(no subject)
customers have really been getting to me lately. like, once again I am so burned out it feels like they're literally pulling pieces of my skin off. This is especially true at Magic, less so at Mary's, and I think the stage set up has something to do with this. Also the fact that I generally only work with Nikki, and this allows room for a fair amount of protection, in that she's not going to let anyone fuck around, much less fuck with me. (You should see her when someone tries to grab me for a look at a tattoo.)
Today some guy I've never even noticed before, but who apparently has been, uh, a fan for a while, came in and wanted to buy me a drink; I forgot to tell her I wasn't drinking so I was stuck with a shot of jager which I then had to figure out how to dispose of with him watching and trying to emotionally bond with me over drinks... that gotten rid of I then had to maneuver him into buying me another, fake drink, which Nikki & I would then split between us with a profit of one dollar and five respectively. This can get lucrative fairly quickly, but, alas, he showed up too late in the shift for that. Anyway.
He kept apologising to me for being greasy and smelly, he's a metallurgist (um, okay... smile and nod and try to keep him talking so much that all I have to do is keep smiling.) but he kept apologising and demanding my approval, or at least my forgiveness, and finally I busted out with, 'you know what, I'd rather be sitting next to you, greasy as you are, than those clean cut shitheads over there.' And of course the poor sap asked why.
'Because I'm at work and they're not tipping me a goddamn dime, despite their middleclass cleanliness.' pause. 'Um, do you still want that dance?'
he did. 'But let me get this straight. You prefer sitting next to me?'
It's amazing the things people can not hear. I can continuously ignore abusive behaviour, he absolutely clung to the belief that I was sitting with him because I was interested in building a relationship. He kept on tipping well though, so he must have heard me on some level.
Anyway, the dance was harder to negotiate. He kept repeating that he didn't want to have a private dance because he was too dirty, while I patiently reiterated that I didn't care, finally exploding 'I'm at work. It's my job. I don't CARE THAT YOU'RE DIRTY.' I managed to bite back 'It's not like I'm going to be touching you' just in case he thought that was a part of the deal. I wanted the 20$ safely in my garter before saying any such thing.
But, he didn't try to touch me, even though halfway through the dance I'd begun wishing he would so I could clock him. It would have been so easy! So satisfying! oooh. Anyway.
'I'm so sad we didn't meet outside the bar, I mean, I really want to know you and now I'm just a customer. It really sucks that we can't take it to a personal level, I'd really like to be your friend.'
'You can be my friend...' gritted teeth.
'Really? well, I'll come back and see you, yeah, I'd like to get to know you. I mean, if we'd met outside the club...'
I would never have talked to you, I would, in fact, have steered as clear of you as possible. Actually, if you hadn't been tipping me fives on stage and bought me two six dollar shots, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have come within a foot of you. So be glad for your smelly job which enables you to pay for these services you CREEPY CREEPY MOTHERFUCKER.
no, I didn't say that. I said 'I'm working Friday, maybe I'll see you then?'
'Yes! I look forward to getting to know you, and being your friend. We can work on it then!'
Um, yeah... SMILE. 'I have to go change now.'
I try, I really do, to see these guys as lonely people with no social skills who just need some kind of contact. That's all so many of them are. But god, even those ones, even given that view, it sucks so much out of me sometimes. I want to tell them they don't pay me enough for me to be making them feel this cool, I want to ask them if they know how unutterably boring it is listening to them talk, if they really believe my time and energy are worth a dollar a song, especially fucking Dan who rats girls out to Vicki if they're late to the stage, even though he's always the first and only customer for a half hour in the mornings, even though he only tips a dollar every other song and still expects a full performance, full nudity, full engagement with his crappy self. Oooh, I hate Dan. He pulls the same shit at Magic, only at least there getting onstage is optional til there's more than two customers in the bar.
Now, Dan's gaze is totally draining. He sits there at 11am, waiting. 'Thrill me' his stare says. 'Talk to me, perform, I am here and that is your job.' If you try to just sit and talk with him, no dice. No cash. No nothing. Just a long, dull recitation of how, actually, he's still on the clock and thus GETTING PAID TO BE WATCHING YOU, while you, you are not getting paid anything other than his three dollas an hour.
AWESOME DAN! I am so glad you're here.
so I was late to the stage and he'll rat me out, because that's what he does. he has no life except what we allow him at Mary's, and, really, I suppose I should be sorry, but I'm not. Dancing for him is the most effortful part of any tuesday or monday, and I'm including my creepo fan interaction. Dan is a fucking vampire and I KNOW I'm not the only one who feels that way, despite my burned out, hair trigger customer directed rage.
um, anyway.
I'm done.
Today some guy I've never even noticed before, but who apparently has been, uh, a fan for a while, came in and wanted to buy me a drink; I forgot to tell her I wasn't drinking so I was stuck with a shot of jager which I then had to figure out how to dispose of with him watching and trying to emotionally bond with me over drinks... that gotten rid of I then had to maneuver him into buying me another, fake drink, which Nikki & I would then split between us with a profit of one dollar and five respectively. This can get lucrative fairly quickly, but, alas, he showed up too late in the shift for that. Anyway.
He kept apologising to me for being greasy and smelly, he's a metallurgist (um, okay... smile and nod and try to keep him talking so much that all I have to do is keep smiling.) but he kept apologising and demanding my approval, or at least my forgiveness, and finally I busted out with, 'you know what, I'd rather be sitting next to you, greasy as you are, than those clean cut shitheads over there.' And of course the poor sap asked why.
'Because I'm at work and they're not tipping me a goddamn dime, despite their middleclass cleanliness.' pause. 'Um, do you still want that dance?'
he did. 'But let me get this straight. You prefer sitting next to me?'
It's amazing the things people can not hear. I can continuously ignore abusive behaviour, he absolutely clung to the belief that I was sitting with him because I was interested in building a relationship. He kept on tipping well though, so he must have heard me on some level.
Anyway, the dance was harder to negotiate. He kept repeating that he didn't want to have a private dance because he was too dirty, while I patiently reiterated that I didn't care, finally exploding 'I'm at work. It's my job. I don't CARE THAT YOU'RE DIRTY.' I managed to bite back 'It's not like I'm going to be touching you' just in case he thought that was a part of the deal. I wanted the 20$ safely in my garter before saying any such thing.
But, he didn't try to touch me, even though halfway through the dance I'd begun wishing he would so I could clock him. It would have been so easy! So satisfying! oooh. Anyway.
'I'm so sad we didn't meet outside the bar, I mean, I really want to know you and now I'm just a customer. It really sucks that we can't take it to a personal level, I'd really like to be your friend.'
'You can be my friend...' gritted teeth.
'Really? well, I'll come back and see you, yeah, I'd like to get to know you. I mean, if we'd met outside the club...'
I would never have talked to you, I would, in fact, have steered as clear of you as possible. Actually, if you hadn't been tipping me fives on stage and bought me two six dollar shots, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have come within a foot of you. So be glad for your smelly job which enables you to pay for these services you CREEPY CREEPY MOTHERFUCKER.
no, I didn't say that. I said 'I'm working Friday, maybe I'll see you then?'
'Yes! I look forward to getting to know you, and being your friend. We can work on it then!'
Um, yeah... SMILE. 'I have to go change now.'
I try, I really do, to see these guys as lonely people with no social skills who just need some kind of contact. That's all so many of them are. But god, even those ones, even given that view, it sucks so much out of me sometimes. I want to tell them they don't pay me enough for me to be making them feel this cool, I want to ask them if they know how unutterably boring it is listening to them talk, if they really believe my time and energy are worth a dollar a song, especially fucking Dan who rats girls out to Vicki if they're late to the stage, even though he's always the first and only customer for a half hour in the mornings, even though he only tips a dollar every other song and still expects a full performance, full nudity, full engagement with his crappy self. Oooh, I hate Dan. He pulls the same shit at Magic, only at least there getting onstage is optional til there's more than two customers in the bar.
Now, Dan's gaze is totally draining. He sits there at 11am, waiting. 'Thrill me' his stare says. 'Talk to me, perform, I am here and that is your job.' If you try to just sit and talk with him, no dice. No cash. No nothing. Just a long, dull recitation of how, actually, he's still on the clock and thus GETTING PAID TO BE WATCHING YOU, while you, you are not getting paid anything other than his three dollas an hour.
AWESOME DAN! I am so glad you're here.
so I was late to the stage and he'll rat me out, because that's what he does. he has no life except what we allow him at Mary's, and, really, I suppose I should be sorry, but I'm not. Dancing for him is the most effortful part of any tuesday or monday, and I'm including my creepo fan interaction. Dan is a fucking vampire and I KNOW I'm not the only one who feels that way, despite my burned out, hair trigger customer directed rage.
um, anyway.
I'm done.