I thought that I looked mature and I thought I would fit in fine among the adult atmosphere, plus the leather jacket gave me strange boost of confidence. I couldn't look anymore like I kid as I did at that moment, to top it off I had a buttoned up collar shirt with the neck very loosely unbuttoned going for that straight out douchebag look.
I had my valid license and most importantly I had my leather jacket, skinny jeans and old pair of vans. I had about two hundred bucks on top of twenty in singles which I so meticulously aligned in "tip" portion of my wallet. The same situation happened with my first run in with sex, but that will be another story. Needless to say I wanted a real strip club experience. I'm not going to count that as my first strip club experience as there was really nothing to experience I came in sat down for few minutes and the money I made that night I saved for a new set of strings rather than tipping the girls (which I didn't know you were required to do if you sat at the pool). This however wasn't a good experience, as I learned that forty bucks doesn't go a long way in a strip club. Yes I've been inside many times, even before I turned eighteen and once I decided to stick around after I made my drop.
Run being a sequence of deliveries that the driver makes and in which order.
Sometimes the girls or the manager himself order from my restaurant and because they are located across the street from us, it makes for an easy "run". The strange part is that I've been in a strip club before. I had the thought for a while, but this was the night to make my long-time dream realized. The stories that I got from that job are going to last me for a lifetime, but that's for another day. Great gig like I said, and with a few fine tunings I had it under my belt. Looking back now, making minimum wage didn't seem so bad when I was working in my step-fathers office, but this was just amazing compared to sitting in an office nine to five making telemarketing calls trying to sell junk to people.Įighteen bucks an hour, my own schedule, driving around blasting Metallica wile all I had to do was delivery food to anyone crazy enough to want a pizza at two in the morning. This gig has fallen out of nowhere, and I picked it up, although with some difficulty, fairly quickly and the money started pouring. The only other factor was money, but that hasn't been a problem since I got a job as a delivery boy for a decent size restaurant. The appeal has certainly gone down due to "the almighty" internet being available, providing porn by the barrelful, and the "No touch" policy that I so heard about. I'm sure I'm not the only kid.excuse me, young adult, that wanted to go to a strip club. It's even harder to imagine that as of four days ago I was allowed to buy cigarettes and lotto, not to mention going to the place that had me tantalized for years.
It's strange to remember that two months ago I had to plead with my parents for some spare cash for food and other junk. The night was almost over and my shift was coming to a close. How did I ever convince myself to come here? Why did I come here, this is not a place for me!
Feedback (of any kind) is greatly appreciated. Basically, this is the story an eighteen-year-old me would tell people, with some elements being true and some being fully exaggerated. This has been made purely for satire purpose and syntax, tone, and storytelling elements are used the way they are for that exact purpose. This story is told from a perspective of a young guy who recently turned eighteen.