Last month, I gave you some pointers for how to properly conduct yourselves when you go to a strip club. One article wasn’t nearly enough space to point out the creative ways people find to fuck up and act a fool...so this month, I’ve provided a few more ways a lot of y’all need to clean up your act.
Ahh, cell phones. The double-edged sword of modern convenience and technological enslavement. We have the sum total of human knowledge at our fingertips (I can’t watch a movie or TV show anymore without picking up my phone and opening up IMDB to figure out where I’ve seen that actor before, who wrote, directed, and produced it, and as much interesting trivia as I can learn), and we can reach our friends at any time of day or night (well…not me. I hate talking on the phone, and I have a bad habit of ignoring text messages until it’s a better time to answer, then forgetting all about it, but I digress.). On the other hand, our phones have become a Pavlovian nightmare of never-ending notifications that draw us in at all times and keep our eyes glued to that little screen. We take photos of everything we do, even though most of us never look at those photos ever again. Please work with me on this. Have some awareness when bringing your phone to the club. Do not take photos or videos inside a strip club. Just don’t do it. And while we’re on the subject, that includes selfies, FaceTime calls, and live streaming. If you’re depositing a check with mobile banking, you’re using your phone’s camera, so do that shit outside.
Why are you in a strip club if you’re going to spend the whole time with your eyes glued to your handheld idiot box? What do you see on that screen that could possibly be more interesting than a room full of beautiful, naked women? Nothing. That’s what. Keep your phone in your pocket. If you really need to use it, step outside, or keep your phone flat on the table or bar top in front of you. Don’t leave room for any misunderstanding between me and you. If you’re not pointing your phone at the stage, I won’t have to worry about you taking photos or videos of my dancers without their consent. But really, if you’re just going to spend the whole evening staring at your phone, stay home and spare yourself the cover charge, bar tab, and dancer tips that you’re going to spend at the strip club. If you’re going to the club, do yourself a favor and take the red pill; exit the Matrix for the night. Your notifications, social media, and games will still be waiting for you tomorrow. I promise.
Stage names exist for a very good reason, namely, for the safety and privacy of the dancers. When I was in the Marines, we called this OPSEC, or operational security. You might be surprised to learn that strip clubs can sometimes attract some real creeps; abusers, stalkers, sex offenders, jealous significant others or exes, and the like. Stage names allow dancers to insulate their private lives from such people since they don’t have the luxury of keeping bouncers like me present to protect them ’round the clock. I’ve seen too many customers press my dancers to reveal their government names, and I imagine most of those customers are simply ignorant of the security utility of keeping those government names a closely guarded secret. Please don’t be that customer. The message you’re sending a dancer when you try to play the Rumpelstiltskin game—intended or not—is that her safety means nothing to you. I, myself, try as hard as possible to learn as few dancers’ real names as I can. When I do learn them—even when we’re friends outside of work—I still call that dancer by their stage name, lest I accidentally let their real name slip at the club. It’s that important. On that note, another specific problem I repeatedly see is when a dancer’s friends come to see her at work. They all know that dancer by her real name, and that’s the name they use when they tell me who they’re there to see. If you’re friends with a dancer, it’s fine to go see her at work, but if you really are her friend, please remember to call her by her stage name at the club. You’d feel terrible if something happened to your friend because a stalker overheard you utter her name and used that information to figure out where she lives.
Ladies. If you’re at a strip club and you just HAVE to get on one of the poles, find out when you can come in to audition. That’s it. That’s the only way you should be on the pole at a club where you don’t work. Other than that, knock it the fuck off with your little attention-seeking ass. “But I don’t want to audition; I don’t really want to be a stripper.” Cool, then stop trying to do stripper things. First of all, it’s a liability. Fall off that pole and hurt yourself, and suddenly the club gets hit with a lawsuit. Clubs don’t really want to pay you money for being a dumbass. Second of all, when you get up on that pole, you distract customers from the dancers who are there to make money. At that point, you’re fucking with the dancers’ money, which means you’re fucking with my money, and I have zero patience for either. At my club, I’ll usually give you one warning, and after that, I’ll just kick you the fuck out.
The strip club is not a place to go in hopes of getting your dick wet. You’re not getting a handjob there. Nor are you getting a blowjob, and you’re certainly not gonna fuck. ORS 167.002 – 167.027 spell out the laws concerning prostitution, and the activities I just listed would cause you, the dancer, and the club to all run afoul of those laws, endangering the livelihoods of everyone working there. Now, there are some fantastic sex workers here in Oregon who are pushing for decriminalization—some of whom I count among my friends, and I fully support their efforts. Hopefully, their efforts will clear a path for the things you’re trying to do, but the strip club isn’t the appropriate setting for it. Come buy a lap dance; just don’t go getting it fucked up. It’s a lap dance, nothing more, and if you try for more, you’ll be leaving without finishing the dance or receiving a refund.
If I tell you at the door that the cover charge is five dollars or ten dollars or whatever we happen to be charging at the moment, then that’s what you’re going to pay to get in. I hear a lot of "but I’m going to come in and spend money," or "I’m just going to have a drink," or "I’m just going to gamble." Yeah, the people inside are doing those things too, and guess what? They paid cover. If you think you shouldn’t have to pay cover or pay less, you’re welcome to stroll through the neighborhood and find a bar or club that isn’t charging to get in. Later, when you realize you’re going to pay to get in anywhere, come back and see me. I’ll be charging you five bucks more than what I quoted you earlier, simply because it’s super annoying that you tried to haggle with me on the cover charge. Chances are, if you can’t afford to pay cover, you definitely can’t afford to buy drinks or tip my dancers, so why do I want you as a customer? The same goes for haggling with the dancers over lap dance pricing and with the bartender over the cost of your drinks. Stop being a cheapskate.
Okay, I’ve spoken my piece. It’s up to you what you do with the advice I’ve given on these pages. Take it, and we’ll all have a good night. Ignore it, and I’ll make sure your trip to the club fucking sucks. The choice is yours!
Nate Hazen is a writer, bouncer, and an eight-year veteran of the United States Marine Corps. His approach to bouncer work takes inspiration from USMC General Jim Mattis: “No better friend, no worse enemy.”
