Serving and Stripping: The art and trauma that ties them together

I was on my hands and knees. Business as usual was happening around me. I could feel the eyes staring at me, waiting for a result. In that same breath, glass pressed into my knee from a previous breakage, who even knows when it happened or how long the glass was there. At this point, I would’ve rather been in the strip club on my hands and knees in a “uniform” that I chose, getting money in the blink of an eye than at my server job in a lousy, stuffy button-down putting a piece of plastic called a “wobble wedge” underneath a grimy table. Not to mention, this is for a tip that isn’t guaranteed until after you’ve put on your performance for an hour and half or more. I immediately went to the locker room and cried profusely after this moment. All I did was steady a table, but it was one of the most dehumanizing acts I’ve ever found myself doing; the guests were grateful but somehow this made it worse. Their gratitude didn’t matter because they still asked me to get on my hands and knees to do this for them. In retrospect, I recognize that perspective is powerful and so is one’s execution. There is definitely a way to bypass the humiliation of getting on your hands and knees to fix a table (I just hand them the wobble wedge now), but a lot of service employees like me learn the hard way: trial and error, just like strippers in a club, also like me. It happens more often than not where the restaurant that one works at is poorly managed and doesn’t give employees the appropriate tools to combat any obstacles during service. I have worked at more dysfunctional restaurants than functional ones, and this will continue to be the truth for many others.

The service industry is one of the lasting constructs of severe classism. This will likely never change and it shouldn’t necessarily because we all enjoy the privilege of being served. My only wish is that servers were treated with more respect and consideration. In my time as a server, I’ve found that the hospitality industry is far more degrading than working in the sex entertainment industry. There’s definitely a dichotomy to these industries, but I’ve been able to draw more and more comparisons as my time grows in both. In the words of @thecollectress on Instagram, a self proclaimed hospitality activist, hospitality is something we, collectively, view as low risk for those involved. Sex entertainment (@thecollectress specifically mentions porn) is viewed as high risk, when both are considered high risk amongst the workers, it’s simply that one is viewed as low risk by the guests. Hospitality is viewed as low risk because we consistently participate in it in public spaces whereas many participate in strip clubs/sexual entertainment in private spaces just as often.

In the food service industry, there’s an unspoken song and dance that takes place. In both industries, customers want to feel like the most important person in the world, but in hospitality, there’s often an expectation to do more than what is required of the worker, to go above and beyond. In strip clubs, the expectations can be blurred because entertainment can mean many things to many different people, but ultimately it’s obvious what is offered. Since strippers are considered independent contractors by law, what we offer can be up to our own discretion; there’s power and dignity in that. As a society, we partake in the hospitality industry and as mentioned before, it’s a space that is considered low risk, but this is only true for the guests. Service jobs are high risk because of this particular two hour, unspoken song and dance expected from guests where our tips are never guaranteed versus stripping where if there’s no money presented… there is no service performed.

From the perspective of the IRS, we would notice foundational differences that influence the culture of these industries. Restaurant employees sign W-2s that qualify them as employees, people that have access to benefits, paid vacation, and sick days. Strippers sign 1099s which constitutes them as independent contractors, many of them having to pay what is called a, “house fee” in order to work. This concept is the same as a tattoo artist paying for a chair in a studio or a stylist in a salon. Strippers don’t receive benefits, time off, or sick leave. There are pros and cons to being an independent contractor that employees don’t possess like scheduling flexibility and setting their own rates.

In terms of the risk for service worker’s experience, we are at risk throughout the entire service, and not just by guests but by coworkers too. Upon reflection, the desire to write this was originally brought forth because I noticed that seedy characters are people I’ve encountered in both arenas. I’ve experienced sexual harassment in both the club and restaurants, from both guests and coworkers. Obviously, sexual harassment is sadly a part of the culture in strip clubs, that’s why the ability to establish strong boundaries is something women, in general, should find the courage to do, but especially as a stripper. The same can be said for working as a server for both men and women, yet women are taken advantage of exponentially more. Women’s “inadequacy” is ingrained into our psyche from a young age by the media, our families, our schoolmates. The list can go on and on. It’s essentially a woman’s mission to unlearn all these fallacies as they mature in order to be the best version of themselves. One of the most important starting points for setting a boundary is understanding what’s expected of us, what we’re personally willing to do, and what choice serves our self-esteem in a positive way. The concept of boundaries isn’t something that’s initially considered in the service industry. It’s a concept that one stumbles upon when they feel they’re being pushed to their limit. That’s how I learned to hand them the wobble wedge rather than doing it myself; that action is something I discovered is not within my personal boundaries. I strongly urge people to get used to saying, “I’m not comfortable with doing that.” I dare anyone to challenge that statement. As I was learning to cope with being a part of the service industry, screaming in the walk-in refrigerator was common. I’ve done it many times, and I know my coworkers have too. Now, it doesn’t sit right with me to allow these people to get the best of me. I’m not going to fret over behavior that I can’t control.

I work in a membership only clubhouse, so it attracts types that are there for clout, to boost their ego, flex for their friends, and take advantage of their position in life. Recently, I had an interaction during service where I was doing what servers call their “check out.” It’s a financial report that’s printed for the server to turn into management at the end of the shift. I was working a late night shift and around midnight I was standing next to the bathroom for guests which was a single unisex bathroom. An absurd line formed. I’m mentally checked out at this point. I’m of no help if I’m not actively serving anyone. Feel how you want about that, but that’s my truth. You may not like to hear it as someone who takes part as a guest, but it’s the reality for many servers. Out of nowhere, a young woman comes up to me. You know the type: young, hot, and privileged. She complains, “There’s a guy in the bathroom and he’s been in there forever and he’s not coming out.” You may read this statement and believe she was concerned for his safety, but I can tell you her tone was one of impatience. I stared directly into her eyes, not saying a word. This is my go-to when I don’t want to deal with someone (I advise this to others since psychologically the brain perceives four seconds of silence as rejection.) A second later after her complaint, I kid you not, the door opens, and it’s suddenly her turn to use the restroom. Later, I reflected and was able to articulate to myself how she made me feel. She expected me to bear the emotional labor of a confrontation that she ultimately could’ve started herself. She wanted me to solve her problems for her. This is what many guests expect of the staff. They want us to solve personal problems that are completely unrelated to the experience at hand. And she wanted me to do it for free!

The strip club has its moments of degradation, as any job does, but something it’s taught me is that everything in American culture has a price. I remember selling a private room and I was so impressed by the cocktail waitress that was pushing champagne bottles on my client. A classic procedure in strip clubs: some dude pays over a grand for a room with a woman, and the cocktail waitress has to convince them to spend hundreds of dollars more on a bottle. This particular waitress was pushy, but in a charming, quick-witted way. My client asked how he could spend thousands on a room and a bottle wasn’t included. She said, “This is America, honey, nothing is free.” We both laughed, especially me. It was a lesson for me. Her execution was a lesson, her commentary was a lesson, and her candor was one too. There are minimal rules in a strip club and they vary club to club, region to region. It’s like the wild wild west in a way, anything goes, which is a difference compared to restaurants. In strip club culture, I thrive with setting my own rules and that’s why I find the service industry to be more degrading because the standard is already set and the workers have to adhere to it in the confines of a building they’re not able to leave whenever they want which is the complete opposite of being a stripper in a club.

There’s typically a standard to service in restaurants across the board. Steps of service, specials, upselling, etc. Boring stuff. Etiquette amongst strippers is truly the only standard we encounter. Good etiquette, which is keeping a 1:1 customer/stripper ratio, not touching money you damn well know isn’t yours, tipping those who help you with your sales, etc. Once again, boring stuff. At the end of the day, I’ve realized the obvious to those in the thick of their industries. These jobs are basic sales jobs. Greet, pitch, sell, upsell if you’re smart, and close the sale. These services both follow this trajectory, and yes, stripping is a sales job.

My ultimate inclination for talking about these topics is to legitimize the traumatic experiences of service workers and to legitimize the work of sex workers, because what we do is work. The trauma that both sex and service workers experience is both constant and real. I do appreciate the people I’ve met in the service industry, some of them have become my dearest friends. I’ve found some of the most interesting creatives in these spaces, as well as the most insidious abusers. At the strip club, I appreciate the deeper tenacity, freedom, and courage that sex work has afforded me. It truly is a job where we set the tone and standard of our worth, we work to give memorable experiences, we experience some of the worst characters in society at the same time, and handle them with resilience. Despite the topic of degradation, I’m proud to say that I come from both industries because they’ve made me stronger as a person with a more clarified worldview that not everyone will get a chance to attain. One thing the 2020 pandemic taught us as a society is that we rely on service workers. Restaurants were among the first establishments to open after grocery stores. Food is undoubtedly a necessity, so it seems the privilege of being served is too. Sexual entertainment is one of the oldest trades in the world and not many take this into consideration nor respect the trade itself; both serving and stripping is an art form. Could you do either and refrain from emotional turmoil?