Tales From the DJ Booth: 12 Rules for Stripping
Nothing lasts forever, including a career in which drunk men sprinkle cash on the young and beautiful. When it's time to leave the industry, it's your job as a savvy dancer to be prepared for the leap into normie life. Sooner or later, the inevitable will happen in one of two ways: either you, the elderly stripper, will become too old to compete with younger girls and bad hips, or you, the prepared and wise stripper, will find a way to outline your industry escape plan before you start getting forced into day shift rotation.
Rule 9: Plan Your Exit Strategy Now
Astute readers will notice that I didn't leave this tip for the final (12th) column, and that's by design—you should be planning your industry exit plan long before any deadlines or limitations sneak up on you. Think of it like college, in that you probably don't want to wait until your senior year to figure out what you want to do when you leave school (that's how you end up as a strip club DJ). Aside from tragedy or sudden change in religion, most strippers leave the industry in one of two ways: burning out or aging out. The latter is much more difficult, while the former is something to be embraced and parlayed into an adjacent career (podcaster, writer, actress, nurse, etc.). Whether by choice or circumstance, you gotta know when it's time to move on from the club life.
Exit Plan 1: Stack Tips While Young & Dip on Time
Let's say you find yourself on the hotter side of 30, and are just now wrapping up your degree, TikTok follower goals, or engagement facade. If so, consider preparing for your exit now. You don't have to actually exit now, but think of it as getting a really cozy parachute ready for when the plane engines start to sputter. Basically, your goal is to save as much money as you can and then bail when your gut tells you to.
If you're in the early half of your twenties and are experiencing nights where the piles of cash are too big to count, put some of that aside and put it into something like an investment. I'm not a financial advisor (also, we are about to experience the A.I. bubble pop, so even “safe” stocks aren't the best idea), but even if it's a down payment on a house (again, check your local markets before buying a half-million-dollar shed on 82nd), or a long-term, high-yield savings account, do something with your money besides giving it to Ulta and the dispensary. Pretend that the club is going to close tomorrow. Imagine a COVID II and the subsequent lockdowns. Picture yourself without shifts. Then, adopt a budget (and spending habits) that would fit that scenario.
Don't picture yourself as a baddie who can always make it rain, because droughts don't care, and they're always just around the corner. Treat every “good” night as an absolute anomaly, like an exception to the rule. Do not adjust your lifestyle and spending habits to match your income. You don't need to go to Burning Man. You don't need a plastic ass. You don't need lip fillers. You don't even need fake boobs until you've had a kid or two. Drive a cheap and safe car. Get a shitty roommate whose boyfriend cheats with you whenever they fight. Embrace fast food. Be. Cheap. As. Fuck. If there's a perfect age to act broke, hot and entitled, it's somewhere between 21 and 29. Hide your cash and make your dude pay for his own tattoos. Do not pass the Mexico border for spring break, and do not support a line cook, even if his band is about to make it big. Freeze your tips, and thaw them when you're no longer a stripper.
To save even more, find ways to get your bills (and even rent or tuition) paid for without dipping into your club earnings. Smart dancers have customers who will pay their phone bills, help with car repairs, etc., usually in exchange for some spicy DMs or empty promises. There is no need to hide the fact that you're doing what you do for money. Plus, when you apply for a real job and need to list your prior experience, you can put down “I was in the business of capital reallocation, with a focus on redistributing wealth from traveling businessmen into the hands of at-risk, female-identifying youth.” There is no honor among thieves, and if you are extracting capital from guys who view you as objects, you are just doing what Marx and Rand both encourage college students to do. “Shamelessly gold digging from the bourgeois” isn't just a title of a Faith No More B-side; it's a way of life. Do as much of it as you can before you turn thirty.
Exit Plan 2: Stifler's Mom
Most dancers don't want to “age out” into cougar status, which usually involves getting demoted from the better shifts, quietly, by booking agents. Even worse, day shifts don't mean you're just competing with similarly aged and/or attractive dancers—many day-shift girls are young and hot; they just have the option to work Friday evenings if they choose to. The older-than-the-number-on-most-speed-limit-signs stripper does not have the same pull, at least when it comes to busy weekend shifts. If you're a dancer who finds her playlist being put into retro throwback nights, it's time to start looking for an exit.
“But age is a construct, and concepts of beauty are determined by society! I'm great at dancing, and men love my pole tricks. You sound bitter and ignorant...”
So, I'm a 46-year-old DJ. Let me share an anecdote before you get on the wine box and start preaching Tumblr feminism to someone who worked in this industry for longer than most dancers have been alive.
I'm good at what I do when it comes to mixing, blending, and all that fun DJ stuff. My technical proficiency is indisputable. However, most drunk twentysomethings don't dance to merit and street cred—they're into vibes. When I'm behind the booth at the nightclub, I'm still a balding white dude who is too old to date a girl in her late twenties. I'm “unc” as the kids would say (and I didn't even know that was short for “uncool,” until my nephews told me I'm not “unc like that”). No amount of Kendrick Lamar songs or Wu-Tang blends will make up for the fact that I look like an undercover cop when DJ'ing at any venue not located in a strip mall or rural town. In other words, no amount of skill will take away from the fact that my presence will make most customers under 30 feel like they're at the wrong club. Whether or not I like it, being young is an asset in nightclubs. Most DJ tips I get these days aren't for my sick blends and dope mashups—they're because I played “Vape Juice In My Pussy (feat. Lil $hithead)” twice, because the teenager who requested it was outside when I played it the first time. I'm not “wow, what a great mix” old; I'm “I can't believe that guy knows who Fenix Flexin is” old. It's not a good look.
The same thing that applies to my wrinkled DJ fingers also applies to the “you look great for your age” stripper. Whether or not attractiveness is a product of society, patriarchy, biology, Trump, OnlyFans, Playboy, Zionism, mass media, small minds or big wallets, it doesn't matter—strippers make more money when they are young, period. The only exception to this rule is if they're young in the “naive and selling bootyhole pics for a dollar” sense, but that's a matter of maturity, and at least in Portland, age has about as much to do with maturity as skin color has to do with one's appreciation for hip-hop music. I've met barely legal dancers who were fleecing dudes out of thousands without ever taking off their panties, and I've met dancers my age who still go to electronic music festivals using maxed-out credit cards. Maturity (and financial literacy) is only loosely correlated with age. VIP dances that last into the thousand-dollar range? Those are a different story.
For the average tipping customer, younger means hotter, and tips are usually based on how good a stripper looks while naked. “Dancer” is a euphemism—most customers (at strip clubs) aren't tipping strippers because they enjoy the art of dance. Guys just pretend to appreciate your pole work, because you have an ass that wouldn't quit even if it turned 50 while onstage at Last Ditch Pole & Pint. I've brought this up before, but the label for a man who appreciates your dancing for dancing is “gay,” and while gay men are amazing tippers and extremely well-behaved, they make up less than a fraction of a percent of your income. If a straight guy says he enjoys your pole work, he's either lying or asking for a lap dance. So, if you're older but still making good tips, understand that it's because you look younger than your age (not because your two-step is on beat, or your pole tricks are impressive).
Here's the good news about aging out of the strip club scene: if you're reaching the dusk of your stripper career as a result of age, you can gracefully embrace and accept the fact that you're still hot enough to finesse any potential real-world employer into a well-paying gig. You might not be able to outdo “barely legal sorority sister oil wrestling night,” but outside of strip club land, you can damn sure snag that legal assistant job from Ruth or Deborah or whatever LinkedIn creature is currently competing for the position you want.
Should women be hired based on their attractiveness? No. Are they? Yes. I'm in the business of lying to customers, not co-workers. If my honesty seems abrasive, again, I have attempted to mix Drake into Wu-Tang Clan in a real club frequented by Dutch Bros workers within the last month, as a Caucasian who was born in 1980. I'm right there with you. We are both too old for this shit. But you have the ability to bat some eyelashes and land a decent corporate gig. Start looking for one, then slowly replace your shifts at the clubs with intern opportunities at Mayer, Mayer & Oscar as they come in.
Insider Tip: Men Lie
I had the option of writing a non-problematic, inclusive column that reflects all the bullshit I “learned” at Portland State, but instead, I just decided on honesty. I'm not trying to fuck any of you. I'm not trying to push some weird male-man-red-pill-incel-woman-bad agenda. I'm telling you what I've seen—nothing more or less. Age is a factor, time is real, and accepting this will make the second half of your life much easier. You're a stripper, so go full stripper. “Stripper” is a choice, not a race or gender or creed. The stereotypes are true, so go dig that gold. If you're young, act like it, but plan on getting old. If you're old, plan on getting out.
It's not about what should be, what's not fair, or what's moral. Capitalism is a whore, not a saint. Think of a product or service that would make the world a better place. Imagine doing good, standing up against stereotypes, smashing beauty standards, and sticking it to the patriarchy. Now, imagine Dubai Chocolate, Labubu toys, NFTs, and whatever product Sydney Sweeney endorsed this week. What sells more? The market may be evil, cap
italistic, patriarchy-endorsed, ageist, body-shaming, and cruel, but it's also accurate. You wouldn't tell me to try out for the NBA, and I'm not gonna tell you that stripping at 55 years old is a good idea, nor is wasting the money you rake in at 25 by throwing it away on strawberry-flavored dab carts, or tickets to EDC.
I'm being honest, because I'm getting paid the same amount for this column whether or not I am, and I enjoy sleeping at night. However, your customers may not be as honest. At 54 and a half, your regulars will still tell you that you're hot. They'll even tip a dollar or two. Then, they'll get a phone call. Or need a cigarette, just before sneaking off to VIP and dropping a rent check on the girl who just turned 21. So, regardless of your age and looks, plan your exit. If you age out, bounce to a law firm and be the hot secretary (you're still 30 in lawyer years). If you're still too young to get half the references in this column, get a piggy bank, and start shopping at Ross. Then dip when the economy crashes in 2027, and put everything into physical media and surveillance technology.
(SAME FOOTER AS PRIOR MONTHS)
