Once you realize that you can make a thousand dollars in one night, the knowledge dogs you. It slinks through your subconscious, starving, scratching at your door whenever shit gets tough.
Or ambitions run high.
One can, after all, always go back to stripping.
If you’re reading this, chances are, you’re in debt. What if I told you that, by working one or two nights a week at a job that’s “beneath you,” you could make $500 – $1000 a night? You could easily pay off $20 – $30k of your debt this year, or save for a down payment and finally buy a house. Would you “flip burgers,” would you mop floors, clean rooms, mow lawns, if it paid you a grand a night? Would you perform a job that’s “beneath you” for that kind of life-changing cash?
I’ve written in the past about the ethical conundrum of the feminist stripper. It’s something I’ve considered deeply and conflictedly, and it’s a whole ‘nother convo that I won’t incite here. Suffice to say, I’m of two minds about the ethics, but personally, I rather enjoyed my old job, as far as jobs go. I love nightlife; I excel at sales; stripping never even came close to ruining my soul. I never cried over it. While the social responsibility is questionable, I can’t afford the luxury of such higher considerations. Soon, our student loan payments will double. What will we do then?
Yes, there is a skill set to stripping. No, not anyone can do it. Few become true masters, true hustlers. Success demands miles of critical thinking, audience awareness, and convincing performance. For inspiration, I listened to Jay-Z on my ride to work. I am a Leo with a performer’s heart and infinite vanity. Stripping, for me, has always proven a great temp job.
That knowledge dogs me: I can change your life, it says. Now’s the time, the last time ever, it says. I can buy your insurance and pay your debt.
Sleeping with the enemy? Or done fighting windmills?