The Boss Life of a Stripper

The Boss Life of a Stripper

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I wanted to choke her. I was .2 seconds away from telling her to shut the fuck up, stop being such a picky stripper brat, and eat the damn food. Did she really have to go to the extent of sending her dinner back to the kitchen for modifications – not once, but twice?

The new chef is about to aggressively saw my head off with a steak knife and here you are worried about a little egg in your vegan salad. But after getting screamed at about not punching in “detail-focused” orders, I inhaled some patience, and thought to myself: “Ok, rabbit food eater, I get it. OF COURSE you are a picky eater. Your job is to be hot naked. You’ve gotta be mentally clear in order to converse intellectually with your high class business men clientele. You feeling strong, sexy, and confident on the pole bleeds into the people watching and gives them that much better of an experience. Your job depends on you and what you’re twerking with. There is no option – you have to be good.”

Think about it. In order to move up in a company, impress bosses, get the most out of your bonus, you, too, have a certain skill set to master, right? If you don’t, you probably don’t really care about your job. If you do, I’m sure your paycheck and corporate status reflect that. Whether it be the ability to knock out 200 cold calls in a few hours or spending your nights reading and studying “How to beat the competition” – we’re all driving towards a specific goal: to profit us and our companies. And while you’re reading “How to Perform like a CEO”, my fellow co-workers are writing the damn thing.

Forget about the diet alone for the dancers, Dominique* gave me a laundry list of “boutique gyms” that she frequents in Manhattan. She also does yoga 4x a week to stay mentally sane. Lena* eats straight-up vegan and doesn’t drink anything but filtered water. Sage* drinks, but only red wine, and only on the weekends – it protects against heart disease which runs in the family, she says. These girls eat like Giselle, work on building solid relationships and expanding their network, get their asses in Equinox, and come into work early. (to brush up on dance moves, of course).

Instead of sending out emails, they’re sending out personal texts and calling their clients. Instead of getting prescribed Adderall to focus, they’re in the gym taking boxing classes. Instead of playing it “safe”, they are taking calculated risks. And if there’s one thing I’ve realized bartending in this gentlemen’s club: Do not underestimate the power of a stripper.

How many stories have you heard from one of your bro friends that goes a little something like this: “Oh my God, this stripper took all my money last night, I swear bro. I was robbed, she was a straight up thief.” Yes, I’m actually 100% positive she put a gun to your head and said “Give it up bitch or get out”. Just like she did with the other 11,431 guys before you. And she never got fired or even charged with assault and battery. Interesting, right? How does that even happen? It doesn’t. Because it doesn’t happen like that.

Just admit it that you can’t control yourself (or your finances) around boss ladies. It’s all good, bro. It happens. They are THAT good. In the same way that you’d be equally as good in your job if you put 100% of your focus into it. In the exact way that you were “robbed” at a club, a company you made a deal with is looking back at the transaction they made, while the CFO is shaking his head while saying, “What were we thinking when we signed this contract?”

The “average” brain thinks that these girls are working here because they are idiots who can’t do anything else with their lives. The “average” brain has a lot to learn.

I can tell you that I know for a fact amongst the girls we’ve got a published author, several law school students, and a few who own their own businesses and do this for fun. If dancing was the only thing they did – when they are making their money and investing into the same 401K account you have, what does it matter? Likely the only differences will be that they may end up retired a little sooner and will probably have a little more money than the average person.

So no, the stripper formula doesn’t consist of cocaine, tequila with a side of backroom handy’s as most would suspect. These girls are bosses. It takes the strongest, baddest bitches to do what they do. And who can compete with that? The only thing stronger than a boss man is a boss lady.

Hence, the boobie trap.
* Names have been changed.

 

BOOBIE TRAP: The Boss Life of a Stripper
By Chantal Cyr

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