Without getting on a high horse, we would again like to repeat:
StripAndGrowRich.com does NOT encourage or support underage Strippers. This is a job for mature ladies who can handle the emotions that will undoubtedly arise on the floor.

How in the world does this happen? This makes a good case for clubs to do a better job verifying dancers’ credentials. There are major dollars and legal issues at stake here.

Club owners and managers: Trust but VERIFY. There’s something in the food that makes 14 year-olds LOOK mature, but they just have the body, not the mind.

This is just another one of the reasons it’s time for clubs to start training the entertainers. We also teach health code information as well as legal issues.

If you’re a club owner or manager, be watching www.stripandgrowrich.com for the next couple of weeks for more valuable information we can help you teach your staff.

If you’re a dancer or a patron…what do you think about this situation that happened in Detroit?? (and Dallas a few months ago, apparently)

Comments below appreciated!!

One peculiar thing about Dallas is the fingerprinting requirement.  I briefly mentioned it last September when I worked a short trip there before the Exotic Dancer MBA event.  Like many cities, Dallas  requires entertainers to be fingerprinted and have a background check.  However, unlike other cities… the process is not completed by state authorities but rather by a private agency.

There are pros and cons to this.  Since it is not performed by a government agency, the entertainers’ identity is preserved somewhat.  It is not a business license, just a means of age verification that is disclosed solely between the agency and the club.  This creates one of the cons though:  the background check for one club doesn’t count for another club.  Each time an entertainer switches clubs, she has to pay ANOTHER $50 for the background check if she is in-state (plus $50 for an out-of-state check if she aren’t a Texas resident.)

You would think that would cut down on club-hopping, but it didn’t seem to.  I visited several clubs in Dallas and saw familiar faces from the shifts I worked at The Spearmint Rhino and The Lodge.

My good friend Panda made a stop into the strip club with a few of his associates.  Panda is great fun!   So I rounded up a few of my Dancer Wealth students from the club, and we headed to the VIP room.  Panda is the prototype of a BLUE.  He just wants everyone to have as much fun as he is having, no limits, just put it on the Amex Black Card. Panda is not only the dancer’s dream client, but every club needs a Panda to be their regular client.

We had a lot of laughs trying to explain to my students where the nickname came from. This particular evening however, Panda had been drinking since the business lunch and was in rare form.  He stood up and started singing the Sexual Harassment Panda song from South Park.  If you aren’t familiar with this character, take 2 1/2 minutes for a quick laugh.

After two bottles of Dom, we were all singing the Sexual Harassment Panda song, discussing appropriate and inappropriate venue’s for bearing one’s breasts, swing dancing in the aisle, and creating a mini mosh-pit of six.

At the end of the night, Panda says, “You did it to me AGAIN!”

“What’s that?” I asked with a sly smile.  I knew what was coming…..

“We had so much fun hanging out, dancing around, being stooopid….” he joked with me, “That you forgot to dance for me AGAIN!  I’ll bet by now your average lapdance rate is about a 2 grand.”

“Lets see,” I said  putting my arm on his shoulder, “I danced for you twice when I met you in January.  Twice when we hung out in May…so there is four dances….not quite 2k but definitely four figures.”

Thus, there is still a market for the courtesan/geisha experience.

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Saturday evening was a rockin’ night at Babe’s Cabaret in Scottsdale.  Despite the 115 degree daytime heat, the desert dwellers and a random assortment of crazy out of town golfers trying to get a good rate filled the club by midnight.

Saturday night, as I have mentioned previously is usually couples night.  This particular evening it was CRAZY Couples night!  First was the table of four desperate housewives.  They were the typical not-been-to-many-stripclubs in their life but by-golly-I’m-gonna-break-loose types!  Although a bit demure at first, after a few drinks they were tipping the girls, and having fun.  Then they started getting a little bit gropier as they tipped…even though they were told they still had to follow the club rules just like the guys.  Then, they started taking their own tops off.  That didn’t last very long….

Then there was a couple by the stage.  They tipped well everytime I went onstage.  They were in their mid-late twenties, good looking, and great fun.  The female was pretty, and dressed like a stripper with a very low cut drape-style halter top and micro-minishorts.  When I asked her where she danced, she looked at me in shock and said “Oh…I could NEVER do this! I work at the mall!”

Ironically though, on my next stage rotation, she took her fake breasts out of the drape-style haltertop, squeezed them together, and placed the dollar tip for me between them.

If you follow me on Twitter…I’m sure you know where this is heading.

At the end of the night, for security purposes we have to wait until the parking lot is clear before we can be escorted to our cars.  First we watch on the security cameras, and when it looks clear, the bouncer will open the door and scan the lot for anything that is out of the camera range.

“Are you F-ing kidding me!” he says pushing the door open.

The girl by the stage who “could never be a stripper!” is bent over the hood of her boyfriends car in the middle of the parking lot.  She’s still wearing the drapey halter top, but her shorts are nowhere to be found.  His pants are down around his ankles as he humps away.

Don’t EVER hold up a club full of strippers who are ready to go home.

“Put your pants on!” “Get a room!” and other obscenities were exchanged.

So why is it that some girls pride themselves by saying, “I could never be a stripper” but then elicit behavior  that would get us fired?

Ah yes…the limited buyer…such an elusive bird…

The limited buyer comes in many different physical shapes, sizes, and colors.  The one consistent factor is his 2-3 dance per girl limit.  Sometimes he is easy to spot.  He is a regular strip club patron and has honed his craft, and more often than not he has more experience in the sales game than most of the fresh faced 20 year olds who approach him with “wanna dance?”  He brags about how his last girlfriend was a dancer, so that we consider him to be “one of us” not an outsider.  Truth of the matter is that anyone who has dated a dancer understands the business, and tends to not be a target client. Other times the limited buyer is a bit more elusive and will attempt to manipulate you to spend much of your time trying to close a VIP sale by dangling false signals.

Last Friday night as I was walking past a table at Delilah’s, I noticed a handsome, late twentish guy eyeball me up and down.  We made eye contact, and I walked over and introduced myself.  Biff had just gotten there, sat down, and took the first sip of his beer.  Biff couldn’t see it, but seated behind him was a bachelor party waving me over.  So I told him to get comfortable and I would be back.

About an hour and a half later, I was in the middle of  my 4 song rotation on the runway stage when Biff got out of his chair and walked over to the stage to tip me a few dollars.  This is just yet another sign that he is interested in buying dances.  Not to mention that 90 minutes had passed and he should be ready by now.  When my stage set ended, Biff’s buddy Buff flagged me over and said, “I was told to hold onto you before you disappeared again.”

So I chatted with Buff for half a song.  By this time, Delilah’s was PACKED!  There were bachelor parties everywhere, and many of them were buying bottles for the skyboxes just so they had a table and a place to sit.  In other words, the demand for dancers was greater than the supply of dancers.  The Limited Buyer doesn’t thrive in this environment.  Many of his strategies are just completely useless because there are better prospects in the room.

Biff returned and I hopped onto his lap, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” he said.  He and Buff were visting from Florida on business.

“Just put it on the Black Card and go to VIP for the rest of the night.” Buff said punching Biff on the arm.  That was my first false signal that tipped me that Biff was a limited buyer of the most annoying variety.  The second false signal was when he immediately launched into a story about the last time they were at a strip club in Florida, they ran up a huge tab on the Black Card at Mons Venus..blah blah blah…  True VIPs don’t brag about how much money they spend at strip clubs, or talk about their Black Cards.  I redirected the conversation back to lapdances and set up for my close.   “Gosh, if you’ve really been waiting for me all this time, you’re ready to go now, aren’t you?” (I knew what was coming next.)

“Oh, you have to sell me better than that.” Biff said “Are you any good?”

“Well, I’m soooo good that I’ve been too busy to come back.   Not to mention that you’ve been here for almost 2 hours you have seen the rest of the rotation and you want me,” I said with a smile and a wink.

“I’m in sales, honey, you have to convince me that you’re the best.”

As if on cue, the floorman walked over and tapped me on the shoulder, “Avalon I have a table in the skybox requesting you.”  I couldn’t have planned that any better!

“Well Biff: supply and demand.  I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” I stood up and was escorted to the skybox while Biff’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

I saw him later in the regular lapdance room.  He bought one dance, then left.  A few minutes later I was on song 4 or 5 and he came back in with a different girl…and bought one dance from the next girl.

Persuasive Communication Tip: use Targeted Statements to call limited buyers to action!

Anytime I goof up this blog (learning wordpress has a learning curve..there are so many more options than just type and publish) I will post on http://blog.myspace.com/azavalon

The StripandGrowRich.com/blog is down.

I can say that it is my fault.

I was in the process of installing MySpaceID. It is a tool that will allow you to leave comments on the SGR blog using your myspace screen name and avatar. Doug…you will like that since it’s a b-tch to have to enter in your info, email addy, etc each time. I like that we will once again have avatars in the blog comments, and you don’t have to create a new one.

However, I made the mistake of installing it on the WordPress blog platform, before I created the application in myspace…so when it went to look for the corresponding app in myspace (and didn’t find it) it shut the whole WordPress Blog down…and locked me out of the control panel! ARG!!!!! Anyone familiar with how to log into a self hosted wordpress.org blog when you get an error message?

In the Stripper World, I love Delilah’s Den. I noticed the bartender looking at me when I was onstage and immediately recognized her. Later, I said, “Did you happen to bartend at Philly Rock Bar and Grill about 14 years ago in the summers of 95 and 96?” She smiled and said, “I knew you looked familiar!” Small World.

Monday Night was dead. Really dead. Delilahs is a sit-at-the-bar kind of place. By that I mean the patrons sit at the bar before they sit at a table, which is odd to me because I’m used to the philosophy that the guys sitting at the bar don’t want dances or to be bothered. I figured out that wasn’t the case at this club real quick. So I met Hawaii Dan. I named him that because he was wearing a bright Hawaiian Shirt. He was a bar regular, but after chatting for a while I pegged him as a Limited Buyer who liked to test out all the “new” girls.

Limited Buyers like Hawaii Dan like the “new girls” because they are usually impressionable. During our conversation at the bar he boasted how everyone at the club knew him, he’d been coming there for 15 years, and the rules didn’t apply to him.
He was also a self proclaimed pig. He called himself that. I knew it was going to be a battle of the wills if I sold him a dance, and contemplated moving on…but there was no one to move on to….and then he said, “You’re a talker, I lilke that…. give me a lapdance.”

About 15 seconds into the dance he said, “Bend over and spread your ass cheeks.”

I spun around in disbelief, “Now now, I control everything in here….and you just have to take what I’m going to give you…”

“Heh…I knew you were going to be a feisty one. IIm usually the director of my lapdances. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

I kept giving him my airdance and responded, “No, I’m not offended. And I script, choreograph, produce, direct, and star in my own lapdances.”

“Yes you are offended. Any woman should be.” he said

“Actually, in order to be offended I have to care what your opinion is.” I said, “And quite frankly in 10 years of dancing I’ve never had anyone ask me to bend over and spread my ass cheeks.” I said in a lighthearted tone.

I really wasn’t offended…because I didn’t give a crap about Hawaii Dan’s opinions…and I wasn’t going to let him tell me how to do a job that I have done successfully for 9 1/2 years.

We spent the rest of the 3 1/2 minutes with me giving him an airdance that he didn’t want and him grabbing my arms trying to pull me closer. Luckily, I work out and he doesn’t, so I was much stronger. So I just planted my one foot on the floor and used the leverage of my flexed hamstrings and quads to stay upright in a side-kickbox stance and placed my knee squarely in the middle of his chest.

The song ended (thank god) Hawaii Dan pulled out his wallet and handed me two Jacksons. “You’re feisty and strong willed.” he said “sorry if I offended you.”

“No offense taken, what you’re looking for and what I offer are two separate things. I’ll be sure to send the impressionable newbies to you so you can manipulate them into thinking they have to give you a good dance because you’re a regular.” I said with a wink

“Really?” he said in shock.

“No.” I said with a smile. “Actually I train them how to deal with picky customers like you gracefully and still get paid.”

Babes Cabaret loves Bridget the Midget

Bridget the Midget featured at Babe’s Cabaret on Tuesday and Wednesday night this week. She was AWESOME! In the past, I’ve worked with features that ranged from mildly standoff-ish to downright prima-donna. I don’t remember her name, but recall one feature entertainer at HustlerSF demanding that she have her own dressing room. So they actually closed one of the two Champagne Rooms in order to accommodate her!

I don’t understand the midget fetish.  It’s different than just “I like Asians” or “I prefer tall blondes with big boobs.”  Regardless, it attracted a different…more distinctly hip-hop crowd to the normal middle aged golfer crowd that tends to frequent Babe’s Cabaret in Scottsdale, Arizona.

During her Midnight show tonight, I noticed a good looking mid-twentish white guy sitting next to the stage with a confused look on his face.  It was clear that he didn’t know that Bridget was a famous midget porn star….he just saw a 3 foot 9 tatooed redhead bopping around to Gwen Stefani…and than he got caught in a misdirected rain shower.

“Can I fill your empty lap?” I asked him.  He eyeballed me up and down, and looked a little bit relieved.

“Uh…yeah” he said, picking a few of the scattered Washingtons out of his lap.  Note: if you’re gonna make it rain….don’t mess up.  Poor kid walked in the door, sat down, saw a midget onstage, and then got whacked in the head with half a stack of dollar bills.

“Is this club always like this?” he asked incredulously.

“What do you mean?” I asked.  I knew exactly what he was referring to.  Most clubs don’t have a midget on staff.

“Uh…well”  he stammered, “Not to be rude, but do you have a lot of dwarfs here?  I’m from the Midwest and I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

“Well, she’s a midget not a dwarf.”  I clarified.

“Whats the difference?” he asked.

“Believe it or not!  I actually know this!  Midgets are proportionate small people.  My roommate in college was 4 foot 9 and a half, which is half an inch above the legal cut off to be considered a midget.  Dwarves have disproportionately smaller limbs to their torsos.”  I replied

“So…I’ve never been to a strip club and seen a midget dancer before” he repeated.

“And you may not ever again, so you will always remember Babe’s in Scottsdale.” (song ended) “I should probably take my top off now, huh?”

Two Six Footers and Bridget the Midget

A little while Splenetic Wheelchair Guy was sprawled out on the couch and waving me over.  He was wasted.  I smiled, he pulled me down onto his lap.  I started to chat  since it was the middle of the song.  I got as far as: he was from Houston and in town visiting his son.

“So are you going to dance for me?” he grunted.  Some customers don’t want chit chat.  They don’t want to be entertained.  And they don’t want to spend a lot of money in the process.  I knew at that point that Splenetic Wheelchair Guy was not my ideal customer, but I agreed. I remembered my advice from the SuperStripper Safety Videos- Be Prepared

No more than 5 seconds into the song, he reaches up and tries to grab my boobs.  Since I have SuperStripper Eyes in the back of my head, I anticipated that he was going to try that move, and deftly interlaced my fingers with his and guided his hand back to the couch, “Sorry Toto…we’re not in Houston anymore.”

At the end of the first song, I used the Reason Why Hot Button to close  another dance.  Piece of cake.  I can tolerate another 3 minutes, although he started becoming rather splenetic that the contact levels of the $20 Scottsdale airdance were dissimilar to the $20 contact levels he was accustomed to in Houston.

Oh well….when in Rome…

Flashback:The Beginning was originally posted in August 2007

I was asked the other night, “How on earth, did someone like you: a minister’s daughter, straight as an arrow A+ student…end up dancing.”

Well, it certainly wasn’t something that I planned. Nor was it a career highlighted by my high school guidance counselor. Although in my opinion, it should be.

Simple, I wanted to afford to eat.

Not kidding.

It was October 1999. I had just moved 3300 miles across the country to be with Mr Wrong. Six weeks after arriving in the armpit town of San Bernardino, CA I found out just how WRONG Mr Wrong was for me.

My whopping teacher’s salary just barely covered the necessities of rent, car, insurance. Even worse, my district paid me in one lump sum on the 1st of the month. Now what 23 year old actually knows how to budget??

So I began browsing the classifieds for a bartending job. I had worked in bars since I was 18. It had been the only way I knew to circumnavigate the 21 to enter rule. Never made sense to me: 18 to serve alcohol, 21 to drink it? Unfortunately, it’s tough to walk into an established place and tell them that you can only work the good weekend shifts because you have a “real” job.

Then I came across a well written ad: No nudity. Bikini Dancers needed. Spearmint Rhino Upland, CA.

Ok, what’s this about? For anyone not familiar with California liquor licensing, “topless” bars are topless onstage only. The topless zone is 6 feet from the tip rail for the 2nd song only. Most clubs even have this line marked out on the floor to avoid tickets from the contact police. All table dances are done fully clothed in bikinis. Sweet! I can do that! Topless for 3 minutes, the rest of the time fully clothed? I’m in!

So I drove 60 miles to Upland, CA. I figured an hour was a good enough buffer from the elementary school where I taught 5th grade Monday-Friday. I didn’t want to run into any parents or the creepy vice-principal for that matter.

“Hi,” I said to the doorgirl, “I think I’d like to work here. Who do I talk to about auditioning?”

She gave me the once over, turned around to the short redheaded guy behind her. “John, you wanna take this one, she passes.”

I pass? Pass what?

Two seconds later, I was looking down at the short redheaded guy in the foyer of the club. “Hi, I’m John, the general manager, have you ever danced before?”

“Honestly….ummmm….no I haven’t. But I do have a college degree.” I replied.

“Good for you! We need a smart one!” He smiled looking me up and down. I had seen more than one bad porno about the strip club manager “auditioning” new girls in the office and was ready to bolt out the door at the first sign of a scandal. To my relief, John was very professional. It was NOTHING like that.

“Do I need to audition?” I asked. “I brought a bikini, but it’s a regular beach bikini, not a stripper one.” OMG, did I actually say that sentence out loud?

“No, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to audition, I can tell that you’re fit just from your street clothes.” He said, handing me two business cards. “Go three stores down to the bikini shop, this card will get you 20% off your first purchase there. This is my card. Call me if you have any questions. You can start whenever you want.”

Wow…it was that easy?

So I went to the bikini shop and started trying on stripper clothes. The fitting rooms had a black light inside, so we could see just how florescent that neon pink gstring was.

I hate to admit it, but my first stripper costume was HIDEOUS! In the late 90s I was on a yellow kick. I drove a yellow Jeep Wrangler, I had a yellow cellphone, and of course, my yellow Lab. So, of course, I chose a neon yellow string bikini with butterfly appliques on the triangle top and the front of the gstring. For some reason I thought a short sleeve black robe would look good over top.

Wait, it gets worse…Unable to balance on standard issue 6 inch platform stilettos. I decided to instead wear 5 inch clunky chunky glittery black mary jane shoes from Hot Topic. What was I thinking?

My first night. God I was nervous!

Due to lovely SoCal traffic I showed up 30 minutes late. John wasn’t working that night, instead a big black guy named Manny was the manager on duty.

“Um, hi! Remember me from Wednesday?” I said to the door girl. She rolled her eyes, “Manny! New girl!”

“Can’t you see I’m busy ho!” He looks up from the solitaire screen. Then he turns his attention to me. “Girl, go get dressed and meet me here in costume in 10 minutes ok?”

“OK, where is the dressing room?” I asked.

“There ain’t no dressing room in this hole. The baf-room is over there.” He said motioning for me to walk around the corner.

OK. I walk into the bathroom. There were about 8 girls in various stages of undress. Some doing their makeup, others counting their cash. Suitcases and duffle bags were stacked up against the only available wall and under the dual sinks.

I put on my (ugh) neon yellow butterfly bikini, black robe, and hideous black glitter shoes and go out to meet Manny at the office.

“OK, here is your paperwork. Read it. Sign it. What’s your stage name going to be?” he asks.

Stage name. I had fun toying with names all week. Being a stripper is soooo cool, you can totally invent a new personality for yourself, which can be personified through various stage names. Samantha brings to mind a sultry vixen. Barbie, of course a bubbly blonde. Mercedes, a high maintenance bitch.

“Bailey” I decided, after my favorite spirit.

“Taken.”

“Ohhh…ummm…” my mind went blank. I was so set on Bailey that the other names just flew outta my head.

“I think you should be Angel since you’re so innocent.” Manny said. Angel. I like that. And I can tell guys my real name is Angela. They’ll never know!

“Angel it is.”

“All right then. Paperwork is done, you can go work now.” Manny said, turning back to the office.

Ummm, what? Go work. How. What? What do I do? Manny must have sensed my panic. He took one look at ashen face and gave me a pitiful smile. “How about I get one of the girls to show you around? OK?”

“Thank you.” I managed to squeek.

He grabbed the first girl who walked by. ”Mariah, will show you around.” he said.

“Uh, Mariah will show new girl around if Mariah gets a free house fee for doing Manny’s job so Manny can get back to playing solitaire.” the petite hispanic brunette quipped back. She winked at me. Phew, the last thing I want to do is end up on someone shit list my first night.

Manny nodded. Mariah took my hand and walked me into the showroom. She rattled off the dos and don’t of lap dances. She introduced me to Pam the bartender, who became my SoCal hairdresser.

Then she took me to the DJ booth to sign in. DJ Geeno’s eyes lit up. “Fresh meat for ya Geeno.” Mariah joked slipping him a $20. “Geeno counts your dances. On the books, he gets $1 per dance, the house gets $1 per dance, and the unwritten rule is that the manager get 50 cents per dance. But if you take care of him, he takes care of you.”

So I’m really only making $7.50 per lap dance. Plus the house fee, plus the security tip out. And the club runs 2- for-1 and 3-for-1 specials every half hour. Thats a lot of dances. I’m glad my clunky Hot Topic shoes are comfy.

At the end of the shift, I waited in line to pay the house the necessary fees.  “Do I have to do any sidework before I can leave?” I asked Manny.  He looked confused.  I had bartended and cocktail waitressed all through college and was accustomed to 45 minutes worth of sidework after the bar closed.  “Nope.”  He said with a grin.

I had about $120 left over….and I was psyched!  That was easy! I really only worked about 4 hours after getting over my initial jitteryness…and I didn’t have to carry 20 lb trays of sizzling fajitas for an 8 hour shift!

This new part time gig was going to work out just fine!  I can teach Monday-Friday, dance whenever I want…and it’s just until I pay off Visa…..

If you haven’t been checking out the Fun Stuff Page, or following my Facebook or Twitter…you have been missing the proliferation of mainstream newsmedia articles regarding the influx of desperate cash-strapped women to the industry.

As a result, I have gotten a lot of emails from women who want to know, “What is the absolute WORST thing that could happen to me if I decide to become a stripper?”  I usually send them to this blogpost that I wrote way back in the earliest days of my blog, entitled The Weirdest Thing That Ever Happened to Me at a Strip Club.  For all you newcomers, my original blog is located on Myspace. I didn’t transfer the comments when I republished the blog here at StripandGrowRich, but you can search for it using the date in the myspace sidebar if you want to read the comments.

This is the Second Weirdest Thing that Ever Happened to Me at a Strip Club:

It was 2002 and summertime in San Francisco.  I was working at the Hustler Club just off Broadway Avenue.  My partner in crime at the time was a petite dirty blonde (the hair color) stage-named Alicia.  We actually met at a Gold Club audition when I first moved to San Fran.  She got hired, I didn’t (back then you HAD to have fake boobs or be a size 4 to get hired most places)  But, we were both from Philly, exchanged phone numbers, and kept in touch since we had both just moved to the city and neither of us had any friends.  I got hired at Boys Toys, now known as Broadway Showgirls and she worked at The Gold Club for a few months.  When Hustler had it’s Grand Opening in February 2002, we teamed up and made a lot of money together selling champagne rooms.   This was before I took the original DancerWealth course in Las Vegas, and she was a good mentor to me.

Getting back to the story: we sold a half-hour champagne room to two old buddies Ed and Ned.  If you’ve never been to the Hustler Club, the VIP area is adjacent to the bar and enclosed in glass.  It is an open room, with several couches.  The first odd thing was that our two guys sat down on the same couch next to each other, even though the room was empty.  Alicia and I just shrugged and accomodated them…the customer is always right, eh?  Ed and Ned were very well behaved as we double-danced for them.  Again, for newbies: the double dance is when (usually) two girls dance for one guy to fulfill his fantasy of a threesome.  Ironically, due to space constraints and the outnumbering 2 to 1 ratio, double dances usually have less contact.  In this case it was the two of us dancing on the same couch for two guys, and every few songs we would just switch off.

About 3 songs into the half-hour, Alicia and I turned around and realized that Ed and Ned were totally making out with each other!  They blushed when they realized we were staring…the shocked look on our faces must have been a sight to see!

“Oh we grew up here in the 60′s…we are comfortable with our sexuality,” Ned said.

“And so are our wives,” Ed added.

So, after nine and a half years of stripping…those are the two weirdest situations I can recall.  Anyone want to share theirs?

I met the most interesting person at Babes Cabaret the other night.  The party of four white guys in golf shirts were seated at a table next to the main stage table.  When it was my turn for stage rotation, DJ Billy blasted the Van Halen.  Each gentleman at the table tipped me a Washington, the one closest to the stage tucked a Lincoln into the side of my gstring.  As many of you know, I’m not a great stage dancer…but I am pretty good at closing a lapdance sale at the tip rail.

“Gosh, you guys sure are having fun, aren’t you?” I asked with a Sullivan Nod. (Thanks for the proper terminology Violastrings!)  He bobbed his head up and down in agreement.

“And you just got here too!  This is going to be a fun night, huh?” (Sullivan Nod, smile) He agreed again.

“Well, I have to do one more song on that stage, and then I’ll be right over…okay?” (Sullivan nod, smile) Another agreement.

After my song on second stage I went right back to the Lincoln Tipper.  I still hadn’t determined his Color, based on appearances, I would go with Green, so I was prepared for a drawn out negotiation.  We chatted for two songs, using my DancerWealth Basic Lapdance Sales Script, Tie-Downs and more Sullivan Nods.  Towards the end of the second song I test- closed him, “Gosh, you’re ready for me to take my top off now, huh?”

“Yeah, lets go over there,” he said motioning to the couches.  I was really surprised, the Green upsold himself?

Since it was the middle of the song, we chatted a bit more on the couch as I waited for the next song.  He was definitely a Green: engineer, talked about how he reconciled his bank account to the penny, very analytical.  But I also noticed Blue qualities: he kept glancing at the table to make sure his buddies were having a good time, was very warm and friendly, a big hugger.  So I began to use Blue Strategies instead of Green Strategies.  It worked and he totally made my night!

Personality profiling is more of an art than a science.  Most people are not 100% one color, but rather possess a greater percentage of one color than another.  Depending on the situation, a person’s  secondary color may prevail.  In this case: the analytical Green was away from his normal environment, so his secondary Blue qualities surfaced.

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