can just mooch off my efforts, it makes me feel useful.
Put me in charge. I'll put a euthanasia program in place, see how fast the problem goes away.
Argh. I hate everything.
Mary Fuckmas,
The StripperHerder
