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I Was a Bartender at a Strip Club. Here’s What I Learned about the Men Who Went There
Yeah, yeah, I know. Not ALL men.
In 2002, I was 26, living in a new city, and losing my mind trying to find a job. It was a very quick trip down the ego Slip n’ Slide from looking for teaching jobs one day, down to hoping to fold t-shirts for a few hours a week at the Gap. It didn’t matter what I did, I couldn’t get hired anywhere.
Until I found Déssee.
Déssee (No, not the real name. Are you serious?) was the premier gentleman’s club in the city and based on the number of dancers that lined up to get on the roster, was an international fountain of cash. It was dark, expensive, and had lots of rules like not allowing lap dances and having only one girl on stage at a time. They were looking for a bartender and since I had plenty of experience, I applied.
To my delight, part of the Déssee manifesto was to always keep all eyes on the stage. That meant the rest of the staff wore the same uniform of black pants, black shoes, and a black short-sleeved blouse with a white collar. Basically, Nun Chic. No one was going to hit on Sister Bloody Mary when there was a goddess in a silver micro thong scissoring the stage lighting ten feet away. Even if someone did try to slide into my speed rack, all I had to do was…
