10 Simple Rules for Being a Good Customer

at the Fucking Strip Club

A blunt, brutally honest, and tastefully written guide

 

          Over the years, I've dealt with a few pretty ridiculous situations.  Often times, we meet customers who have never been to a strip club before, or even customers who have been to other places where things that they're used to are prohibited in our club.  In general, most places don't allow touching the dancers on stage, certain behaviors in the private rooms, or exchanging of phone numbers.  I've compiled a (slightly disgruntled) list of things I'd like to say to customers' faces when they walk in, just so there are no nasty surprises.  However, I've been told by management that it tends to drive customers away when someone greets them by screaming obscenities at them, so I refrain.  

 

 

1.)  Tip if you're at the fucking stage.

If you don't like who's on stage, be a fucking gentleman and excuse yourself to a fucking table.

 

 

 

2.)  Don't be a twat.

That's pretty simple, right?  ...Right?

 

 

 

3.)  Stop trying to fuck me.  

I want your money, not your dick.  As crude as it sounds, it's true.  I come to work for to make money.  That's what a fucking job is for.  I'm not “DTF” you, your buddy, or your buddy's sister.

 

 

 

4.)  Stop offering me your drugs.

Trust me, if I want drugs I'm going to get them from someone I actually know.  Not some jackass who I just met 5 minutes ago.  I appreciate the offer, but kindly fuck off with that bullshit.

 

 

 

5.)  Don't ask what my real name is.

For fuck's sake, do you really think I would pick a different name from my real one if I was just going to give everyone the real one, anyway?  Stop bitching that you gave me your real name.  I really don't care. I'm probably going to forget that you exist as soon as you leave.  If you want to “play that game”, then give me your fake name, too.

 

 

 

6.)  Don't fucking touch me.

...And don't be a fucking douche when I kick you in the fucking throat for doing it.

 

 

 

7.)  Don't ask for my fucking phone number or real social media profile.  

I'm not going to give you my phone number, because I have enough assholes that bother me as it is.  If you want facebook/twitter/instagram, you're getting the page for my entertainer persona.  Don't be a little bitch about it.
 

 

 

8.)  I don't give a shit about your fucking car or how much you make an hour.

If your money and your truck are your only redeeming qualities, you're a twat.  It's probably a fucking Cummins, anyway.
 

 

 

 

9.)  Hold a fucking conversation about something other than my tits.

Yes, entertainers love the compliments but that doesn't mean that's all we want to fucking talk about.  We're people too, dickwad.  Some of us are gamers, some of us are in college.  Believe it or not, you may find out that you have a lot common with an entertainer when you aren't being a total cunt.

 

 

 

10.)  No, I really don't want to join in on your "riveting kayaking excursion" next weekend.

Seriously.  I've got shit to do, and I don't fucking know you.  Asking me to come out with you and your buddies is about as bad as trying to lure me into your sex dungeon.  It's not going to fucking happen.  Besides, you act like I wouldn't be bringing my boyfriend along, just to piss you off.  

 

 

 

          We love most of our customers.  We get to meet a lot of wonderful people who have very interesting stories to share, and who are fun to spend time with at work.  A lot of our customers become our actual friends.  They understand that the dancers are there to work and make our money so we can pay our bills.  I'm glad that we usually deal with very few idiots, but if you've left your house at any point in the past century, you know that they're everywhere regardless of what job you have, where you're driving, and what groceries you're buying.  Idiocy is like a disease, running rampant through our society - so, please, cover your mouth when you speak to prevent unnecessary contamination of unsuspecting bystanders.  

 

 

Always,

    Riley