Rocket made these fun lists recently on her blog, and I’ve been inspired to make my own list. If I had an all-time annoying things list, number one would definitely be guys pretending to misunderstand what I’m saying and asking if I want them to dance for me.
10. Customers who dance and sing along to every word…and do not tip. This happens a lot; wasted white girls doing that dance where they raise one arm and stick their pelvises out, young black dudes who jump out of their seats to rap at the stage, middle-aged squares partying after some big Nike meeting. I knew that these guys would respond to Ke$ha. What I didn’t predict was that a) they would hold what was essentially a Ke$ha lyrics battle (really more of a battle yell the loudest, as it were) and b) they didn’t tip me a single dollar. You mean to tell me that I got serenaded by twelve grown men singing about glitter for free? Surely I deserve some kind of compensation for having to witness people aggressively emasculate themselves. Tip or take your midlife crises back to Beaverton.
9. Catfights. Pick your battles, ladies. You really want to yell at someone because she was drying her thong underneath the hand fan at three-second intervals while you were trying to poop? She should wash her thong at home and not in the strip club bathroom sink and you should poop at home or in the bathroom downstairs with the cockroaches and the ceiling that leaks. Problem solved.
8. Tapped out big spenders. “His family like, owns the ocean,” a DJ once told me. (So that would make him… the son of Poseidon?) I think the truth in that rumor has to do with land on Hawaii. But hey, the guy used to spend money like he owned the ocean. Used to. Now he can only buy a drink or two to hang his head in, while he probably remembers the days when girls would line up to suck his dick. It’s hard to see the person who literally threw money around acting like a shell of a man. Maybe he’ll get an inheritance before I retire, but until then, I would like it if he stayed at home so he could stop depressing me.
7. Guys who think they are big spenders. A guy I had met a total of three times let me know that I am a “BIG. PROBLEM” for him. Um, pal, you have visited me three times over the past year, spending $40-$70 per visit. This isn’t exactly going to lead to a second mortgage. But go home, take a cold shower, cut your debit card in half, and read the Bible if you must. Bachelor parties who think that “making it rain” means picking up ones and throwing them again (whilst cheering) also belong in this category. This does not make you ballers, but it does make you a lot of other things, including people who take the water cycle too literally. Do you ever see Weezy bending over and picking money up off the floor? NO! Once it hits the ground, it’s like a desecrated American flag and you can never touch it ever again.
6. Girls who get so fucked up that they dance to the same song twice in a row without realizing it. This happens more than you’d think at clubs with no DJ. It’s like there’s a flicker of recognition in their eyes when the first few notes play, but then they shrug it off and credit what they’re feeling to déjà vu.
5. Grown men who throw hissyfits/can’t hang. Three guys came into my club, two of whom were visiting from out of town. Those two were cool and they each ended up with a girl on their lap. The third one was not friendly and found himself with zero girls on his lap. His guests were having a great time, laughing and drinking, until they noticed that their host had disappeared. He wasn’t answering his phone. He wasn’t in the bathroom. He didn’t smoke but was found outside, where he had gone because he was mad because he wanted to go to a different strip club. Because the strippers are always hotter and the fun is always funner at the club you’re not at. It was 10 o’clock on a Sunday night so there was plenty of time to visit other clubs and see girls that would turn out to be exactly the same quality as the last club. He was coaxed back inside where he proceeded to look at the clock on his phone a lot, and command everyone to finish their drinks. He grew so agitated that he got up and went outside once again, refusing to come back inside until his friends had no choice but to apologize and leave. In the words of the DJ, “I won’t hang out with guys like that.”
4. New girls. Recently one of them showed me her vagina (her vulva, to be accurate) from the front, yelling, “Can you see it?!” I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be looking for. I thought about saying, “Nice to meet you, too,” but settled on “See what?!” A wise 21-year-old figured out what she was doing and yelled that you have to look for a tampon from behind. Then she turned around, trying to look in the mirror from a good 10 feet away, screaming that she couldn’t see anything. I found myself sitting between her vulva and the mirror, caught in the crossfire…needless, senseless crossfire.
3. Dubstep. I know that for some, dubstep is an exciting new genre of future-music, but I hate it. I have to hear “Feel Good” by Modestep and “Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites” by Skrillex multiple times every shift. (I didn’t actually know what they were called and had to google “now let me hear the bass dubstep” and “oh my god dubstep”). I’ve also had to hear dubstep remixes of every single song ever, including “Love Shack.” On second thought, since I can barely manage to dance to dubstep myself, at least customers can’t crowd the stage singing along and dancing…unless they’re doing the robot (which would be tight).
2. Relentlessly grabby customers. Do you want a dance, or do you want to spend four minutes with me trying to predict where your hands/head will move next like this is Whac-A-Mole? We can’t do both, so you have to pick one or the other. These guys are like bad children, but also like serial killers. They’re like future serial killer children and they make me wonder if they’re getting dances to celebrate lighting a cat on fire on their way to the club.
1. People who lie about tipping. Men who sit down in front of tips that were already on the stage, those who tip and then take their money back, and couples splitting one dollar, I see you. You know why I see you? Because I’m elevated above everything and everyone else in the room. This is why men with machine guns are kept in towers, “birds-eye view” means to see a lot of shit, and lifeguards don’t watch the beach from a hole in the sand. Also, we see you in the mirrors even when our backs are turned. The best was the following conversation:
Man stops me when I’m walking by, says, “Hey, great job up there.”
“Thanks! Would you like to tip me for my show?”
“Oh, I already did.”
“Um…no you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, well, I guess I forgot…”
“That’s okay! I’m here now. Better late than never!”
“Oh, uh, well, I’ll just tip you later.”
“Well I’m here now right in front of you…” (This last part repeats itself a few times until I walk away.)