Tonight, I don’t really have any complaints about work. For once.
Sunday night was dead. There were hardly anybody in the club and there was five waitresses = battle time. Table stealing (yes, I was guilty of sweeping in on a table and securing that table with a tab), and customer stealing. I am getting to know a few of the dancers and am able to secure tips by serving them drinks. It was actually pretty cut throat tonight with the lack of people in comparison of the number of waitresses.
The table I secured with a tab, only spent $11.00 I sat with him for a good portion of the night while he told me all about his kids, his grandkids, his life and everything else he could think of to talk about. He tried to leave me a $50 tip but since his tab was only $11, he wasn’t allowed to due to corporate rules. I explained that to him and he got so pissed off. He told the front door girl to scratch off that tip and he will only pay the $11. I thought for sure I lost a tip and then he was saying sorry that it caused so many problems and he really did want to tip me. I suggested that if he REALLY wanted to tip, he can always pull cash out of the ATM. I didn’t think he actually would do that, but he did! He gave me a $60 tip and then the rest of his one’s which totaled $71! I was stoked!! While I was sitting with him, another guy at a table got up, gave us his bucket of beer and then threw down a wad of one’s in front of me. I thought the money goes to the guy because I thought they knew each other but they didn’t. So I was at the right place at the right time tonight.
I hustled the drinks to as many people as possible tonight. I secured another table and was tipped $20 and then hustled some more. I came out of there tonight with $196, which was excellent for how dead it was. And to top it off, I was the top seller tonight, with a whopping $336 in sales. Which, considering how dead it was, is really good! I guess the Tipping Gods finally heard my prayers!
On to the weird part of the night. Since working at my place of employment, I never get out of there without something weird happening. There was a small man, who came up to maybe my shoulders. He was drinking slow and steady the whole night and then bought me a “shot”. As we were sitting there he was speaking to me in broken Spanish. After struggling to communicate for a few minutes I finally realized what he wanted. For $20 he wanted me to go out to his car. I told him no. He offered me $40 to go out to my car or in the parking lot. I told him no. Finally, I got up and walked away from him and dodged him for the rest of the night. I saw him periodically getting dances and he was quite the topic of conversation in the back with the girls for what a jerk he was.
By this time, its the end of the night and I am tired. My feet hurt, my back hurts, my eyes won’t stop tearing, and I am exhausted. I sit down with some guy and strike up a conversation with him. He seemed harmless enough but what a story teller he was! This is what he told me. He went to Brooks Institute (Do you know what this is? Yes, I replied. Its a photography school. He had his ID from ages ago, still in his wallet and I know he flashes that around like he is “someone”). He then name dropped all the people he has worked with and for and blah blah blah and Los Angeles and blah blah blah and I was in the “scene” blah blah blah, my dad killed himself, blah, mom is Catholic, blah, i was in a band, played with all these people in the 80’s, blah, I am a well known photographer…. let me tell you what every subject I have ever photographed in my life, blah, … Oh, I am a floater with my job blah, I am somebody super important and you should feel privileged to be talking to me but I am sitting alone in a strip club trying to impress a waitress about my tall tales…Then the most awesome thing ever? He says he just moved back to Texas from California a few weeks ago, already has a TX license from ages ago, has a house out here, a lease, but isn’t tied down and is going to move home with his parents. He passed the time, didn’t grope me and wasn’t all that bad. I tuned in enough to respond if he ever let me.
End of the night. Time to go. I clean up and change into my street clothes, walk out the door and the creepy guy who tried to buy me for $20 to go to his car is hanging around my car. Naturally I am creeped out, have my pepper spray turned “on” and then realized I was not going to walk over there. He might be small, but he is a guy and a drunk guy at that. So I go attempt to get back in the club and all the doors are locked. I am running from the back door to the front door with my head chopped off. I talk to the cleaning people and they didn’t understand a lick of English and finally the managers were leaving. I ran around the building and one of them already was leaving so I flagged down the other one. I asked him to walk me to my car because that guy spooked me. He did, we made a joke about the raccoons and then hung around till I left. It was the hot manager who walked with me and once the creepo saw us walking he kinda walked away and then came back. It was the first time I had ever been scared of one of the guys that were there. I realized that my pepper spray isn’t as good as I thought it was. I should be carrying something else. However, I don’t want to carry a gun in my purse because one of the gals in the back might steal it. I can only imagine what a drunk girl with a gun would do in the club. So, I have to figure this out. Maybe a gun shop will have something stronger than pepper spray. Or perhaps have a stung gun. I can always keep it behind the bar.
All you males out there… what do you suggest the best thing to do? Besides quitting my job.