Two Feet And A Heartbeat

To think that over the years I have given thousands upon thousands of dollars to that special place in all of our hearts, a little place many Americans shop every day. I never, not in 50 lifetimes, thought I would be on this side of the fence where I would become part of this machine. Eventhough I do enjoy a fair amount of anonymity here on this blog and in social media, my conscious forbids me from revealing the name and/or location of this place of employment since over the years I have read the many instances where corporate retaliation ends up in termination of employment. So, for now, until I know what I can say legally, I will remain as vague as I please. Y’all have a fucking imagination I would assume, this would be a fine time to start using it. But wait, this post is about two jobs actually. I think before I begin I will say that yes, I did consider an offer to go back to being a bartender. An option that was quickly dismissed by my significant other unless it comes down to being the very last resort. I will be the first to tell y’all that $28.59 an hour, 30 hours a week, and NO weekends was a very hard opportunity to turn down and dismiss. With that being said, I respect my wife’s wishes. Yes, it would mean going back to the very club I worked before. New here and curious? Just search my blog for the answers you seek.

Anyway, I have been trying to get back in at the very place which laid me off 18 months ago because they are hiring now, the money is decent, and I know the work involved inside and out. I’m a perfect fit. One problem though, a big problem, the position doesn’t open until the 3rd week in August. Which means, plainly, that I can’t want another month for a job I don’t even know if I will be hired for in the first place. Fortunately for me, taking a night shift weekend job gives plenty of opportunities to work day shifts full or part time at the same time. Seems, as I have seen, its almost better to have two part time jobs. I have also noticed, in this being round two in an 18 period, that many companies are simply looking for people with two feet and a heartbeat to fill mindless jobs for $9.00 an hour. Unless you’re fucking McDonalds, where I was turned down employment opportunities because I lacked one year of fast food restaurant customer service experience, identifying that I don’t have the skills to serve their products to the demanding public. Yea, WTF is the term you are searching for. Which, for me personally, gives me one more reason to hate that company with a bitter fucking passion.

Oh right, get back to the present, and tell y’all about the job I will be taking, in fact I just spoke with the HR and I’m to go in for completion of my paperwork and orientation later today. Meanwhile, I will continue my pursuits in getting on the payroll of one of two former employers again. I have not been enjoying this fucked up little journey, but I have come out of it a little wiser in my opinion. This whole thing begs the question, why is my lack of customer service experience make me a least desirable employee versus a high school kids looking for his/her very first job? Is it because I have the obvious demeanor on my face that states I’m not a people person? I cannot help it, people have jaded my views over the years of my life which have given me fantastic people skills. It truly is a double edged and double standard society we are a part of. All I know is I’m not a candidate to prostitute myself out for sex because there isn’t much of a market for someone pushing fifty in the parts I live in. Plus, my wife would have issues with it. Too bad selling my blood and sperm wouldn’t be too profitable because I have plenty of both. Plus, I’m a rare blood type, AB-, that should be worth much more wouldn’t you think?

What’s a fucking shame is that my disability is in such a mess or I would just quit working altogether. I shouldn’t say it like that, but it’s very true. Someone recommended I monitize my blog with advertising, or sell shit here and in an online store, and a few other ways to use this blog to make money. I won’t ever do it because this blog is my hobby and would cease to be enjoyable if it became work. Hell, people coming here is their unfortunate accident to begin with so it really would not work out well. I’m boring enough without trying to sell y’all shit you don’t need or want. In the end maybe this new job will help get things back on track. I can hope, right?

Now I’m Just A Little Fucking Pissed

I hope the right motherfuckers are going to be reading this post because I have a message for you that you motherfuckers need to listen to and understand. I reference three physical letters of response I received yesterday after I spent hours, many of them months ago, filling out forms, questionnaire, social surveys, household income surveys, military background questionnaires, background checks, applications, and residency verification. Thanks for allowing me to waste my fucking time and your time. I look back now at the time it took y’all to process everything and see why people are frustrated with the fucking wait. Y’all fuckers want to know what is super fucked up? I qualified for the three services I applied for based on my income, employment status, and residency according to all three of the assistance organizations legal standards. I think I get the picture tho, because I really find it to be racial, because NO other reasons were given, unless “we’re sorry you were not qualified for assistance” is a reason. Is it because I’m white that assistance isn’t available? Since I’m white I shouldn’t be unemployed? Is that why we need me to list my race? Is that the first page y’all fucks look at?

Personally, now that a clear stance has been made, I’m beginning to understand what many people say these days, and that is that you need me to have a job because so many depend on my paycheck. I’ve been busting my ass working since I was 14, to include my time in the Air Force and the last fifteen years since I got out of the military. For what exactly? To be told by people who hide behind a form letter that because I’m white I don’t qualify for financial aid or any kind of anything, not even food stamps, nothing. That’s fucking great, I understand now that I am not allowed into the elite group because I’m not an alcoholic, drug dependant, I don’t have excess children with different last names, I’m legal to be in the United States, I’m white, I’m not a felon, I own my guns legally, I am a disabled veteran, and I’ve never received anything in any form of prior assistance. What exactly does it take for help for a white man when I’m in need? I could really do with less go fuck yourself letters!

But why should you give a flying fuck about me? Did I not donate to your political party? Do I not support the government your way? Is it because I speak English and don’t believe I need to push “1” for English? Why? Being white and speaking English seems to be holding me back. Oh, yea, btw, I appreciate all of my original paperwork y’all sent me to fill out being in Spanish, it was a real pleasure contacting your offices to have forms sent to me in English. I’m bet my German last name really fucking confused you fucktards. Or is it just the government standard to shotgun blast out Spanish forms in hopes of identifying potential illegal voters? Don’t worry, I’m not the only one that knows that even dead or fictional characters get to vote, receive government assistance, and are signed up for obamacare. But as long as there are politicians and government offices it is only going to get worse. But fuck, why do you care, you got a job, a paycheck, and get to fuck with people’s lives for entertainment. Yay you!

Sadly, like the voices of many legal American citizens, my voice remains muted. I’m the wrong color living in the wrong state to to quality for anything more than being on a mailing list. Let’s not forget, you overly arrogant motherfuckers, that y’all sent me the initial bullshit in the mail offering the assistance, I did not seek you out. Who would of thought sending shit to a person with a German last name would have result in that person being white? Do I think our system is fucking broke? Yes. Do I think this system is racist? Yes. Do I personally think it will ever change? Not in my fucking lifetime it won’t. So fuck you, that’s why, I will figure something out.

Believe It Or Not, I Start Work Tomorrow

Doesn’t everyone wish they had cheerleaders to help them celebrate the small victories in life? I know I do, but settle for the ones in my head. Anyway, if y’all read a few posts back about my dumb luck then this news will not come as a surprise to y’all. If not, go review and come back. When I last spoke of the job, well I was only considering it, as if tomorrow morning I start my new job. Yes, I’m happy, and yes the money will come in handy.

What does that mean for my blogs? I don’t know yet. I will assume I won’t have the time during the day to jack around here so that leaves the evenings and weekends if I did the math correctly. In reality, I know my next few months are going to be packed with studying so I can get my CDL reinstated in a timely manner. Not to worry, I have no intention of shutting either blog down or letting them get covered in dust. All I can do is hope that I will have the time and energy to do what I like doing here. No worries please, I’m not abandoning y’all, just getting back on track in life, that’s all.

So, anyway, I just wanted to warn y’all the inevitable day has arrived, don’t be skeered because I’m not, I’m actually pretty damn excited about it. Y’all know I will continue to find things to write about or otherwise post, its what I do.

These Creatures Stalk The Nights

Just when I thought I had been away long enough that it wouldn’t make a difference any longer I was quickly proven dead wrong. I went ahead and accepted a temporary bartending position at Club X while the management attempts to fill the vacancy. As much as I didn’t want to I bit the bullet and went in last night. This time I had terms because I had no intention of making this permanent again. As my 10-99 was already on file with Club X all I really needed to do early yesterday afternoon was go in and sign some paperwork and give them a current copy of my contractors liability insurance policy. The contract is for 60 days and states I will only be required to work 10 hours a night for two nights a week, Wednesdays and Thursdays, beginning on 11 June 2014. Employee will be paid at the end of his shift each Thursday at the agreed rate of $900.00 per day equalling, but not limited to $1800.00 per pay period. Employee will not tip out 35% of tip proceeds to the bar or the house, employee will keep all tip proceeds, paid out in cash, each night. In the event employee exceeds the agreed 20 hours weekly the employee will be compensated at the rate of $135.00 per additional hour. Employee is required to provide his own transportation and will be compensated at the rate of $1.61 per mile to include the distance traveled in each direction to fulfill the terms of this contract. After reviewing the contract I signed and dated it, made me copy, and headed home for a nap because it was going to be a long fucking night.

All of this was discussed with my wife over the weekend and we agreed that I could do it for the next 8 weeks but “prefers” I do not accept anything permanent afterwards. The money will be nice and it will help but I wondered if it was all worth doing over again. I remember clearly why I chose to stop being a bartender at a full nude strip club and as I rode into “work” I almost talked myself out of even going. Plus, it was a nice evening to ride and I was enjoying my tour through Houston. I did go, I followed through with the obligation I agreed to, what the hell, just roll the dice. After parking my Goldwing in the back of the club I smoked a quick cigarette while I stripped off my leathers in preparations to go inside. Ready. Set. Go. I had a part of a song stuck in my head that was so fitting to me walking through the doors of Club X, “you’re a crazy bitch but I like the way you fuck me so I’m on top of it”. Exactly. This was like I imagine it would feel if I were ever to have taken my psycho cunt ex-wife back when we were just separated. She tried hard, in the end, to fuck me ways I never dreamt she was capable of. Because for 12 years I always got the impression it was a ” obligatory chore” she performed. In the end it was actually like she wanted to be there and actually liked me a little. But, it was a game I was not going to play, the end. Similar to my leaving the club, I was tired of the lies, the drama, and the bullshit that came with being a bartender there.

I quickly was reminded that the “scenery” inside the club was always fantastic and generally could make a man forget his problems outside the walls of the club. But I don’t have problems outside I am trying to forget or drown, all if mine, all of my fears, were inside the club, and as I walked to the bar I tried not to focus in the past. Instead, I was greeted by Grace, a friend I had here who remembered me quite well. Nothing beats being greeted but a completely nude 5’11” stunning brunette with sweat dripping off her glistening body. All I am saying is it was a very pleasant surprise which actually was a great distraction. She was assigned to be my assistant at the bar, meaning she was assigned to the stage that also is my bartop and will entire customers to not only try new drinks but to enjoy them served in a different way, something that disappeared when I did. If you are new, curious, or can’t remember, you can search this blog’s bartender stories which some explain in graphic detail the way shots/drinks get served some times. But, because it plays into this night I will explain it some. Imagine Grace on her back, laid across the bar, legs spread while her ass is propped up with her hands, providing me with the perfect “cavity” to pour the ingredients of a Texas Tea, topped off with a orange slice, drink umbrella, a a straw for sipping. That is a $75.00 drink ensemble (interactive drink with personal show) and it began an onslaught of repeats. We did 73 of these drinks with a variety of drinks. Which means money for me and Grace, $13.00 goes to the bar, $50.00 goes to Grace, and the remaining $12.00 goes to me. Which means I picked up an additional $876.00 in tips I wasn’t expecting and she got over $3600.00 for letting drinks be sipped out of her tiny little vagina.

Eventhough these ensemble drinks keep me busy I also had to do my actual job. It was a fast paced night, I hope the rest of the nights I will be working fly by so fast. Plus, the extra money in tips will work out nicely as well. Maybe my fears are because I left on a bad note before, being burnt out has a negative effect on my attitude, but I think I might be able to tolerate this all the way through. We’ll see, since only time can really tell. Anyway, I’m going to be fishing for a while longer. After 2 hours of sitting here I have had two bites, maybe they are playing hide and seek today.

Another Life, Another Time

I generally get a handful of texts and e-mails every week from people I worked with at Club X. Usually just to let me known whats been happening and what will be happening. I suppose it is done to “keep me in the loop” even though I have been out of that loop for quite some time now. I generally do not reply to 99% because there usually isn’t anything for me to say. Now, I have two people, one stripper and one waitress, that I do keep up with and talk to regularly because we all became decent friends over the years I worked there. What makes them special you might ask? I will make a long story short, because it actually took me a few months to figure out what was going on. In the beginning I thought there was just the waitress who also was a stripper on her off nights. She would talk to me like normal regardless of what shoes she was wearing that night. Then, out of the blue, after a couple of months, she was on the dance floor stripping and at the same exact time she was waitressing. I thought I had lost my damn mind at first and then they both came over to the bar I was working and sat down, the both smiled while they just sat there looking at me. Yes, now I know, they are twin sisters. There had always been the two of them and few, if anybody, knew about it. Most people in the club thought the same thing I did. Anyway, a friendship grew and developed and now they keep in contact with me quite a bit.

This morning I get an e-mail from them asking me if I miss being a bartender there. They also known I was laid off and wanted to known why I just don’t come back. Do I miss being a bartender there? Not really. I do miss the money but I have said this all before now. I’m sure I could go back to bartending and it would be a decent paycheck, but I walked away when I did for some very specific reasons, first and foremost it was because I was done working nights and second is the hours I worked. It was a freaking part time job yet I worked 50-60 hours a week while having a day job doing 40 hours a week. You do the math, I was tired, more like exhausted, no walked around like a freaking zombie most days. So, I gave up bartending at the strip club, with that I have up about $100k a year, so yes, it has been missed. However, after doing that for 5 years, I socked away a nice start to a retirement, which, so far, we haven’t had to dip into, as of yet. I think it would take something very drastic to get me to go back permanently. Not that time is not now. I liked it after I quite, I see my family now and we have relationships now, something we could not have when I was working nights. I won’t bore y’all with the issues that job caused with my wife. I will say that it wasn’t for the reasons y’all might be thinking, it was simpler, it was because I was never home to spend time with her, ever, and it had a tremendous impact on our marriage. I will leave it there.

I do miss the people, I do miss bartending, and yes, I even miss being surrounded by hundreds of totally nude woman every day. The scenery was always nice. But, back in the real world is where I belong. Perhaps if I was single it would be different. One never knows. As always, the sisters like to include pictures of themselves at work, and to date the one shown here today has been the only one I have been able to share. I wonder, daily, where my life is going, and with often reminders of the past I see that wherever it is that I am supposed to be going is probably I’m the direction I am already headed. I am happier now that I have been in so many years. That’s what we should be, right, happy in our life? Personally, I think that is the answer.