I don’t always think some of my old jobs were weird… that is until I mention it in conversation with someone and ‘the look’ of WTF is suddenly staring back at me. Not in a judgemental way (because no one needs to surround themselves with toxic people) but more of an unexpected way. So I thought it might be a fun way to start this blog.
Hi, my name is…
Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Leah / Coco / Crystal / Elle…. or whatever name wasn’t already taken at the new club I was trying out. It was always some kind of bizarre pot luck game when I started somewhere new to pick a name. Standing there raring to go, firing potential names at an impatient house mother until … jackpot you find one no-one else has. Starting with the pre-prepared cute and sassy names you picked in the car on your way, and working down to your great great great aunts name because that’s the only female name you know by the end of the ordeal.
Most of the time I was Elle, so that’s who you get now. I’m Elle, and I’ve had many weird jobs it seems. I didn’t think they were particularly weird at the time but hindsight is a wonderful thing. I started podium dancing in my final year of college; it was fun, not weird and paid better than the bar jobs most of my other friends had so at that point I thought I had it made. By the time I was 6 months into my first year at uni I realised I could make decent money right now if I started lap-dancing, instead of waiting for the degree education pay back in years time. I stripped on weekends and studied all week, until I decided that I preferred being naked (read – having money) and became a full time tease.
What Happens on Tour
As I write it down it sounds way easier than it actually was, but that’s a story for another time. Now for the weirdness, in no particular order. Starting with the most recent WTF reaction. Years ago I worked for a UK ‘newspaper’ that is famous for its lack of news. A few friends and I were set up as the UK’s leading mud wrestlers, touring the country with nothing more than a paddling pool and some goo to entertain the masses. Let me tell you if there’s anything that will make you re-evaluate your life choices, it’s standing butt naked (apart from a tiny thong) in a nightclub cellar while a helpful barman hoses you down with freezing cold water to remove whatever gunk you have been rolling in for the last 30 minutes.
We repeated this craziness in a few clubs and the newspaper ran a fake news article about us throwing down the gauntlet for challengers, complete with dodgy car park / paddling pool / gunk picture. I should mention at this point that this was before the days of social media saturation, so let’s say trolls had to make a bit more of an effort. And effort they made. The paper received letters, some sleazy… some weird…. and some aggressively taking us up on our challenge in a way only those with pent up issues can. So the whole thing was stopped for fear someone would turn up to a ‘show’ and cause problems. To be honest I was pretty relieved.
I also worked for a pretty well known TV channel that was famous back in the day for its midnight 10 minutes freeview, around the the time it would bought out by a certain smoking jacket wearing, rabbit fan club. This was another touring job (it seems I couldn’t get enough of the back of a dodgy van in those days), but this time it was for a national Miss Wet Tshirt ‘competition’. Every week we turn up at nightclubs across the land, 4 girls and a couple of guys to set up the shower. The ‘competition’ was open to the public, but as they could never guarantee any entries we made up the numbers. This was then broadcast weekly, I often wonder if anyone realised it was usually the same girls every week just with a different name and fake job title?
I quickly worked out the key to this gig was to go on first and what ever you do don’t win! The water in the shower was recycled from a tank. The later you were in the line up the more girls you were sharing shower water with, and if you won… you had to go in again!! It was a tricky balance of putting on a good show…. but not too good.
The other stuff can probably be filed under weird requests from customers rather than weird jobs. I’m not alone either as many of my stripper pals have tonnes of these too. There was the guy that wanted me to stand in front of him for about 2 hours holding a cigarette, NOT smoking… just holding it and letting the ash fall onto the sticky club floor; the guy who asked me to spit on him; the guy who wanted me to tell him repeatedly he was a piece of shit that didn’t deserve my time; and another guy who kept telling me he was the devil and I had to call him Lucifer (but we all knew he was a bus driver in Leeds because he was spotted by one of the girls).
My final shout out goes to the customer I wish I had; he would come in with his laptop and sweets, take my friend into the VIP area and let her watch movies and eat sweets while he massaged her feet! I tried everything to snare this guy, pedicures galore…. but sadly my feet just weren’t attractive enough. I’m sure over the course of this blog more weirdness will emerge, but for now that sums up my craziest jobs.
If you have enjoyed this post please share and let me know your weirdest jobs in the comments.