Here are some things I have learned in the bouncing business.
• I once worked with a bouncer named “Clint.” Clint was more interested in getting laid than he was in making money. I was more interested in making money than I was in getting laid. Clint got laid more than I did, while I would leave the club every night with triple the amount of money he made. Clint is now a successful businessman who has made a lot of money. I am not. I should have tried harder to get laid.
• People often ask me why I haven’t exploited my positions at the front doors of clubs to get laid more often. There is a simple explanation for this. I tend to prefer cute, nerdy, bookish women, as opposed to “smoking pieces of ass.” The former do not frequent clubs, and I don’t come across them very often in my daily life, so I am usually very frustrated.
• Some famous people who are supposed to be very nice are often assholes in real life. Some famous people who are known for being assholes are often very nice in real life and leave huge tips. I can cite numerous examples of both.
• Sometimes when I deal with celebrities, they have fun laughing and talking with their friends and I remember that they were once real people before the certain way that God arranged their features made them “recognizable.” Other times, they stand there with their mouths open and vacant looks on their faces, and I wonder if they know how to feed themselves.
• In 2002, I rode an elevator with Jerry Orbach. In the same elevator was a dog with no snout. When Jerry Orbach and the dog with no snout left the elevator, I pinched myself to see whether I was actually awake. A woman saw me do this and laughed very hard.
• Like a typical white guy, I constantly complain about how “nobody speaks English around here anymore.” I’ve also come to realize that if nightclubs employed white people as dishwashers and barbacks, they’d be out of business within days. Until I was able to reconcile these two sentiments, I pretty much just shut the fuck up about it.
• People under the age of twenty-five have no sense of irony and can’t understand even the simplest instances of communal humor. This used to annoy me. Now it just makes me sad for them.