When Dick had originally hired me, at the Razzle Dazzle, for my first Go Go dancer job, he had said, that I was 'the greenest thing, he ever saw, but he thought he could make a dancer out of me'! (https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/04/and-so-i-became-dancer-on-broadway-and.html). Now, that I was working for him, once again, at the Backdoor Lounge, I evolved so much as a dancer, and my skills improved so greatly, that I became one of the better dancers in the business, at the time. Dick would have never told me this, himself, because he always had to act so macho, as a part of his persona. But, one night, a customer, sitting with me, told me, during our conversation, that Dick had told him, I was one of the best dancers he had now; and that he thought I was extremely talented! I beamed, at hearing that, considering where I had started out from in that journey. Not to diminish my achievements, in my day, as a dancer, but now, girls can do really amazing moves--- especially, on the poles--- that I never did in my day. I did learn some basic pole work back then but we didn't even have pole dancing, at all, when I first started learning to dance this way, so it was a secondary skill for us, that we learned on our own. There was no one to really teach us, because we were all new to it when the clubs began to add these poles onto their stages. Now women that are not nightclub dancers and are never even planning to be can enroll in classes specifically to learn pole moves; even to an advanced level. Dancers can take those classes now, too, if they like, to improve on their stage skills (and therefore, also their tips), but they can still learn watching one another, on stage, at work, just as we learned, how to do the moves, on stage, in my day. Pole dancing is the skill that is truly at the forefront, of exotic dancing, now, though. (From the internet: "[pole dancing] is about sexual stimulation of men. The whole idea is for men to go into strip clubs and watch women dance and strip around a pole. The pole is a metaphor for the phallus. Essentially, the women are simulating coitus on stage for the largely male audience.") It was in the 80s and 90s that pole dancing became associated with strip clubs. I also related to the pole, in how I interacted with, and caressed it, as it being a phallic symbol.
We, also, had pull up bars, above the stage, and I was much better on those! I could hang up there, even by one arm, for most of a song (which averaged about 3 minutes), using my other arm to stroke my body, as I maneuvered myself, in various ways, while suspended, above the stage and the heads of the customers that sat right by the stage. Sometimes, Mickey, the club owner (of The Twenties, and the Razzle Dazzle), would come into the 'Showgirl' room to see how it was going, with his bar business, when I would be performing, on stage. When he saw me, hanging from the pull up bar, grinning down at him, from over the heads, of several, of his customers, who were staring up at my crotch, he would smile back at me, approvingly, since I was keeping his paying guests happy! I had one move where I would suspend myself with my legs open, 'manspread'* style, and my knees bent, right above a guy's face, and then, I would lower myself, closer and closer toward his face, until I was just a few inches, at the most, from sitting my crotch on his face. I would linger briefly, at that point; then, pull myself back up, and away. That move took confidence. Especially during my period. It was important to stay clean, fresh, and leak free, up on that stage! I admit, that I was making my money as a professional pricktease, now, but after all that men had put me through, in my life, just because they could, and get away with it, it felt good to have the power over them, for a change. One night when I worked at The Twenties a guy standing by the stage grabbed my leg and was trying to pull me down, from the pull-up bar, which would have injured me, from that height, for sure! Pissed, at his taking my safety so lightly in his determination to show what a jerk he was, I took my other leg, and with the very pointy toe of my over-the-knee boot, I kicked him hard right under his rib cage, causing him to immediately release my leg to tend to his own pain. As Stevie, I learned not to put up with idiots, jerks, or assholes; for even a second. I had NO TIME, for these fools!
I acquired not only the sexy moves, but the subtle ones; finding out that, in certain cases, and for specific songs, 'less is more', as far as my movements. The front stage, of the two, at The Backdoor, was so small. There wasn't much room, to do anything, on it. And, it didn't have the advantage of having the large wall mirror to work off of that was at the back of the main stage; behind it. Sometimes, we had both stages, to ourselves, for our dance, when it wasn't packed. But on busy nights they would have us dancing two girls to a song with one on the front stage and one on the back stage, at the same time. When two friends, were up there, like Peaches, and I, who trusted one another not to take a positional advantage, we would switch, back and forth between the two stages, during the song, in order to be accessible to the customers that wanted to tip one of us, in particular, since tables were all around the stage, on three sides, of it. That time up on stage was your chance to make your money from the room rather than just getting tipped by the customer(s) you were sitting with, in between, your dances. It could be a daunting thing to be on the front stage for your entire dance since there wasn't much space to do alot of anything, there, if you were up there with another dancer who was utilizing the back stage and mirror fully in her routine and was getting tips for all the moves she had the room to do, right behind you. Often, the girl, on the front stage, lost out, because she was so confined.
Determined to turn this disadvantage into an advantage, somehow, because it was somewhat discouraging, if not humiliating, to be onstage with another girl who was getting all the tips, for her gymnastic ability, all over the main stage just behind me, while I could barely move at all, I eventually developed this tiny little movement--- almost imperceptible--- of just one of my hips, that was like what I've heard described by men, in country or cowboy shows, who were in awe of it, as a female having 'a hitch in her get along'** (while, normally, an expression of someone having an issue with their gait while walking, when used in this way it was paying tribute to the specific way that a woman walks, which men find extremely alluring***). It was such a minute movement, that it amazed me, what an effect it had, on the men, watching this! I simply stood on the stage, smiled, and spent the entire song, basically, rotating, one hip-hitch, at a time, to the right, increment by increment, for 360 degrees. There was apparently something powerful, about that, visually, to men, because when I was stuck on the front stage, that is all I would do, while the girl on the back stage began to feel insecure, because I got 'beaucoup bucks'**** off that one very small and simple move of my hip and pelvis. There is really no explaining that. It just worked! I turned a limitation around, in my favor, so successfully that other dancers hated to land on the back stage, right behind me, because I was raking in all the money, off that one ultra-feminine little 'twitch'! It's mind-boggling to me, how little it takes, to turn men on sexually.
I made some good money, when I was a dancer, though. The best money I ever made, in my life! It was easy money, too. That money gave me financial freedom, paid the bills, and it was recession proof! I paid all my medical bills, like for doctor check ups and dental visits, in cash, at my appointments. I didn't even need to arrange payments. I was able to live in some luxury apartments and in prestigious locations. I bought lots of sexy clothes that went with my Stevie image, which I had to maintain now. Not just at work, but out and about where club customers also saw me. Especially, in the Old Market. Everyone, comes to the Old Market. It is the main 'Go To' location, in Omaha. Other men, noticed me, too, of course, and would approach me. I would then invite them to come to the club, to see me dance, which intrigued them, about me. My goal was to get them to be new club customers; and tippers! It excited me that my income had increased so much since becoming a dancer compared to what I had made as a Certified Nursing Assistant, or live-in Nanny. I had lived just barely getting by for years. Now, if I liked a pair of pants, or a top, I would buy it--- in every color! If I wanted a pair of shoes, but I couldn't decide if the 8 1/2, or 9, medium was most comfortable, because my feet bore the brunt of my being a dancer, and they tend to shrink, or swell, at times, I bought those shoes in both sizes.
Bob, the handsome, dark-haired, UPS driver on my route, when I lived in my loft apartment in the Old Market, knew my daily schedule very well, because I'd get constant catalog deliveries. He deliberately worked his delivery schedule around my daily routine in order to show up with my deliveries, at my apartment, just when it was time for my bath. Because I had to get ready for work, 6 days a week, but was still trying to fit in an actual personal life into each day, I had to stay on a very strict schedule, to be at work on time. Therefore, I was always undressing at 3 PM, to take a shower, and start getting ready for work, in order to be clean and fresh for up-close encounters, with the club customers. Because of this, Bob made all his deliveries to me then, when he knew I was going to be home for sure after my often being out and about; and while I was wearing nothing--- but a bath towel. He had it timed perfectly, after awhile, and he made it clear, with his big grin at me, that it made his day. I knew that, but it didn't even phase me, by that point. Because of being a dancer, I had become extremely comfortable, and very casual, in my own skin. I was quite used to exposing most of it! Especially, around men, from always having very little on me at work. After all, I made my living in a very scant thong bikini! Being in nothing, but a towel, to take UPS deliveries, at my apartment door, felt no different to me than how I felt on stage; only I was much more covered in the towel, than in the costumes.
I was pampered, at the salon, by my hairdresser--- a young, handsome, man, that eventually asked me out on a date, then ruined our relationship and lost me as a client, when he pitched a fit at the end of the night because I had no intention of sleeping with him. That subconscious assumption, that all dancers are promiscuous or 'hoes' isn't correct. While I did do prostitution, near the end of my dancer career, in ways and for reasons that I will eventually describe, here, in another post about this era of my life, I was completely celibate for 99.99% of the time that I was a dancer, believe it or not, which spanned a couple of decades! I sublimated my sexuality, through my dancing on stage usually six nights a week. That was my relief valve. I have never liked to have sex just for sex sake. Especially because of all my background traumas. But also because in my experience, most men do not have the talent for it, to make it worth my time! In other words, they aren't skilled enough as lovers, to do anything for me, that I can't do, myself, without them; and I am nobody's sexual sacrificial lamb. Club customers often said, whenever they would come on to me there, "I would be the BEST you EVER had!" to which I would reply, "Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn't, but men have said THAT before, to me, and then SUCKED, in bed, so I'm not using my body to prove you right or wrong, about that! Also, some guys THINK they are good in bed when they're NOT. Only a COUPLE of men, in my entire life, have EVER been REALLY GOOD in BED. The others were average to awful! You could ALSO have some STD. You might even have AIDS, and [NOTE: back then, especially before medical advances] could KILL me, with that! NO WAY, are you talking me into having sex, with you! So, drop it. You are talking to the WRONG girl if that is your goal! I am not intrigued; or interested."
I always ate out, during these dancer years, or got it "To Go", and took it home to eat, which is much more expensive, than cooking is; because I had a fast-paced lifestyle, then. My shifts at work were 9 hours long. Sometimes longer depending on where I was dancing. Whether I was purchasing my food, or it was being bought, for me, by the various guys that I went on lunch or dinner dates with, I had no need, to keep any food, at all, in my apartment, for months on end! I, literally, had an empty refrigerator much of the time. I love to shop at arts and crafts festivals, and whenever one was approaching, I would pick up an extra shift or two at work, just to have several hundred dollars more, to spend there, buying unique artwork, jewelry, and home decor items, from there. I blew through hundreds of dollars almost every weekend, on food, fun, and entertainment. My 'weekend' was, usually, just one day off a week, as I was typically on stage, BEING the ENTERTAINMENT, for OTHERS, six nights a week. >sigh!< Sometimes, I felt a bit burned out, by it all, and longed for a 'normal' life; but not often. I was having too much fun! It was party time. I basically got myself whatever I wanted, that money could buy. Because it felt like this party would last forever I made the mistake of not seriously saving much of my money.
I lived to really regret that, later on. I kept spending money, that I should have been saving, for the, inevitable, career transition, into something else (I had NO idea WHAT, though!), when the party was over. I knew that the day had to come at some point. I also knew that nothing else, I could do, was going to pay me this much money! Even so, I continued, to live at the full extent of my dancer income, and I just kept on, spending the money. I didn't smoke, or do drugs, so it was not anything like that I was buying. I shopped alot, though! Mostly for clothing, furnishings, and makeup, to fill the emptiness in my soul. From living such a superficial lifestyle, for so long. For not feeling truly known or deeply loved by any human being on the planet. I avoided facing the reality of what was coming, for as long as I could; and then some. In the end, it was almost like I was just trying to make some kind of dismal deal with the devil and even he wouldn't help me, to stay on the stage. It is a good thing I have remained the same size 6 that I have always been, as an adult, because my closet is still full, of the stacks of jeans, tops, and other clothes, that I bought, back then; which, at least I can still wear, although I have 'aged out' of some of it.
On an emotional level, I refused to accept the reality that all this had to come to an end, by the time I was still on stage in my early forties. Even though I always looked younger than my age, I still looked older than the girls in their early twenties that were just starting in the business. As I'd watched other, older, girls, ahead of me in the business, age out of it, and leave--- MOST of them BEFORE it reached the point of TRUE HUMILIATION, for them--- I told myself then that I needed to do that same thing. To get out, before the clubs closed their doors, in my face, while welcoming the, much younger, faces that would fuel their bar business going forward. It was a conveyor belt, of wanting you up on their stage until your collagen started to collapse. As soon as something sagged, it was all over. We were supposed to be fantasy fodder, for men, of all ages, but we could only be that if WE looked YOUNG. I still cringe when I remember a twenty-something club customer, at Lipstix in Council Bluffs--- the very last club I danced in--- tipping me on stage, and saying, to me, "I give you PROPS, for being up THERE, at YOUR AGE!" It was, and is, a very painful reality for females on this Earth, including in businesses other than dancing. I also experienced ageism in retail sales, near the end of that career, which is what I got into when dancing was over for me. But, that is another chapter, to share in another post.
I had basically bought myself whatever I wanted. I never got love, though; the one thing that I still wanted the most; back then. I had all kinds of male attention and adoration as Stevie, but men didn't want to love me. They wanted to have me! Rather, to have Stevie. That persona, that they saw me as being. So, it just felt empty, getting all that constant focus from them, on me, as it underscored my heartache, hidden beneath the sequins and fringe, on stage, that I wasn't loved. They would give me their money, but not their heart. There came a saturation point from all this lust of theirs that just left me feeling a void inside. I remember many nights that I would come home, from work, and sit and eat my take-out dinner, alone, about 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning by then. After that I would turn my over-the-knee, sexy vixen-style, boots upside down, if I'd worn them to dance in that night, and literally pour all the tips out of them, which I had removed from my bikini bottom and bra top, where guys had folded them in half, lengthwise, and placed them, when I was dancing on stage or sitting with them at their table. Then, I would start by sorting them into their denominations: ones in a stack, fives in a stack, tens in a stack, twenties in a stack, and on a really good night, hundred dollar bills as well. It had been an ego boost--- even a thrill-- as I became a better and better dancer in every way including how I moved on stage, and how I interacted with the guys, especially off stage. My tips increased, as a result of that. But, I couldn't remember, what a sincere hug even felt like. Just an ass grab. One customer I'd never met before even grabbed my crotch, as I'd walked up to his table, and I slapped him. Hard. He actually apologized to me when I came back out from the dressing room, after that, where I had immediately gone, to pound on the wall, with my fists, and scream, out of the rage that I felt, about that. The music was so extremely loud, in these nightclubs, that no one could hear me doing that. I had to do it, to keep myself from crying, as I do when I'm very angry, because I wore alot of makeup to work, and I didn't want to ruin all that, by my crying, just because of some asshole. I had to look good, for the crowd.
That original costume I bought, that Lee had made for me, when I was just starting out, in the business, at the Razzle, cost about $15.00, and was so plain, and unappealing, that it wasn't even worth that! I'd simply had to have something, to wear, on stage, though, so I took what I could get, back then. Lee was new to the business, sewing costumes for the dancers, when I was just becoming a Go Go girl. And, just as I did, she also grew, in her skills, to become an amazing seamstress. She created elegant and expensive dancer outfits that were well worth whatever they cost! Eventually, I was able to buy costumes, from her, that cost up to several hundred dollars, apiece, that had padded push up bras, stitched right into them (I was only a 34B), and intricate beading, sequins, or fringe; and, included the thong bikini, a sexy, ruched, dress cover up, and gloves, that matched. On one phone call with her I ordered costumes in every color, that I did not yet have, because she knew my measurements by heart, by now. I could afford to do that, then. I still have several of those costumes, stored away. I sold some when I got out of the business, but I kept some. Perhaps, as a reality check, since looking at those, touching their fabric, and holding them, assures me that those years weren't a dream, but that I actually did become Stevie, one of the best dancers, in Omaha, at the height of my career, and that I had been part of the live entertainment on the stages in several nightclubs, from the near-dives, to the classiest ones around. Sometimes, it can all just seem to me like more of a fantasy, than a memory. Especially, since I am (mostly!) back to living as Deborah, since then, although, I still let Stevie out, to speak her mind, when I feel fed up with peoples' bull crap. There is both good and bad to being either one. Deborah or Stevie. A blend's best.
I also was getting 'regulars' now, who came in just to see, and sit with, me. There were some colorful characters! I hadn't really had any, at the Razzle Dazzle. I started getting them at the Backdoor, though. One was a short, heavyset, black guy, who wore a fedora and sunglasses (in this near-pitch dark bar!) with gold chains around his neck, and a suit on. He looked for all the world like some stereotypical pimp. He was a perfect gentleman to me; never trying to do more than put his hand on my leg (and I wore pantyhose rolled down at the waist and pinned into my my costume bottoms, so he was really just touching nylon. Not skin). The whole time we sat together, he kept folding one dollar after another, of a stack, he brought in with him, to come see me, and placing them one at a time, inside my costume top and bottom waistband. When there would be no more room for any more and/or I had to get up to do my next dance, I had to pull all those out, and lock them in my locker, in the dressing room; then, he would fill my costume up, again! I don't really know what his deal was. Maybe he just wanted the other guys in there to think that he was some high roller, or big shot. As I've said in a previous post about my dancer days, everyone--- and I mean everyone--- who was in those bars had some angle, they wanted to bring to its best conclusion, if they could. Whatever it was, for them. At The Twenties, one big, protective, giant, of a guy, who went by the name, 'Snake' (hopefully, just a nickname, and not what was on his birth certificate, from his parents!), was my regular, for awhile. He was covered, in tattoos, from head to foot. As much, as I could see, outside of his biker outfit. He was a perfect gentleman toward me, too. I felt safe, with him--- something that did not happen for me, with men, very often!--- and I loved to be able to actually relax, at work, by leaning myself back, against his chest, and just feeling his big, strong, arms, around me, as we watched the show on stage. He never tried to make a grab for me. Not even once.
He brought me a very confusing gift one night, though. Sometimes guys would give me actual presents. One had even brought me a turtleneck sweater from the Victoria's Secret catalog at Christmastime. A practical gift, to be sure, which I actually still have and wear, to this day. But, such an unusual present, to choose for a dancer. From that seller, especially! Perhaps he was just a very practical person and seeing me sitting in the club wearing only a very skimpy thong bikini, when there was snow piling up outside, caused him concern, that I might be cold (LOL). Anyway, 'Snake' brought me a Mickey Mouse watch, one evening! I truly did not know HOW to TAKE that gift! 'Snake' was SO SWEET, AND SO GENTLE, despite EVERYTHING, about his APPEARANCE (and, his NAME), but I just couldn't get past all that, and when I had to tell him that (as gently as I could, to try to let him down easy, rather than lead him on which he did not deserve from me), I never saw him again. Regulars, usually were regulars for a reason--- they REALLY like you and want a RELATIONSHIP with you; of some sort. Whenever the day came that, they felt, they had invested enough, of their time, tips, and tokens, trying, to win you over, they would make it clear to you exactly what their end game was. For me, since I still believed in love, and wanted that for myself, and didn't feel that, toward any of them, this usually was a conversation that led to their letdown, after which, I would never see them in the club again. I was genuinely fond of some of these men I met in the nightclubs, though, and I did miss them, when they were gone. I just couldn't give them something with me, that I didn't feel, with them; and I respected them too much to play games with their head or heart by leading them on with false hope. I tried, to handle their hearts as carefully as I would want someone to handle mine, but it was difficult to do. There were so many men, and so few of us dancers, and the pressure on us could feel overwhelming as we sat with one guy after another that each, and all, wanted to get into our actual private lives, for whatever reason. It was easy, to tell those, that were just really jerks, to "Fuck off!", and be done with them, on the spot; but the nicer guys, that were so deeply appreciated, and cared about, by us dancers, because they treated us well, and did us no wrong, were alot harder to handle, because we had actually become really fond of them on some level. We just did not love them, or want them, or intend to sleep with them. Sometimes, trying to 'let them down easy', was impossible, to do! Hurt was going to happen. To good guys.
Every kind of man that you can imagine came in those clubs. Judges, lawyers, businessmen, cops--- both undercover, and off duty. College students, pimps, drug dealers, gang members, newspaper reporters, TV and radio news anchors, Hollywood movie stars, bankers, dentists, pastors (Yes, ministers!). Shy, and awkward. Outgoing, and rambunctious. Quiet guys, and talkative guys. Handsome men. Homely men. Tall. Short. Older, younger. Single; and married. Civilian. Military. White, Black, Latino, Asian, Indian. Any, and all, males, that you can think of! Some were horny. Some, were lonely. Some were misogynists. Some, thought women were actual goddesses, on Earth. Some were bitter. Some were sad. Some, were grown ups, while others, were extremely immature. Some were stoned. Some were sober. Some smoked and some drank. Some, did both, while others, didn't do either. Some were polite, and some were rude. Some were alot of fun, and some were really boring. Some were so sweet! Some, were game players, liars, or real assholes. Some were sane but some were most definitely not! As dancers, we had to go up to any and every guy, that came in to these clubs, and try to sit and talk with them, to sell drinks for the bar and try to show them a fun evening in the club so they would want to be regular customers. That is why, I have said, after logging so many hours, of conversations, and interactions, with this vast array of men, who covered the entire spectrum of male personality types, and behaviors, that I earned my unofficial PhD in Male Psychology. However, whenever I encountered a guy, that turned out to, truly, not be sane, it really scared me! Some of the men that came into the nightclubs were definitely mentally ill, which could be dangerous. I even ended up marrying one of those! I refer to him as a Son of Satan. There is, still, a great deal more, to tell, here in my blog, about my years, and experiences, as a dancer.
* Manspread - Manspreading definition is the act or practice by a man of sitting with the legs spread wide apart. "What does it mean when a man spreads his legs? Leg spreading, according to human behaviour expert Vanessa Van Edwards: any time a man tries to spread himself out to make room for their genitalia he's giving you the come on. ..."
** Hitch has several meanings. However, in the expression: “hitch in your get-along” Or “hitch in your gitalong” Or “hitch in your giddyup” (note, these mean the same thing.) “hitch” = a problem, an obstacle, an impediment, something that gets in your way. The expression comes from way back in the 1800’s, and was used in Western shows. When used about a woman's walk, however, it can often be a compliment, referring to the specific allure, of the way that a woman moves her body, as opposed to a man.
*** alluring - powerfully and mysteriously attractive or fascinating; seductive.
**** (US, informal) Much, many, a lot of. Example: That costs beaucoup bucks!
Additional Background Information About Becoming/Being An Exotic Dancer In The Nightclubs:
Cristina Villegas: Showing how to audition at a strip club (11:05 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGJNWmsJAWw
A dancer posted an accurate VLOG "A Night With Me At The Strip Club", showing exactly what a dancer's life is like, including going to work, preparing to go on stage in the dressing room, being on stage, how dancers interact with one another, and more. This is the real deal. This is what it is like behind the scenes. (26:04 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MIhwl59OwY
Liv posted a VLOG showing what it's like behind the scenes including footage in the dressing room, a peek at the club DJ, dancer's counting their tips, etc. JUST HOW IT IS. (19:44 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrELrrMGV08
Bella describes what goes on when there's a slow night (= bad-to-no tips), an on-the-job injury, and other things about what life is like for a dancer, behind the scenes, who is really just a regular girl, with a life that is very separate from her job as a dancer in the bars. (9:08 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7emfLb1i-g
This video shows "Freestyle pole/floor work dance at strip club" and is the closest to exactly how the nightclubs looked (lighting, stage, and such) that I worked in as a dancer. It also shows a real interaction between the dancer on stage and a customer tipping her, who eventually slips the (typical, folded in half lengthwise) tip into her costume bottom. IMO she worked WAY too hard for that tip (should've gotten it from him sooner, and moved on for more tips). I HOPE it wasn't a ONE DOLLAR BILL after she put in TOO MUCH EFFORT to GET that tip. Sometimes, though, if it's a really slow night, in the club, this guy MIGHT be the ONLY CUSTOMER THERE. THEN, THIS makes sense, doing your whole dance, for him, because he might tip MORE, and he might ask you to come sit with him, when you come down from the stage, and buy drinks (dancers usually have to sell a nightly quota, of those), and possibly--- hopefully!--- TIP EVEN MORE, sitting with you at the table. Other girls are working, too, so if you can keep him interested in you, his wallet empties into your costume bottom, not into theirs. In some ways, it IS a COMPETITION. You're in there to MAKE YOUR LIVING, make some money, after all. It is what it is. (2:46 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfCWc8bzhGc
Lucia Lazebnaya is doing a pole dance, while wearing a costume very much like one I wore, including the over the knee, spike-heeled, boots (my boots did not have the large platform sole, though, that her boots do, which the vast majority of dancers now consider to be required dancer footwear. I wore basic heels, partly for better balance = for safety reasons. Platform shoes can be much more unsteady, especially when the heel is also very small, tall, and spiked.) She does some (but not all) of the moves that I did on stage, and her size/body shape are very similar to mine, also. This video is a very close approximation, on the whole, to what I looked like, up on stage. (4:05 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT4WEFw72Qc
This 'Pole & Exotic Dance Freestyle' to "Voodoo" by Godsmack shows Heather West doing the exact style of dancing that the girls did in the clubs that I worked in. Of course, there were variations, to this, depending on each girl's personality (some were more shy, more sensuous, more subdued, more of an uninhibited exhibitionist, etc.), and her self-expression, creativity, talent, or skill, and even athletic ability. The costume bottoms, we wore, in the Omaha area nightclubs, were thongs, though, so both of our butt cheeks were completely visible, just not the butt crack itself, in between them. (4:54 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaQ2pL7CyDM&has_verified=1
While I didn't travel the world as a Go Go Dancer, and some of these descriptions aren't exactly what dancing was like, for me, there are enough generalities, to how it was, that I wanted to include this article: "10 Things Go Go Dancers and Performers Want You to Know". From the article: " . . . they do their best to bring a sense of fantasy and awe through visual entertainment. . . . While we may have things that we complain about, at the end of the night we get paid good money to do what we love." (http://thedepartmentofdance.com/2018/02/10-things-gogo-dancers-and-performers-want-you-to-know/)
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
Back To Becoming 'Stevie', My Dancer Self
I had a really great, older, landlady, named Louella Gardner, who had, wisely, suggested that I store my personal belongings and furnishings (at no cost, to me!) in the large storage room of the apartment building that I lived in when I left Omaha to become a nanny in Miami. She told me, before I left, that this new venture might not go as I expected, and that I was always more than welcome to come back there, if it didn't go well. As I returned to Omaha, only 6 weeks or so after I had left for the nanny job in Florida, I was very grateful for her foresight, which came from her many years of life experience, that I did not yet have, in my late twenties. I had been renting a very small, one room, efficiency apartment from her, in the building, which was not a size that was in high demand as a popular place for most people to want to live. (I had initially moved there when I was still a Certified Nursing Assistant working at the hospital a few blocks away, when I had not been making much above minimium wage, in that job, so, this tiny place had fit that budget, then.) My old apartment was still vacant, when I returned, so I moved right back into it, bringing my belongings up from the first floor storage room, and settling back in. I felt very uneasy about how I was going to be able to pay my rent going forward, though, since I'd returned home out of work. I definitely didn't want to cause Mrs. Gardner to feel her faith in me was ungrounded. She believed in me, more than I believed in myself, at this point! I knew that I didn't want to ever give her any reason to regret her absolutely unconditional faith in me.
I had not made very much money in the nanny job, either, so by the time I paid her the rent to move back in, I had almost no money left. I was right back, to that same dilemma, I had been in, when I had let my friend Debbie finally convince me to take a job as a Go Go dancer, prior to my trying the nanny career field. >Sigh!< I didn't feel that I had any, really good, options, at the moment, and I needed some way to survive. To do that, I had to make some money, right away; enough, to be able to pay my bills on time. They would be due again soon. Faster than regular jobs would even pay me once I could find, and get hired for, such a job, after applying and interviewing, which took time that I didn't have for this right now. So that wasn't a solution for me. I couldn't afford the luxury of my pride in this present situation. I had to try to get hired as a dancer, again! I did not see any other way. I had tried, working as a waitress, which pays some immediate income in tips, and sometimes a weekly paycheck, as well, but it just wasn't something that I could do. I had the lower back issue, from my injury due to lifting the patients when I was a Nurse's Aide. While it was not a constant problem, for me, now that I was out of that career field, it did act up when I tried to do heavy lifting such as carrying big trays of food to tables in restaurants. I also wasn't good at keeping up with all of the scattered demands, of waiting tables. Juggling everything, that I had to, often at a hectic pace, such as trying to take an order, while another customer was waiting, impatiently, for their bill, and remembering who needed ketchup, who changed their mind about dessert, and refilling water and tea glasses in a timely manner, confused me, left me feeling very agitated, and lowered my self-esteem, due to my feeling so inept, in that line of work. Needless to say, since I could not seem to keep up, with all the demands on me doing that job, I also didn't make good tips, and the base pay was below the minimum wage. So, I got up my nerve, and went back to the Razzle Dazzle to try to smooth things over with Dick, the manager there, who had fired me just a couple of months or so before. I was surprised when I was told that he no longer worked there, and relieved, when they offered me my job back, as a dancer. Starting right away. A quick hire! With good money!
The other girls, that worked there, were, generally, a great group, and I liked them. They were nice to me, with some of the moodier, more sullen, ones as least acting acceptingly tolerant of me. I watched them, closely, as they did their dances on stage, learning alot from them, about how to move my own body in these sexy, suggestive, ways that brought in the better tips from the club customers. I had alot to learn, about this type of dancing, so I was very grateful to my teachers-in-thong-bikinis. It took me awhile, to become completely comfortable with doing this exhibitionism. Because I am usually quite friendly to people, and even talkative, they naturally assume that I'm a very outgoing person and not shy at all. They may have also believed that I felt comfortable in my own skin (most of which was now showing, due to the skimpy costumes that I had to wear as a dancer) doing this type of thing. However, I am, at my core--- or, in my heart of hearts, as my Catholic friends like to say--- actually a deeply spiritual person, a loner, and even an introvert, as well as being rather shy--- or perhaps just uncomfortable--- around other people. Largely because I grew up in an emotionally non-supportive family which taught me to feel unsafe exposing myself, in any way, to other people, because of the harm that had been inflicted on me, from them, and could be further inflicted, on me, by others, in some way. So, it took me quite a while to really fully, and truly, become 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, and to be competent, comfortable, and confident, being 'her'--- that side of me, that I had to create and cultivate, into a fully functioning persona, for being my, actual, self. It did happen, though!
For me to finally get to that point I had to wrestle with all kinds of stereotypes; some that I had, and some that others had, in order for me to break through the bondage and the barriers, that were holding me back, from that. I had to try to reconcile my deep, Christian, faith, with what I was doing now, to make a living, and make decisions about boundaries I would set, to protect myself from some of the temptations, and pressures on me, that came along with this job. For starters, I chose not to drink alcohol at all, in this job. It was nice to know that I was not forced to do it, since I was working in a bar, after all. The club owners didn't care, if I drank cranberry or some other juice, a soft drink, or even coffee, because the customers were required to buy me costly drinks regardless of what I was having, if they wanted me to be allowed by the club to sit with them. [However, these clubs, in this area of the country, didn't have a cover charge; they only required that the customer order themselves a drink, and buy one for any dancer(s) they asked to join them.] There were disgruntled customers, who came into these clubs more focused on trying to get laid than enjoying the live stage entertainment, who would ask what I was drinking, and then complain when they realized it was nothing that could get me drunk to possibly make me vulnerable, to their sexual advances toward me. Whenever that happened, we parted ways, because I stuck to my guns about that for most (though not all) of my career as a dancer. I had discovered, when I met and fell in love with my second husband, Jim, who patiently and persistently got me past the psychological barrier from my being raped (making him my own personal sex therapist, setting me free sexually for the first time in my life), that I actually have an intense, almost insatiable, sexuality under the right conditions which causes me to, basically, be a nymphomaniac! Because of my having learned this about myself, I was not about to do anything that could encourage that to be unleashed on anything less than my loving someone (as deeply as I had loved Jim) and I had seen that drinking alcohol had been a tremendous trigger for that happening with me, when Jim used it to get me past the trauma.
As I was becoming 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, the problem with (and for) me trying to make this transition, into something, and someone, which was now stereotypically branded as being a 'whore' or a 'hooker' was that, at this point in my life, I still believed, deeply, and desperately, in love; in believing that it simply had to really happen, for me, in my life! I had thought with all of my being that Jim was that person, for me. But he was gone now. Married to someone else. Raising our son--- his, and mine--- with her. Still, I stubbornly clung to my faith that someday, somehow, with someone, I would finally have MY 'Happily Ever After'! I still accepted Disney's lie as the truth. I would soon find out, though (and even so, still have to be taught this again in more hard, and hurtful, ways), that love was not something being sought from me, by the men that I would meet in these nightclubs, or, actually, men that I met anywhere else, either. It was not what they were really after, with me. Although whatever it was, that they were after, varied, depending on the individual man, it was always something other than love for which they tried to get into my life. Or, my body. That fact was, eventually, going to pound itself, so deeply, into my heart, that it would lead to the death of my dream--- to truly love and be loved--- and even, almost, to the death OF ME! But, I get ahead of myself, here; about that. Right now, I was still trusting. I was still naive. I was still a decent human being. Because of all that I, still, believed, that if someone knew me, they would love me. In my character, values, and personality I was, still, much more 'Deborah', than I was 'Stevie', on the spectrum between these two seemingly opposite parts of me. I was such a good person! The trouble was, I needed love, in my life, to anchor me, there, now. I'd been deprived of it for far too long in my life, and I was becoming a badly damaged soul, because of that. I'd tried, as hard as I could, to hang on to my belief that love was real, and that its healing power would find me, touch me, and transform me, through that intimate unity, with some other soul; even though, when I thought I had found it, or, it had found me, it turned out to only be teasing me. It was cruel, that men were willing, to break my heart and shatter my soul into pieces to use me, and use me up, the ways that they had, and would, do. There is a Bob Marley quote which resonates with the deepest pain in me that has been caused by men: The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her. I was already devastated by my son's father, Jim, having done that. The last thing I needed was for that to ever happen to me again; but it would. I blamed myself by then, though, for allowing it, because I had kept my heart open, to love. I learned, not to do that anymore, before it was all said and done, which is what led to my doing prostitution, near the very end of my dancer career. For now, though, I was, still, both a dancer and an innocent.
All the while, I was learning more, about how, to be a dancer, I was also performing, on stage, and vice versa, as I continued becoming 'Stevie', my dancer self. I am a very cerebral person, who typically leads much more with my brain than my body, so this did not come naturally, for me. I was encouraged, by the fact that I saw myself (slowly) improve, including learning more about how to converse with the customers. I had initially been pretty clueless about what they liked to talk about, and to hear, from me, in those verbal exchanges; so, I was mostly missing the mark in conversations with them. These men were mainly strangers to me and I didn't yet know how to jump right into some intimate-sounding conversation, with them, which was well peppered with innuendo, and served up with a sexier, sultry, tone, to my voice. I learned that, though. I still didn't have any 'regulars', yet; customers that came there strictly to see me, like some of the other dancers did. The guys I sat with in the beginning, which were willing to buy me drinks (which most of the Go Go bars in this area required us to sell, each shift, as drinks tallied toward our quota; at the minimum), seemed to me, to be doing it more out of a tolerant politeness than, really, wanting my company, for themselves specifically. My thick eyeglasses and fairly flat chest might have been part of what was off-putting to them back then, but I also kept myself well covered up, wearing a short, and silky, but very baggy, kimono robe over my costume, when I wasn't up on the stage. It took me awhile to shed my layers, both of clothing and self-consciousness. The sheer pantyhose had been legally required under my costumes, when I was first a dancer, in Iowa. I liked, their silky sleekness on my legs, their extra warmth, since I had little clothing on my body, otherwise, and, their protection, from grabby guys, who, especially while tipping me, would, sometimes, try to take that opportunity to try to 'cop a feel'. So, I was the only dancer, I ever saw, in any Go Go bar where pantyhose weren't required, to continue, wearing those, pinned in, underneath my costumes; and I did that my entire career!
As my dancer persona, and stage skills, evolved, my tips improved. I was able to afford to buy more, and nicer, costumes. No more hand-me-downs, from other dancers, 'Plain Jane'-looking ones, or ill-fitting ones that unintentionally revealed parts of my body that they shouldn't be. My body, which was always a slender size 6, began to become toned, more like I had looked after Air Force Basic Training, which was sleeker and sexier. It was simply a byproduct of dancing 6 nights a week being alot of exercise. While I am not well-endowed, in the chest area (but wore padded push-up bras, to compensate for that, some, on stage), I have shapely legs and a nice butt. As my cute, full, rounded, 'bubble butt'* tightened, from the dance moves, it sat up higher, and perkier, and looked luscious enough that men wanted to grab it (only there were bouncers in the bar, preventing that; for the most part). Another benefit I noticed from dancing was that it greatly improved my back, to the point that I had virtually no pain left, from that persistent back injury I had gotten due to doing patient lifting, when I was a Nursing Assistant. That was a nice, and unexpected, bonus, to this new career I was pursuing now. Because my stomach muscles tightened, especially, from doing a move called a 'body roll'**, my back issue greatly improved! Even wearing stiletto heels, to dance in, which are considered notoriously bad, for women with bad backs, was not a problem, because my back felt so much better and stronger, now. Also, I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, in this environment, and like I was fitting in, more, even though, my being starved for love, and wanting to make meaningful connections with the employees, and the customers, in the nightclub, put me at odds, both emotionally, and socially, with the mindset of the people around me. The other dancers were all much more enthusiastic about how good their tips were, for the night, and while they seemed cynical, to me, that way, I seemed foolish, to them, by believing, that there, might, be love, in this world; that was worth it.
Occasionally one of the girls would be asked to go to some guy's home to do a Bachelor Party or to go dance for them there for some other, less specific, reason. Sometimes, judging by the conversations I overheard, it was also going to include something other than just dancing, this girl was willing to do, with this guy, or a group of guys. According to them, it was well worth the risk to their personal safety, because the money was really good. Some, went all alone, but at least one, that I knew, insisted that she bring her own bodyguard with her, or, No Deal. I was a rape survivor, already, so that was not something I could see myself doing. I also have always, at my core, been someone who believes that sexuality is something special, even sacred, and therefore, that mine is ideally to be shared only with someone that I love, that loves me. As we were all in the dressing room, one night, getting ready, to start the show at the club, Tammy, a bold, brash, black, dancer, I worked with there, asked me, as the 'new girl', in a friendly way, if I wanted to go along with her, to learn the ropes, for doing a Bachelor Party, after work. All the other dancers glanced up, at me, from applying their eyeliner, teasing their hair out, or putting on their costumes, to hear my answer, because they were always curious, about 'newbies', to see who they really were, then adjust their own comfort level, with the girl, accordingly. [If you were too tame, in their opinion, they could get a little paranoid, around you, as they started to wonder if you could even be an undercover cop, for example. There was a good deal of drug use, among some--- but not all--- of the dancers, and a few, that were prostitutes, on the side. I didn't smoke, didn't drink (back then), and didn't do drugs; so, not doing sex, for money--- or even sleeping around--- raised suspicion about me from others in the bar, throughout most of my career, causing some of the girls to distrust me, to some extent.] Seeing every girl, in that dressing room, stop, to hear what my response was, to Tammy, about her invitation to me, to join her, at the Bachelor gig, I felt really corny, as I replied, "No thanks. I don't want to do that stuff. I'm waiting for love! I want that guy to know, when he finds me, that, I may be a dancer, but it's only my job; not my lifestyle." Some of the girls looked shocked by that answer, some looked a little wistful, for their own innocence lost, somewhere along the way. Tammy, and at least one other girl, laughed out loud at that, though, as Tammy said, "GIRL! You better learn how to SHAKE THAT 'MONEY MAKER', while YOU STILL HAVE IT, because, that thing ain't always gonna be somethin' men will PAY to SEE, an' there ain't NO SUCH FUCKING THING as 'LOVE'! You betta get REAL, girl!" I didn't believe that; then. Although, sadly, I would, later.
To be sure, every single one of us, having had men that we had loved, in our personal lives, in our past, had lived to seriously regret allowing them in, to our lives, and, our bodies, due to the absolute heartbreak they had caused us, as an unfair exchange, for that risk, we took, on their behalf. Being a caregiver, as a Nurse's Aide, and, a nanny, had emphasized my nurturing side, and had thankfully been well reciprocated by those that I had cared for--- the patients, and the children--- developing real, and caring, bonds, with one another. Even the nursing staff, at the hospital, had enveloped me with their caring and concern, for all involved, which included their nurture and support of me. In a sense, we dancers competed with one another; for tips; for the customers to buy us the club-required-quota, of drinks, each night; and, for status. I was at the very bottom of that ladder to dancer success, in the beginning, of course, but I was on my way. I realized that, while I was learning, from the other dancers, and was grateful, to them, for that, and even became closer, in a sense, to some of the girls I worked with, more than others, that the cohesiveness I had so cherished, with the entire medical staff I had previously been a part of, was just not something that the bar atmosphere was going to foster, for me. It was more of a sense of my belonging to the scene, itself, than with one another, relationally, and was much more superficial in almost every way. For the drinkers, or drug users, in the bar, getting a buzz on together was the closest they came to bonding. They were feeling good together, but really apart. In contrast, the nursing staff at the hospital where I had worked, had been joined closely together, in a noble, common cause. Our hearts had been open and our minds had been clear.
Over time, though, when, and as, love didn't happen, for me, I began to let go of believing in it, little, by little, yet steadily, until I began to drift, farther, and farther, away, from any hope, losing my moral compass, in the process. Studies have been done, documenting the effect of lack of love, even on animals. This deep, unmet, need can cause a failure to thrive, in way(s), among other negative effects caused by the deprivation. There is clearly a reason that God's greatest commandments are to love Him and to love others, which indicate how necessary it is! Yet the world has far too little, of it; and, the consequences, of that, whether in one individual's life, or, in all lives, is incalculable. There is an article on what I'm describing here about myself which I recommend that you read: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tech-support/201711/6-things-daughters-unloving-parents-need-unlearn. It was written by Peg Streep***. These are excerpts from her article: "Many women it seems, hang on to what our culture preaches in the hopes that they catch the brass ring, although research shows that children who grow up with a secure style of attachment-- whose emotional needs were met, in childhood, who felt loved, and supported and grew to have confidence in their thoughts and feelings-- are more likely to dodge the someday - my - prince - will - sweep - me - off - my - feet vision [that] our culture encourages and find a relationship that is both durable and nurturing. . . . Infants . . . deprived of face-to-face interaction and touch fail to thrive and can, in fact, die. That gives you a pretty clear sense of how important . . . love and caring — are to our species. . . . We learn about love by the love we are shown and by love’s absence or presence in our family of origin. . . . the coping mechanisms the unloved daughter develops . . . operate largely unconsciously. That is . . . part of the problem because, unseen, they influence and shape the unloved daughter’s behaviors. . . . The unloved daughter lacks a sense of belonging in her family of origin, and if she doesn’t belong there, where will she ever belong? . . . That daughter has already internalized that love hurts . . . . What we learned about love in childhood can be unlearned . . . . Recognizing that we were starved for affection is an important first step." I agree with my counselors over the years who having heard my life story say that it is amazing that I survived all that I have been through, even as well as I have! I give God all the glory for that, because of His Grace and Mercy, toward me, and His becoming my 'Love Anchor' in life. He had always wanted, to be that to me, and tried, to do that for me, but because we humans are given Free Will, by Him, I had to allow, even invite, Him to, before He could. Although I've survived everything I have gone through, I am also damaged, as a result, of all of it. Scars on my body, my soul, and my spirit, easily identify me, as one, of the walking wounded. As much as I would like for that to not be the case, for me, and I continue working on myself, in various ways, to try to improve on the condition, I am in, it is simply the reality of the consequences of my accumulated life experiences; of the effect of sin in my life. The sins of others and my own.
One night, as I was sitting at a table, in the bar, waiting for my turn to go on stage to dance, a waitress there, at the Razzle Dazzle, told me that there was a brand new Go Go bar opening, over in Omaha, and they needed dancers. The Razzle was directly across the Missouri River from there, in Council Bluffs, Iowa, but since I lived in Omaha what she was saying to me got my interest. I like things in my life to be as simple as possible, as often as possible! Probably because I am so weary, from all the things, and all the times, that have not been that way, for me. I was not sure why she told me that, or what other dancers she may have also told there. Part of me wondered whether it was a nice way to get rid of me, although, I had been rehired on the spot. Mickey owned this bar, though, and I had no doubt, that he well remembered my telling him, not to ever touch me, again, after he had grabbed my butt cheek, when I had first started working there, and I had not known he was my boss when I told him off for doing that. Still, he had never been hostile toward me, even when that happened, and he did not appear to be holding a grudge, against me, for it. I was never sure of the waitress's motive for telling me, but it didn't look like it would be anything I would be able to pursue anyway, after I asked her who was managing this new nightclub, and, she told me that Dick McGinnis was. He had been the manager here at the Razzle Dazzle, who had hired me the first time I worked there. Since Dick had also fired me, from the Razzle, I felt sure that he would have no interest at all in having me working for him again, so I let it go at that, after explaining to the waitress that it was the reason, that I would not be looking into the possibility of my working at this new club.
About a week later, she brought it up to me again, though, saying that she had talked to Dick, about it, and that, he remembered me, and was, offering me the job, if I wanted to work there. When she told me the location of the other Go Go bar in Omaha it was walking distance from where I lived! That was a tremendous selling point for me. I didn't like being on the streets for very long, or very far, after my shifts ended at the Razzle at 2 AM, 6 nights a week, because I was getting off work when all the bars in the area were closing, and that unfortunately meant alot of drunks were driving on those streets at that time. It felt too risky, to me, to be out there among them as I was trying to get home from work. The bars in Omaha, Nebraska closed an hour earlier, too; at 1 AM (when I was a dancer), which meant that I wouldn't have to work as late, and could get home, eat, unwind some, and still get to bed before dawn. Since Dick had apparently already hired me, so, if I wanted the job, it was mine, I went to work for him, at the Backdoor Lounge. It was a fairly small bar, in the back room of the Smoke Pit, a very popular BBQ Restaurant. That was another plus, for me, too! I was always really hungry after burning lots of calories, dancing all night, and the restaurant stayed open later than the bar, giving me time to either eat there, or get Take-Out, before I headed home. Often, club customers would even offer to buy me the meal over in the restaurant, at the end of the night. All in all, it was a much better situation for me. Easy hires. Better money. Music. Dancing. Meals being paid for. I could get used to this! Everything has good and bad, to it, in this world, it seems; but for me, for the first time in a long time, life was starting to feel more sweet, and less bitter. I liked that!
Just as I had done at the Razzle, I also closely watched the other dancers up on stage here at the Backdoor Lounge, as I continued to learn more about how to dance, in this way, in a thong bikini, this up-close to club customers, without being uncomfortably self-conscious while doing so. I was impressed, even amazed, at times, by how sensuously and enticingly some of these girls could move on that stage. I still couldn't make eye contact with these men when I was up there. In fact, although I had gotten my first contact lenses, while I was in Miami, working as a nanny, I preferred, to wear my eyeglasses, and take them off, when I went up to dance. Being quite nearsighted, with astigmatism, my vision was reduced to the point that I could really only see those men sitting at the tables that were right next to the stage. The rest were only a blur! As I slowly but steadily improved in my Go Go dance moves, during my turns up on stage, my tips from the customers began to increase. Sometimes, though, dancing on stage fairly blindly went against me. Other dancers would occasionally tell me that a customer had been holding up folded money, as a tip, for me, of some denomination, but that they had withdrawn it after I appeared to them to be ignoring that, or refusing it, when I had simply not seen them! >sigh!< Even though I, occasionally, lost tip money, this way, I was, still, making the best money that I had ever made, in any job, or career field, in my life. By far! This was the 80s. The music was perfect, for dancing to! Things generally seemed more lighthearted, and fun. It kind of felt like it was a never-ending party, in a way; until, it wasn't, anymore. I MISS that decade in so many ways and for so many reasons. Those had felt like the best years of my life! After barely being able to make ends meet financially for years, before I started dancing, this was alot more fun!
This environment was definitely an escape from reality, for the most part, for everyone, there, in some way or other. If the sexy music or the drinks, or both, didn't carry you somewhere far away, from your everyday existence, in your thoughts and emotions, then the 'Live On Stage' entertainment, surrounded by blinking light bulbs, while, the rest of the room was under cover of darkness, beckoned bar goers, through sheer titillation. The undercurrent of sexual energy and frustration in that room was electric! A thick cloud of cigarette smoke that hung heavily in the air (for many years, in those nightclubs, before the law was finally changed, prohibiting it) caused it to look like some hazy netherworld for lost souls, adding to a sense of unreality that was either delightfully or frightfully drawing us all in, keen to explore ourselves and the others in some way. We, all, craved, being in these bars. Each in our own way; for our own reasons. We were seduced, by something, about it, that drew us, there, and then, held us, in its grasp, long after it began to make us miserable, instead, and we, finally, had to recognize and admit that it was not good for us. I hadn't comprehended any of this, that I'm describing to you now, about it, when I was new to it, though. I only knew that, it compelled me, to be a part of it, and it motivated me, to learn so much, about so many things, that were so foreign, to me, and my life. The nightly circus, that it was, also distracted me--- quite well, actually--- from that, deep, heartache, that had come to continually plague my consciousness, without relief--- except for here. Maybe it is the most blasphemous way, to say this, but, it was a Godsend, for me! I am not sure that I would have survived without it, in my life, to change me, and to strengthen me; teach me 'street smarts', that I came to value so much more than the 'book smarts' that I had before that which had seemed to serve little of any practical purpose as I tried to navigate my way through all that life had dealt me. If I had to choose a song as background music, to also convey the atmosphere and the environment, that I am describing here, as far as what it was like to be in, and a part of, these Go Go bars it would be 'Hotel California'. Here is the link for the Eagles, performing, this, hit song, live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niIX0QcYRzE.
Hotel California
Songwriters: Glenn Lewis Frey / Don Felder / Donald Hugh Henley
So much was an illusion in these dark clubs with the flashing lights and loud, pulsating, music, with dancers wearing thick masks, of makeup, and using, fake, stage names, not only for their own protection, and privacy, but to seem like even more of a fantasy figure, in the minds of the male customers, who had left their real world, everyday lives, behind, and escaped them here, to encounter that. Dancer aliases were very often sexually suggestive. A large-boobed girl that I worked with went by the--- fairly obvious--- dancer name of 'Peaches' after getting the breast implants, to live up to that. Her real name was Peggy; and her real body had been less chesty. [I explained how I came to have my dancer name, of 'Stevie', in a previous post. The short of it was that I took it from the name of a very prominent doctor, that I knew, from the hospital that I had worked in, after he ended our relationship. But, I made it my own! Here, is the link, for that post: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/10/from-my-giving-all-i-had-to-my-showing.html.] Almost every Go Go bar, I ever worked in, seemed to have dancers going by 'Angel' and 'Diamond'. There was also usually a 'Chastity' who was anything but that. Even when I got to know someone in the bar that I worked in, whether it was a co-worker, or a customer, it didn't really seem like it was truly them I was interacting with. It was often more of a superficial posturing, that they put forth, or even just some type of, outrageous, over-the-top attitude, that made them seem much more plastic, than real, to me; and, when that fell shorter still of their apparent aim, to reinvent themselves, even left them looking downright cartoonish! There were times this turned into some hilarious sideshow, and People Watching in there was one of my favorite pastimes, in between, doing my dances, up on stage (though, sometimes, I even caught myself doing that from up there!). From Bachelor Parties, coming in, to bouncers jumping on jerks to kick them out of the bar for getting too far out of line, it was clear that all of the live entertainment, on any given night, in the Go Go bars, was not, just from their dancers!
Virtually everyone, in these places, had an angle; some agenda, they wanted to succeed with to make it "a good night!" Even, at times, regardless of the cost, or consequence, in their lives once this 'party' was over. "LAST CALL, FOR ALCOHOL!" the waitress told the customers, as they tried to make their final tip for the night. At closing time, as the buzzed crowd nursed that last drink, the, harsh, glaring, overhead lights abruptly switch on, making the magic disappear in a split-second 'POOF!', as this very same room, that had felt like such a Fantasy Land, just moments before, suddenly appears dilapidated and dingy. Stale, gray, cigarette smoke hangs in the air, like a haze. Insecurities had battled against ambitions, within each soul, all evening, as people played their head, and heart, games, with one another; hedging their bets, by each showing the other, only, what they wanted them to see, and to think, that they were. Now, this moment of reckoning had arrived for them to, finally, find out which of the two opposing forces had won, based on what the goal was, that one had in mind. Of course, it was sad, to me, but no surprise, that married men, that came in, often, told the dancers that they were single, and even those that actually admitted, they were married (and, some, even happily married; or so they claimed), still, wanted to get the dancer, of their dreams, to have sex with them. Dancers who happened to be confirmed Man-Haters had, acted, available and even interested, during the evening, as long as the money kept coming, to them, out of the guy's wallet, and into their bikini bottom, as tips. But, NOW? . . . they tell this sucker that, stupidly, thought he could play, use, or take advantage of, them--- after they already had that happen, to them, earlier in their lives, by some jerk, that they had actually loved and trusted NOT to do that, to them: "Oh my! The sitter told me, when I called home, just now, that they can't stay longer, tonight, so I have to hurry home." (They have no kids.) After adding, they're 'OH SO SORRY, they can't be with the guy; not TONIGHT, anyway, . . . .' (to try, to keep him on their hook, for future tips, until he finally figures it out) they vanish into the night after giving him their (fake; non-working) phone number, that he asked for. This is what I saw, working at these bars; and, I eventually learned.
To be honest, and transparent, here, I have to admit that I, also, eventually did things like this after a few too many men tried to pull their crap with me. It is one of my, hardest, confessions, to make, in my life! Worse, it was not always done--- by any, of us, doing it--- strictly, tit for tat, only on whom had perpetrated it on us, and may have, therefore, 'deserved' it, being done, to them. At some point, people that hadn't done it, to anyone, and didn't have it coming, to them, had it done, to them, anyway; for whatever reason, or motivation, the perpetrator had, to do it. There is that expression 'Hurt people hurt people'. There are not alot of things I am actually ashamed of, in my life, but my choice, to, disgracefully, hustle, some, undeserving, people, in my dancer career is definitely on the list of things that I would like to think that I would change or undo, if only, I could go back, in time. I once gave a guy, named Robin, that I actually even really liked, a fake phone number--- to the animal spay-neuter clinic (LOL)--- because he had come into this club as an assistant manager and had started to try to sleep with every dancer there, one after another, causing jealousy, arguments, and distrust between the dancers, who thought he was worth it. Hating myself, for still liking him, as a person, despite, something this despicable, to me, I gave him the wrong phone number, to try to make a point about his penis. It all sounds pathetic, I know; but I do think that there's some justice in gamers getting gamed.
In the dressing rooms, at the end of the night, some of the girls, whose feet hurt, or who didn't make enough tips, to be happy, that night, were now being bitchy, as they shed their sexiness and sequins, and put on their snarkiness and sweatpants. Others, too tired, to talk, to anyone, anymore, at all, still showed their own signs, of wear and tear, from the flakes of mascara that had fallen onto their faces, to the teased-out hairdos that had somehow deflated in spite of all the hairspray coating them. I listened to the comments, back and forth, between the girls, as I quickly pulled on my jeans over my costume, to go home; sometimes adding my own, into the mix, but mostly, just trying to get out of there, get something to eat, and put my feet up awhile. The comments between the dancers, often sounded something like this: "Oh! Honey! I LIKED your new costume you wore tonight! That REALLY HID those STRETCHMARKS, across your stomach."; "Oh my God! My FUCKING FEET HURT! . . . Geez; they STINK, too! I'm going to throw these shoes out!"; "Wait! What SIZE, are they!?"; "Babygirl! Trust me! YOU don't WANT these SMELLY OLD SHOES!"; "Ladies, I, had a GOOD night, tonight! I made money, off that one guy, I sat with! I think he's going to be my new 'regular'! He said, he'd be back."; "You can get us CLOSED DOWN, doin' the kind of lap dance that you were giving that guy tonight, and we'll ALL be OUT of MONEY! I saw, what you were rubbin', on him, and the undercover cops, that we get in here, coulda seen that too. You're messing with MY money, if you get us SHUT DOWN!"; "Can you . . . pass me that trashcan? I think, I'm going to throw up."; "You shouldn't be doing those shots. That's some strong shit!"; "Man! She PUKED, in it; and, it STINKS! I'M GONE!"; "I don't know why you have to drink that much. I quit drinking, last year, and I get up, on that stage, stone-sober. Every night! Why don't you quit drinking, so much, like that? It will make you OLD BEFORE YOUR TIME! Do you wanna LOOK OLD? . . . I can smell that vomit in here. Why didn't you go to the restroom, to do that?"; "She's naked. I can't find her clothes! She's SO fucked up!"; "Well, I'm outta here! See you bitches, tomorrow. I'm headed to TACO BELL DRIVE THRU!"; "Did YOU tell that one guy I WAS MARRIED, so he'd sit with YOU and NOT ME? FUCK YOU, Bitch! Don't even lie, about it!" The show we put on every night was--- almost all--- a masquerade . . . both intriguing, and empty, all at the same time; and when the masks came off, after the lights came up, it was really just a group of regular girls, whose feet hurt, and hearts were broken, that were trying, their best--- DAMN IT!--- in spite of everything, crappy, about being a woman in THIS world--- to, just SURVIVE, it; and, keep on, keeping on.
The Eagles are my all-time favorite band and I especially love their expressive, emotive, lyrics.
There is another one, of their songs, that sums up what a night at the Go Go bar was like. The following, is the, audio, link, for them performing this song, 'Heartache Tonight', and, the lyrics:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feduLprAAig
Heartache Tonight
Eagles
Somebody's gonna hurt someone before the night is through.
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
Some people like to stay out late
Some folks can't hold out that long
But nobody wants to go home now; there's too much goin' on
This night is gonna last forever. Last all, last all summer long
Some time before the sun comes up the radio is gonna play that song
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
The moon's shinin' bright, so turn out the light, and we'll get it right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache to night, I know
Somebody's gonna hurt someone (somebody) before the night is through
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do (everybody)
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Let's go.
We can beat around the bushes; we can get down to the bone
We can leave it in the parkin' lot, but either way
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There'll be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
** body roll: (a video, showing this move) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jd1nuA61mc (a GIF, showing this move) https://images.app.goo.gl/cJv5aj8Ri5r5PozPA
(a GIF, of Rihanna body roll) https://images.app.goo.gl/Ms9dU3af9ohhKRaq6
*** Peg Streep is the author of the book Daughter Detox: Recovering from an Unloving Mother and Reclaiming Your Life, and has written or co-authored 12 books. Online: pegstreep.com.
I had not made very much money in the nanny job, either, so by the time I paid her the rent to move back in, I had almost no money left. I was right back, to that same dilemma, I had been in, when I had let my friend Debbie finally convince me to take a job as a Go Go dancer, prior to my trying the nanny career field. >Sigh!< I didn't feel that I had any, really good, options, at the moment, and I needed some way to survive. To do that, I had to make some money, right away; enough, to be able to pay my bills on time. They would be due again soon. Faster than regular jobs would even pay me once I could find, and get hired for, such a job, after applying and interviewing, which took time that I didn't have for this right now. So that wasn't a solution for me. I couldn't afford the luxury of my pride in this present situation. I had to try to get hired as a dancer, again! I did not see any other way. I had tried, working as a waitress, which pays some immediate income in tips, and sometimes a weekly paycheck, as well, but it just wasn't something that I could do. I had the lower back issue, from my injury due to lifting the patients when I was a Nurse's Aide. While it was not a constant problem, for me, now that I was out of that career field, it did act up when I tried to do heavy lifting such as carrying big trays of food to tables in restaurants. I also wasn't good at keeping up with all of the scattered demands, of waiting tables. Juggling everything, that I had to, often at a hectic pace, such as trying to take an order, while another customer was waiting, impatiently, for their bill, and remembering who needed ketchup, who changed their mind about dessert, and refilling water and tea glasses in a timely manner, confused me, left me feeling very agitated, and lowered my self-esteem, due to my feeling so inept, in that line of work. Needless to say, since I could not seem to keep up, with all the demands on me doing that job, I also didn't make good tips, and the base pay was below the minimum wage. So, I got up my nerve, and went back to the Razzle Dazzle to try to smooth things over with Dick, the manager there, who had fired me just a couple of months or so before. I was surprised when I was told that he no longer worked there, and relieved, when they offered me my job back, as a dancer. Starting right away. A quick hire! With good money!
The other girls, that worked there, were, generally, a great group, and I liked them. They were nice to me, with some of the moodier, more sullen, ones as least acting acceptingly tolerant of me. I watched them, closely, as they did their dances on stage, learning alot from them, about how to move my own body in these sexy, suggestive, ways that brought in the better tips from the club customers. I had alot to learn, about this type of dancing, so I was very grateful to my teachers-in-thong-bikinis. It took me awhile, to become completely comfortable with doing this exhibitionism. Because I am usually quite friendly to people, and even talkative, they naturally assume that I'm a very outgoing person and not shy at all. They may have also believed that I felt comfortable in my own skin (most of which was now showing, due to the skimpy costumes that I had to wear as a dancer) doing this type of thing. However, I am, at my core--- or, in my heart of hearts, as my Catholic friends like to say--- actually a deeply spiritual person, a loner, and even an introvert, as well as being rather shy--- or perhaps just uncomfortable--- around other people. Largely because I grew up in an emotionally non-supportive family which taught me to feel unsafe exposing myself, in any way, to other people, because of the harm that had been inflicted on me, from them, and could be further inflicted, on me, by others, in some way. So, it took me quite a while to really fully, and truly, become 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, and to be competent, comfortable, and confident, being 'her'--- that side of me, that I had to create and cultivate, into a fully functioning persona, for being my, actual, self. It did happen, though!
For me to finally get to that point I had to wrestle with all kinds of stereotypes; some that I had, and some that others had, in order for me to break through the bondage and the barriers, that were holding me back, from that. I had to try to reconcile my deep, Christian, faith, with what I was doing now, to make a living, and make decisions about boundaries I would set, to protect myself from some of the temptations, and pressures on me, that came along with this job. For starters, I chose not to drink alcohol at all, in this job. It was nice to know that I was not forced to do it, since I was working in a bar, after all. The club owners didn't care, if I drank cranberry or some other juice, a soft drink, or even coffee, because the customers were required to buy me costly drinks regardless of what I was having, if they wanted me to be allowed by the club to sit with them. [However, these clubs, in this area of the country, didn't have a cover charge; they only required that the customer order themselves a drink, and buy one for any dancer(s) they asked to join them.] There were disgruntled customers, who came into these clubs more focused on trying to get laid than enjoying the live stage entertainment, who would ask what I was drinking, and then complain when they realized it was nothing that could get me drunk to possibly make me vulnerable, to their sexual advances toward me. Whenever that happened, we parted ways, because I stuck to my guns about that for most (though not all) of my career as a dancer. I had discovered, when I met and fell in love with my second husband, Jim, who patiently and persistently got me past the psychological barrier from my being raped (making him my own personal sex therapist, setting me free sexually for the first time in my life), that I actually have an intense, almost insatiable, sexuality under the right conditions which causes me to, basically, be a nymphomaniac! Because of my having learned this about myself, I was not about to do anything that could encourage that to be unleashed on anything less than my loving someone (as deeply as I had loved Jim) and I had seen that drinking alcohol had been a tremendous trigger for that happening with me, when Jim used it to get me past the trauma.
As I was becoming 'Stevie', my dancer alter ego, the problem with (and for) me trying to make this transition, into something, and someone, which was now stereotypically branded as being a 'whore' or a 'hooker' was that, at this point in my life, I still believed, deeply, and desperately, in love; in believing that it simply had to really happen, for me, in my life! I had thought with all of my being that Jim was that person, for me. But he was gone now. Married to someone else. Raising our son--- his, and mine--- with her. Still, I stubbornly clung to my faith that someday, somehow, with someone, I would finally have MY 'Happily Ever After'! I still accepted Disney's lie as the truth. I would soon find out, though (and even so, still have to be taught this again in more hard, and hurtful, ways), that love was not something being sought from me, by the men that I would meet in these nightclubs, or, actually, men that I met anywhere else, either. It was not what they were really after, with me. Although whatever it was, that they were after, varied, depending on the individual man, it was always something other than love for which they tried to get into my life. Or, my body. That fact was, eventually, going to pound itself, so deeply, into my heart, that it would lead to the death of my dream--- to truly love and be loved--- and even, almost, to the death OF ME! But, I get ahead of myself, here; about that. Right now, I was still trusting. I was still naive. I was still a decent human being. Because of all that I, still, believed, that if someone knew me, they would love me. In my character, values, and personality I was, still, much more 'Deborah', than I was 'Stevie', on the spectrum between these two seemingly opposite parts of me. I was such a good person! The trouble was, I needed love, in my life, to anchor me, there, now. I'd been deprived of it for far too long in my life, and I was becoming a badly damaged soul, because of that. I'd tried, as hard as I could, to hang on to my belief that love was real, and that its healing power would find me, touch me, and transform me, through that intimate unity, with some other soul; even though, when I thought I had found it, or, it had found me, it turned out to only be teasing me. It was cruel, that men were willing, to break my heart and shatter my soul into pieces to use me, and use me up, the ways that they had, and would, do. There is a Bob Marley quote which resonates with the deepest pain in me that has been caused by men: The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her. I was already devastated by my son's father, Jim, having done that. The last thing I needed was for that to ever happen to me again; but it would. I blamed myself by then, though, for allowing it, because I had kept my heart open, to love. I learned, not to do that anymore, before it was all said and done, which is what led to my doing prostitution, near the very end of my dancer career. For now, though, I was, still, both a dancer and an innocent.
All the while, I was learning more, about how, to be a dancer, I was also performing, on stage, and vice versa, as I continued becoming 'Stevie', my dancer self. I am a very cerebral person, who typically leads much more with my brain than my body, so this did not come naturally, for me. I was encouraged, by the fact that I saw myself (slowly) improve, including learning more about how to converse with the customers. I had initially been pretty clueless about what they liked to talk about, and to hear, from me, in those verbal exchanges; so, I was mostly missing the mark in conversations with them. These men were mainly strangers to me and I didn't yet know how to jump right into some intimate-sounding conversation, with them, which was well peppered with innuendo, and served up with a sexier, sultry, tone, to my voice. I learned that, though. I still didn't have any 'regulars', yet; customers that came there strictly to see me, like some of the other dancers did. The guys I sat with in the beginning, which were willing to buy me drinks (which most of the Go Go bars in this area required us to sell, each shift, as drinks tallied toward our quota; at the minimum), seemed to me, to be doing it more out of a tolerant politeness than, really, wanting my company, for themselves specifically. My thick eyeglasses and fairly flat chest might have been part of what was off-putting to them back then, but I also kept myself well covered up, wearing a short, and silky, but very baggy, kimono robe over my costume, when I wasn't up on the stage. It took me awhile to shed my layers, both of clothing and self-consciousness. The sheer pantyhose had been legally required under my costumes, when I was first a dancer, in Iowa. I liked, their silky sleekness on my legs, their extra warmth, since I had little clothing on my body, otherwise, and, their protection, from grabby guys, who, especially while tipping me, would, sometimes, try to take that opportunity to try to 'cop a feel'. So, I was the only dancer, I ever saw, in any Go Go bar where pantyhose weren't required, to continue, wearing those, pinned in, underneath my costumes; and I did that my entire career!
As my dancer persona, and stage skills, evolved, my tips improved. I was able to afford to buy more, and nicer, costumes. No more hand-me-downs, from other dancers, 'Plain Jane'-looking ones, or ill-fitting ones that unintentionally revealed parts of my body that they shouldn't be. My body, which was always a slender size 6, began to become toned, more like I had looked after Air Force Basic Training, which was sleeker and sexier. It was simply a byproduct of dancing 6 nights a week being alot of exercise. While I am not well-endowed, in the chest area (but wore padded push-up bras, to compensate for that, some, on stage), I have shapely legs and a nice butt. As my cute, full, rounded, 'bubble butt'* tightened, from the dance moves, it sat up higher, and perkier, and looked luscious enough that men wanted to grab it (only there were bouncers in the bar, preventing that; for the most part). Another benefit I noticed from dancing was that it greatly improved my back, to the point that I had virtually no pain left, from that persistent back injury I had gotten due to doing patient lifting, when I was a Nursing Assistant. That was a nice, and unexpected, bonus, to this new career I was pursuing now. Because my stomach muscles tightened, especially, from doing a move called a 'body roll'**, my back issue greatly improved! Even wearing stiletto heels, to dance in, which are considered notoriously bad, for women with bad backs, was not a problem, because my back felt so much better and stronger, now. Also, I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, in this environment, and like I was fitting in, more, even though, my being starved for love, and wanting to make meaningful connections with the employees, and the customers, in the nightclub, put me at odds, both emotionally, and socially, with the mindset of the people around me. The other dancers were all much more enthusiastic about how good their tips were, for the night, and while they seemed cynical, to me, that way, I seemed foolish, to them, by believing, that there, might, be love, in this world; that was worth it.
Occasionally one of the girls would be asked to go to some guy's home to do a Bachelor Party or to go dance for them there for some other, less specific, reason. Sometimes, judging by the conversations I overheard, it was also going to include something other than just dancing, this girl was willing to do, with this guy, or a group of guys. According to them, it was well worth the risk to their personal safety, because the money was really good. Some, went all alone, but at least one, that I knew, insisted that she bring her own bodyguard with her, or, No Deal. I was a rape survivor, already, so that was not something I could see myself doing. I also have always, at my core, been someone who believes that sexuality is something special, even sacred, and therefore, that mine is ideally to be shared only with someone that I love, that loves me. As we were all in the dressing room, one night, getting ready, to start the show at the club, Tammy, a bold, brash, black, dancer, I worked with there, asked me, as the 'new girl', in a friendly way, if I wanted to go along with her, to learn the ropes, for doing a Bachelor Party, after work. All the other dancers glanced up, at me, from applying their eyeliner, teasing their hair out, or putting on their costumes, to hear my answer, because they were always curious, about 'newbies', to see who they really were, then adjust their own comfort level, with the girl, accordingly. [If you were too tame, in their opinion, they could get a little paranoid, around you, as they started to wonder if you could even be an undercover cop, for example. There was a good deal of drug use, among some--- but not all--- of the dancers, and a few, that were prostitutes, on the side. I didn't smoke, didn't drink (back then), and didn't do drugs; so, not doing sex, for money--- or even sleeping around--- raised suspicion about me from others in the bar, throughout most of my career, causing some of the girls to distrust me, to some extent.] Seeing every girl, in that dressing room, stop, to hear what my response was, to Tammy, about her invitation to me, to join her, at the Bachelor gig, I felt really corny, as I replied, "No thanks. I don't want to do that stuff. I'm waiting for love! I want that guy to know, when he finds me, that, I may be a dancer, but it's only my job; not my lifestyle." Some of the girls looked shocked by that answer, some looked a little wistful, for their own innocence lost, somewhere along the way. Tammy, and at least one other girl, laughed out loud at that, though, as Tammy said, "GIRL! You better learn how to SHAKE THAT 'MONEY MAKER', while YOU STILL HAVE IT, because, that thing ain't always gonna be somethin' men will PAY to SEE, an' there ain't NO SUCH FUCKING THING as 'LOVE'! You betta get REAL, girl!" I didn't believe that; then. Although, sadly, I would, later.
To be sure, every single one of us, having had men that we had loved, in our personal lives, in our past, had lived to seriously regret allowing them in, to our lives, and, our bodies, due to the absolute heartbreak they had caused us, as an unfair exchange, for that risk, we took, on their behalf. Being a caregiver, as a Nurse's Aide, and, a nanny, had emphasized my nurturing side, and had thankfully been well reciprocated by those that I had cared for--- the patients, and the children--- developing real, and caring, bonds, with one another. Even the nursing staff, at the hospital, had enveloped me with their caring and concern, for all involved, which included their nurture and support of me. In a sense, we dancers competed with one another; for tips; for the customers to buy us the club-required-quota, of drinks, each night; and, for status. I was at the very bottom of that ladder to dancer success, in the beginning, of course, but I was on my way. I realized that, while I was learning, from the other dancers, and was grateful, to them, for that, and even became closer, in a sense, to some of the girls I worked with, more than others, that the cohesiveness I had so cherished, with the entire medical staff I had previously been a part of, was just not something that the bar atmosphere was going to foster, for me. It was more of a sense of my belonging to the scene, itself, than with one another, relationally, and was much more superficial in almost every way. For the drinkers, or drug users, in the bar, getting a buzz on together was the closest they came to bonding. They were feeling good together, but really apart. In contrast, the nursing staff at the hospital where I had worked, had been joined closely together, in a noble, common cause. Our hearts had been open and our minds had been clear.
Over time, though, when, and as, love didn't happen, for me, I began to let go of believing in it, little, by little, yet steadily, until I began to drift, farther, and farther, away, from any hope, losing my moral compass, in the process. Studies have been done, documenting the effect of lack of love, even on animals. This deep, unmet, need can cause a failure to thrive, in way(s), among other negative effects caused by the deprivation. There is clearly a reason that God's greatest commandments are to love Him and to love others, which indicate how necessary it is! Yet the world has far too little, of it; and, the consequences, of that, whether in one individual's life, or, in all lives, is incalculable. There is an article on what I'm describing here about myself which I recommend that you read: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tech-support/201711/6-things-daughters-unloving-parents-need-unlearn. It was written by Peg Streep***. These are excerpts from her article: "Many women it seems, hang on to what our culture preaches in the hopes that they catch the brass ring, although research shows that children who grow up with a secure style of attachment-- whose emotional needs were met, in childhood, who felt loved, and supported and grew to have confidence in their thoughts and feelings-- are more likely to dodge the someday - my - prince - will - sweep - me - off - my - feet vision [that] our culture encourages and find a relationship that is both durable and nurturing. . . . Infants . . . deprived of face-to-face interaction and touch fail to thrive and can, in fact, die. That gives you a pretty clear sense of how important . . . love and caring — are to our species. . . . We learn about love by the love we are shown and by love’s absence or presence in our family of origin. . . . the coping mechanisms the unloved daughter develops . . . operate largely unconsciously. That is . . . part of the problem because, unseen, they influence and shape the unloved daughter’s behaviors. . . . The unloved daughter lacks a sense of belonging in her family of origin, and if she doesn’t belong there, where will she ever belong? . . . That daughter has already internalized that love hurts . . . . What we learned about love in childhood can be unlearned . . . . Recognizing that we were starved for affection is an important first step." I agree with my counselors over the years who having heard my life story say that it is amazing that I survived all that I have been through, even as well as I have! I give God all the glory for that, because of His Grace and Mercy, toward me, and His becoming my 'Love Anchor' in life. He had always wanted, to be that to me, and tried, to do that for me, but because we humans are given Free Will, by Him, I had to allow, even invite, Him to, before He could. Although I've survived everything I have gone through, I am also damaged, as a result, of all of it. Scars on my body, my soul, and my spirit, easily identify me, as one, of the walking wounded. As much as I would like for that to not be the case, for me, and I continue working on myself, in various ways, to try to improve on the condition, I am in, it is simply the reality of the consequences of my accumulated life experiences; of the effect of sin in my life. The sins of others and my own.
One night, as I was sitting at a table, in the bar, waiting for my turn to go on stage to dance, a waitress there, at the Razzle Dazzle, told me that there was a brand new Go Go bar opening, over in Omaha, and they needed dancers. The Razzle was directly across the Missouri River from there, in Council Bluffs, Iowa, but since I lived in Omaha what she was saying to me got my interest. I like things in my life to be as simple as possible, as often as possible! Probably because I am so weary, from all the things, and all the times, that have not been that way, for me. I was not sure why she told me that, or what other dancers she may have also told there. Part of me wondered whether it was a nice way to get rid of me, although, I had been rehired on the spot. Mickey owned this bar, though, and I had no doubt, that he well remembered my telling him, not to ever touch me, again, after he had grabbed my butt cheek, when I had first started working there, and I had not known he was my boss when I told him off for doing that. Still, he had never been hostile toward me, even when that happened, and he did not appear to be holding a grudge, against me, for it. I was never sure of the waitress's motive for telling me, but it didn't look like it would be anything I would be able to pursue anyway, after I asked her who was managing this new nightclub, and, she told me that Dick McGinnis was. He had been the manager here at the Razzle Dazzle, who had hired me the first time I worked there. Since Dick had also fired me, from the Razzle, I felt sure that he would have no interest at all in having me working for him again, so I let it go at that, after explaining to the waitress that it was the reason, that I would not be looking into the possibility of my working at this new club.
About a week later, she brought it up to me again, though, saying that she had talked to Dick, about it, and that, he remembered me, and was, offering me the job, if I wanted to work there. When she told me the location of the other Go Go bar in Omaha it was walking distance from where I lived! That was a tremendous selling point for me. I didn't like being on the streets for very long, or very far, after my shifts ended at the Razzle at 2 AM, 6 nights a week, because I was getting off work when all the bars in the area were closing, and that unfortunately meant alot of drunks were driving on those streets at that time. It felt too risky, to me, to be out there among them as I was trying to get home from work. The bars in Omaha, Nebraska closed an hour earlier, too; at 1 AM (when I was a dancer), which meant that I wouldn't have to work as late, and could get home, eat, unwind some, and still get to bed before dawn. Since Dick had apparently already hired me, so, if I wanted the job, it was mine, I went to work for him, at the Backdoor Lounge. It was a fairly small bar, in the back room of the Smoke Pit, a very popular BBQ Restaurant. That was another plus, for me, too! I was always really hungry after burning lots of calories, dancing all night, and the restaurant stayed open later than the bar, giving me time to either eat there, or get Take-Out, before I headed home. Often, club customers would even offer to buy me the meal over in the restaurant, at the end of the night. All in all, it was a much better situation for me. Easy hires. Better money. Music. Dancing. Meals being paid for. I could get used to this! Everything has good and bad, to it, in this world, it seems; but for me, for the first time in a long time, life was starting to feel more sweet, and less bitter. I liked that!
 |
| The Smoke Pit BBQ Restaurant and The Backdoor Lounge, in Omaha, Nebraska |
Just as I had done at the Razzle, I also closely watched the other dancers up on stage here at the Backdoor Lounge, as I continued to learn more about how to dance, in this way, in a thong bikini, this up-close to club customers, without being uncomfortably self-conscious while doing so. I was impressed, even amazed, at times, by how sensuously and enticingly some of these girls could move on that stage. I still couldn't make eye contact with these men when I was up there. In fact, although I had gotten my first contact lenses, while I was in Miami, working as a nanny, I preferred, to wear my eyeglasses, and take them off, when I went up to dance. Being quite nearsighted, with astigmatism, my vision was reduced to the point that I could really only see those men sitting at the tables that were right next to the stage. The rest were only a blur! As I slowly but steadily improved in my Go Go dance moves, during my turns up on stage, my tips from the customers began to increase. Sometimes, though, dancing on stage fairly blindly went against me. Other dancers would occasionally tell me that a customer had been holding up folded money, as a tip, for me, of some denomination, but that they had withdrawn it after I appeared to them to be ignoring that, or refusing it, when I had simply not seen them! >sigh!< Even though I, occasionally, lost tip money, this way, I was, still, making the best money that I had ever made, in any job, or career field, in my life. By far! This was the 80s. The music was perfect, for dancing to! Things generally seemed more lighthearted, and fun. It kind of felt like it was a never-ending party, in a way; until, it wasn't, anymore. I MISS that decade in so many ways and for so many reasons. Those had felt like the best years of my life! After barely being able to make ends meet financially for years, before I started dancing, this was alot more fun!
This environment was definitely an escape from reality, for the most part, for everyone, there, in some way or other. If the sexy music or the drinks, or both, didn't carry you somewhere far away, from your everyday existence, in your thoughts and emotions, then the 'Live On Stage' entertainment, surrounded by blinking light bulbs, while, the rest of the room was under cover of darkness, beckoned bar goers, through sheer titillation. The undercurrent of sexual energy and frustration in that room was electric! A thick cloud of cigarette smoke that hung heavily in the air (for many years, in those nightclubs, before the law was finally changed, prohibiting it) caused it to look like some hazy netherworld for lost souls, adding to a sense of unreality that was either delightfully or frightfully drawing us all in, keen to explore ourselves and the others in some way. We, all, craved, being in these bars. Each in our own way; for our own reasons. We were seduced, by something, about it, that drew us, there, and then, held us, in its grasp, long after it began to make us miserable, instead, and we, finally, had to recognize and admit that it was not good for us. I hadn't comprehended any of this, that I'm describing to you now, about it, when I was new to it, though. I only knew that, it compelled me, to be a part of it, and it motivated me, to learn so much, about so many things, that were so foreign, to me, and my life. The nightly circus, that it was, also distracted me--- quite well, actually--- from that, deep, heartache, that had come to continually plague my consciousness, without relief--- except for here. Maybe it is the most blasphemous way, to say this, but, it was a Godsend, for me! I am not sure that I would have survived without it, in my life, to change me, and to strengthen me; teach me 'street smarts', that I came to value so much more than the 'book smarts' that I had before that which had seemed to serve little of any practical purpose as I tried to navigate my way through all that life had dealt me. If I had to choose a song as background music, to also convey the atmosphere and the environment, that I am describing here, as far as what it was like to be in, and a part of, these Go Go bars it would be 'Hotel California'. Here is the link for the Eagles, performing, this, hit song, live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niIX0QcYRzE.
Hotel California
Eagles
On a dark desert highway
Cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinkin' to myself
'This could be heaven or this could be hell
Then she lit up a candle
And she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (any time of year)
You can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted
She got the Mercedes Benz, uh
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
That she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain
"Please bring me my wine"
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling
The pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax", said the night man
"We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave"
Cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinkin' to myself
'This could be heaven or this could be hell
Then she lit up a candle
And she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (any time of year)
You can find it here
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted
She got the Mercedes Benz, uh
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
That she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain
"Please bring me my wine"
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"
And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis
Mirrors on the ceiling
The pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax", said the night man
"We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave"
Songwriters: Glenn Lewis Frey / Don Felder / Donald Hugh Henley
So much was an illusion in these dark clubs with the flashing lights and loud, pulsating, music, with dancers wearing thick masks, of makeup, and using, fake, stage names, not only for their own protection, and privacy, but to seem like even more of a fantasy figure, in the minds of the male customers, who had left their real world, everyday lives, behind, and escaped them here, to encounter that. Dancer aliases were very often sexually suggestive. A large-boobed girl that I worked with went by the--- fairly obvious--- dancer name of 'Peaches' after getting the breast implants, to live up to that. Her real name was Peggy; and her real body had been less chesty. [I explained how I came to have my dancer name, of 'Stevie', in a previous post. The short of it was that I took it from the name of a very prominent doctor, that I knew, from the hospital that I had worked in, after he ended our relationship. But, I made it my own! Here, is the link, for that post: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/10/from-my-giving-all-i-had-to-my-showing.html.] Almost every Go Go bar, I ever worked in, seemed to have dancers going by 'Angel' and 'Diamond'. There was also usually a 'Chastity' who was anything but that. Even when I got to know someone in the bar that I worked in, whether it was a co-worker, or a customer, it didn't really seem like it was truly them I was interacting with. It was often more of a superficial posturing, that they put forth, or even just some type of, outrageous, over-the-top attitude, that made them seem much more plastic, than real, to me; and, when that fell shorter still of their apparent aim, to reinvent themselves, even left them looking downright cartoonish! There were times this turned into some hilarious sideshow, and People Watching in there was one of my favorite pastimes, in between, doing my dances, up on stage (though, sometimes, I even caught myself doing that from up there!). From Bachelor Parties, coming in, to bouncers jumping on jerks to kick them out of the bar for getting too far out of line, it was clear that all of the live entertainment, on any given night, in the Go Go bars, was not, just from their dancers!
Virtually everyone, in these places, had an angle; some agenda, they wanted to succeed with to make it "a good night!" Even, at times, regardless of the cost, or consequence, in their lives once this 'party' was over. "LAST CALL, FOR ALCOHOL!" the waitress told the customers, as they tried to make their final tip for the night. At closing time, as the buzzed crowd nursed that last drink, the, harsh, glaring, overhead lights abruptly switch on, making the magic disappear in a split-second 'POOF!', as this very same room, that had felt like such a Fantasy Land, just moments before, suddenly appears dilapidated and dingy. Stale, gray, cigarette smoke hangs in the air, like a haze. Insecurities had battled against ambitions, within each soul, all evening, as people played their head, and heart, games, with one another; hedging their bets, by each showing the other, only, what they wanted them to see, and to think, that they were. Now, this moment of reckoning had arrived for them to, finally, find out which of the two opposing forces had won, based on what the goal was, that one had in mind. Of course, it was sad, to me, but no surprise, that married men, that came in, often, told the dancers that they were single, and even those that actually admitted, they were married (and, some, even happily married; or so they claimed), still, wanted to get the dancer, of their dreams, to have sex with them. Dancers who happened to be confirmed Man-Haters had, acted, available and even interested, during the evening, as long as the money kept coming, to them, out of the guy's wallet, and into their bikini bottom, as tips. But, NOW? . . . they tell this sucker that, stupidly, thought he could play, use, or take advantage of, them--- after they already had that happen, to them, earlier in their lives, by some jerk, that they had actually loved and trusted NOT to do that, to them: "Oh my! The sitter told me, when I called home, just now, that they can't stay longer, tonight, so I have to hurry home." (They have no kids.) After adding, they're 'OH SO SORRY, they can't be with the guy; not TONIGHT, anyway, . . . .' (to try, to keep him on their hook, for future tips, until he finally figures it out) they vanish into the night after giving him their (fake; non-working) phone number, that he asked for. This is what I saw, working at these bars; and, I eventually learned.
To be honest, and transparent, here, I have to admit that I, also, eventually did things like this after a few too many men tried to pull their crap with me. It is one of my, hardest, confessions, to make, in my life! Worse, it was not always done--- by any, of us, doing it--- strictly, tit for tat, only on whom had perpetrated it on us, and may have, therefore, 'deserved' it, being done, to them. At some point, people that hadn't done it, to anyone, and didn't have it coming, to them, had it done, to them, anyway; for whatever reason, or motivation, the perpetrator had, to do it. There is that expression 'Hurt people hurt people'. There are not alot of things I am actually ashamed of, in my life, but my choice, to, disgracefully, hustle, some, undeserving, people, in my dancer career is definitely on the list of things that I would like to think that I would change or undo, if only, I could go back, in time. I once gave a guy, named Robin, that I actually even really liked, a fake phone number--- to the animal spay-neuter clinic (LOL)--- because he had come into this club as an assistant manager and had started to try to sleep with every dancer there, one after another, causing jealousy, arguments, and distrust between the dancers, who thought he was worth it. Hating myself, for still liking him, as a person, despite, something this despicable, to me, I gave him the wrong phone number, to try to make a point about his penis. It all sounds pathetic, I know; but I do think that there's some justice in gamers getting gamed.
In the dressing rooms, at the end of the night, some of the girls, whose feet hurt, or who didn't make enough tips, to be happy, that night, were now being bitchy, as they shed their sexiness and sequins, and put on their snarkiness and sweatpants. Others, too tired, to talk, to anyone, anymore, at all, still showed their own signs, of wear and tear, from the flakes of mascara that had fallen onto their faces, to the teased-out hairdos that had somehow deflated in spite of all the hairspray coating them. I listened to the comments, back and forth, between the girls, as I quickly pulled on my jeans over my costume, to go home; sometimes adding my own, into the mix, but mostly, just trying to get out of there, get something to eat, and put my feet up awhile. The comments between the dancers, often sounded something like this: "Oh! Honey! I LIKED your new costume you wore tonight! That REALLY HID those STRETCHMARKS, across your stomach."; "Oh my God! My FUCKING FEET HURT! . . . Geez; they STINK, too! I'm going to throw these shoes out!"; "Wait! What SIZE, are they!?"; "Babygirl! Trust me! YOU don't WANT these SMELLY OLD SHOES!"; "Ladies, I, had a GOOD night, tonight! I made money, off that one guy, I sat with! I think he's going to be my new 'regular'! He said, he'd be back."; "You can get us CLOSED DOWN, doin' the kind of lap dance that you were giving that guy tonight, and we'll ALL be OUT of MONEY! I saw, what you were rubbin', on him, and the undercover cops, that we get in here, coulda seen that too. You're messing with MY money, if you get us SHUT DOWN!"; "Can you . . . pass me that trashcan? I think, I'm going to throw up."; "You shouldn't be doing those shots. That's some strong shit!"; "Man! She PUKED, in it; and, it STINKS! I'M GONE!"; "I don't know why you have to drink that much. I quit drinking, last year, and I get up, on that stage, stone-sober. Every night! Why don't you quit drinking, so much, like that? It will make you OLD BEFORE YOUR TIME! Do you wanna LOOK OLD? . . . I can smell that vomit in here. Why didn't you go to the restroom, to do that?"; "She's naked. I can't find her clothes! She's SO fucked up!"; "Well, I'm outta here! See you bitches, tomorrow. I'm headed to TACO BELL DRIVE THRU!"; "Did YOU tell that one guy I WAS MARRIED, so he'd sit with YOU and NOT ME? FUCK YOU, Bitch! Don't even lie, about it!" The show we put on every night was--- almost all--- a masquerade . . . both intriguing, and empty, all at the same time; and when the masks came off, after the lights came up, it was really just a group of regular girls, whose feet hurt, and hearts were broken, that were trying, their best--- DAMN IT!--- in spite of everything, crappy, about being a woman in THIS world--- to, just SURVIVE, it; and, keep on, keeping on.
The Eagles are my all-time favorite band and I especially love their expressive, emotive, lyrics.
There is another one, of their songs, that sums up what a night at the Go Go bar was like. The following, is the, audio, link, for them performing this song, 'Heartache Tonight', and, the lyrics:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feduLprAAig
Heartache Tonight
Eagles
Somebody's gonna hurt someone before the night is through.
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
Some people like to stay out late
Some folks can't hold out that long
But nobody wants to go home now; there's too much goin' on
This night is gonna last forever. Last all, last all summer long
Some time before the sun comes up the radio is gonna play that song
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Lord, I know.
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
The moon's shinin' bright, so turn out the light, and we'll get it right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache to night, I know
Somebody's gonna hurt someone (somebody) before the night is through
Somebody's gonna come undone; there's nothin' we can do (everybody)
Everybody wants to touch somebody, if it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Let's go.
We can beat around the bushes; we can get down to the bone
We can leave it in the parkin' lot, but either way
There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
There'll be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know
Songwriters: Glenn Frey / Don Henley / Bob Seger / John David Souther
* [Urban Dictionay] "Bubble Butt - Contrary to popular belief Bubble Butts are ~not~ big asses. Bubble Butts are round like a globe, usually complement a slender/slim body, they are very tight and firm . . . . 'she is skinny but - damn - she has a bubble-li-cious bubble butt ass.'"
* [Urban Dictionay] "Bubble Butt - Contrary to popular belief Bubble Butts are ~not~ big asses. Bubble Butts are round like a globe, usually complement a slender/slim body, they are very tight and firm . . . . 'she is skinny but - damn - she has a bubble-li-cious bubble butt ass.'"
** body roll: (a video, showing this move) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jd1nuA61mc (a GIF, showing this move) https://images.app.goo.gl/cJv5aj8Ri5r5PozPA
(a GIF, of Rihanna body roll) https://images.app.goo.gl/Ms9dU3af9ohhKRaq6
*** Peg Streep is the author of the book Daughter Detox: Recovering from an Unloving Mother and Reclaiming Your Life, and has written or co-authored 12 books. Online: pegstreep.com.
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
The First Time I Ever Worked As A Nanny
The first time that I ever worked as a nanny was a real eye-opener for me, as I began to learn some things about these people who choose for whatever financial and/or emotional reasons to bring a complete stranger into their home to live with them 24/7 in this personal setting and put that person largely in charge of their children, and very often, their home. Some people in this line of work find very satisfying situations but there are many stories of nannies that were very unhappy with these jobs for a variety of reasons. I worked for 5 different families before I was finally so tired of both bad and bizarre parental behaviors that I couldn't subject myself to that career field anymore. It seemed to me that it was the parents, who needed the nanny, for themselves, rather than this really being about having one for the children! While some of the children that I worked with as a nanny were very spoiled, entitled-behaving brats, others were really great kids. The real problem, with the job, always came down to the parents; enough so that I was really unhappy in these situations because there was no escaping it. I lived where I worked and worked where I lived. I could (try to) run by distancing myself, either by staying in my room or leaving the house whenever I had time off to get away for a bit, but I couldn't hide. Based on behaviors that I both witnessed and was subjected to, in these homes, and my own family, as well as with other families, I have been exposed to, throughout my life, there seems to be no such thing as a 'normal', 'healthy' family. Just dysfunctional ones, to some degree, or other. Sin, is the sickness in the souls of all of humanity, with selfishness at the very center of that malady which skews, warps, undermines, and ruins, our relationships with one another. I think that being a, live-in, nanny caused me to realize that dysfunctional families are probably much more common than well-adjusted ones although those happier ones are so much more pleasant to deal with or to be involved in. Due to what I experienced with this, I would have to say that selfishness causes the most damage in this world although many people would likely not ever even think of that as being a sin. From indifference, to wars, whenever and wherever there is selfishness, in any, of those involved, there is bound to be strife. For this reason, God gave us His two greatest commandments: to love Him and to love our neighbor as ourselves*. That instruction is the antidote to what is wrong, in so many human relationships, of which the family unit is the most central of them all. Our life's purpose is found in our giving not in taking.
I had not worked as a Go Go dancer at the Razzle Dazzle for very long, after my employment at the hospital, so I still had some reasonably fresh references, written for me from the nurses that I had worked with there, which highly recommended me as being a wonderful caregiver. I had begun applying to be a live-in nanny, after I was fired, from the Razzle Dazzle, which was something that had never happened to me, before, and had really shaken me up. I decided to revert back to my caregiver skill set, which was well-documented, and highly prized, since my proficiency as a nightclub dancer remained rough and unrefined and the bar environment was fairly incomprehensible to me. I had given up thinking about the strange-seeming way that the circumstances had conspired to lead me back to living in Omaha, after my discharge from the Air Force base, in this area, when I had no intention of ever living here, again, after that. I was feeling like I really needed to find another direction, for my life, where, what I had to offer, as a human being, and as an employee, would really be appreciated, and valued, again, like it had been, by both my co-workers and the patients that I cared for, when I worked in nursing at the hospital as a CNA. But, because I felt so burned out emotionally, from the intensity of all that I had to deal with, and try to adjust to, especially those last several years, of my life, I wanted a real change of scenery, as well. There were suddenly several domestic employment agencies running ads in the newspaper. Live-in nanny employment was becoming a booming business, around this time, and these agencies were primarily trying to find girls from the Midwest, to do these jobs. Part of the reason for that was that there was a strong stereotype that Midwestern women were more conservative, in their values and behaviors. Families felt that the girls from the coasts, where they were also largely located themselves, would not be as willing to do the work, required in these jobs, due to their, generally, being perceived as more aspirational and sophisticated. These parents had idealizations of the nanny they were looking for, which were equally divided between two distinct possibilities. They either wanted a wholesome, grounded, hardworking, farm-raised Midwestern girl or they would literally--- and with a seriously straight face!--- demand nothing less than the fictional and magical "Mary Poppins". Even both in one! On the flip side of the employer-employee equation they gave little if any introspective thought to how their own character, values, and personality would have a direct effect on the outcome.
Although I was now in my late twenties and most of the nannies being hired were in their early twenties, that was looked upon favorably, as my having life experience, plus, my proven ability to handle responsibility for the direct care of others. I had also been a homemaker when I was married, so I had those domestic skills, as well. It was a bit trickier trying to put forth that I had childcare experience, from newborn to toddler, when that direct care was for my own son, Jay, before I transferred his custody, to his father and stepmother. This was very valid and relevant childcare experience but the circumstance could certainly be construed in such a way as to be potentially off-putting to people. Especially, as far as the emotional reaction to that, by families seeking childcare for their own children. While I initially felt some anxiety and apprehension as I applied and interviewed for nanny jobs, it turned out not to be an obstacle to overcome, at all. My forthright explanation, that I was divorced from his father, had originally had full custody, of my son, but had ideally wanted for him to be raised in a two-parent home, was something that even the divorced parents that I would work for as a nanny grasped as the ultimate desirability. Aside from caring for my own son I had only had some previous babysitting jobs when I was a teenager, back in high school. I had never planned on having any children of my own because I was deeply concerned about my family's dysfunction tainting my own child's life just as it had mine, by either their presence in my child's life, or my somehow passing some of that along to my own child, from not knowing how to do any better, since that was the familial role modeling that I had been exposed to, and raised in, myself. While I didn't shun or dislike children by any means, my intention, to not have any myself, made them rather peripheral people in my world. I was an excellent caregiver for the adults I had taken care of, when I was a Nursing Assistant. My son, Jay, had been a very healthy, and happy, child, while he was with me, and in my care. So, I was certainly quite capable of giving conscientious, and concerned, care as a nanny, too.
I was hired, through a nanny agency in Coconut Grove, Florida, to work for a family that had 3 boys, ages 5 and under, with another baby boy on the way, very soon. So, it certainly seemed that they needed a nanny. There's a large Jewish population in Miami and this family was also Jewish. The husband, David, owned a small women's clothing shop and Susan was a stay-at-home mother--- apparently fulfilling her duties as wife to him by being a baby-making machine to give him heirs. (I say that based on something she said to me about that, while I worked for them.) They lived in the Kendall area of Miami in what appeared to be a fairly standard middle-class home. There was nothing fancy or upscale, about the appearance of the place. It looked like suburbia, in many places, in the U.S., only having palm trees in the yard made it appear a bit more exotic, to me. I was hired after an over-the-phone interviewing process with, both, the agency and the family, so I was going into this situation sight unseen. Wanting to see some of the country along the way, I opted to travel by bus from Omaha to Miami instead of flying. The family paid the fare for my transportation there, so that was also cheaper for them. Although it was very interesting, traveling through alot of places on the way there, it was also very tiring. I believe I was on buses for at least a couple of days, not really being able to rest, or sleep well, at all, so when I arrived in Miami I felt extremely physically exhausted and emotionally drained. It was not the ideal way to start a new job, but it also was only going to go downhill, from there. I was about to find out what a superficial snob Susan was. Susan was also a classic narcissist. Those are the kinds of traits and behaviors that turn me off completely! As an empath**, even when I do not want to care about others, anymore, I still do. When I learned from the other Go Go dancers at the Razzle Dazzle to say, "I don't give a fuck", the most I could mean by saying that was that "I WISH that I couldn't give a fuck". While I am capable of distancing myself from people who are destructive, toward me or others, I hate their poor choices, and bad behaviors, while still praying for their souls. I will not subject myself to such people, longer than I have to!
Susan was there with her mother to look me over when I arrived. I am sure I looked a little the worse for wear after my long trip. Then Susan wanted to see how I interacted with the children so she sent me outside onto the wooden deck in the backyard with these boys, right away, for an hour or so, as she sat in the air-conditioned den, watching us together. The littlest boy kept taking one shoe off, then holding it up, for me to put back on him, which I did, then taking it off again and having me put it back on him, about a dozen times in a row, which I wearily obliged him, as I tried to begin bonding with these kids while I felt dead on my feet, from my days long journey. There is an ongoing debate about whether boys are harder to raise than girls***, but I could already see, by the energy level of these little boys, Daniel, Andrew, and Eric, that I had my work cut out for me, trying to keep up with them. I had to hit the ground running in this job, from that very first moment that I had arrived in this house, without a chance to rest, catch my breath, or even sit and eat anything. Susan just stayed indoors, with her mother, watching the children and I outside, in that muggy tropical heat and humidity. Feeling like I was sinking fast, from fatigue, and my other, unmet, human needs, I asked if I could possibly take a nap due to traveling for days to get there, when I could not even lay down on the buses. I was too tired to even feel hungry, by then. Her mother advocated for me to get some rest, and I was shown to my room. It was huge, but only because it had actually once been their two-car garage, which they had, apparently, first turned into a party room, complete with the furnishings of a several-seat-bar, set up in the corner, and now made into the nanny room. There was a small bed set up for me, in the corner, but no other actual furniture to make it look like a proper bedroom for someone. At least I could set up my makeup mirror on the bar, and sit down on one of the bar stools, I told myself, as I tried, to make the best of it. The rest of that room just looked junky. It had things lying around, that they had stored away in there, out of view of the main part of the house. It was a dark and gloomy-feeling space; a depressing environment, for me, to live in. I wondered uneasily whether they didn't make it more homey as my bedroom so they could still use it to throw parties. I lay down for that nap, and woke up the next morning! Susan's mother had encouraged her to just let me sleep, when I did not wake up, later, that first evening, from my nap. I describe all of that, to say, that, from the beginning, Susan's instincts were for me to give my all and need nothing in return as far as having my basic human needs met. Had it not been for her mother being there, on the day I arrived, and knowing Susan, as I came to, while working for her, I would not have gotten a nap, or had any of my own needs either recognized or addressed. Susan was the center of the universe, to Susan. No one else seemed to matter.
The relationship between a family and their nanny employee is a very symbiotic one. It has to ultimately work for everyone, to work for anyone, and, when it doesn't work, it is the kids, who suffer the most. If they continually have to adjust to new nannies, one after another, and, after bonding with them these people then leave their lives, it can cause the children to develop an attachment disorder****. My being the nanny, for this family, was doomed to fail from the start, because Susan seemed oblivious to her impact on people, or else she was just really good at being indifferent to others around her. I was continually distressed, by seeing how she treated not only me but her own innocent, impressionable, little children, as well. She seemed to be a completely narcissistic person who behaved as if the world revolved around her. Such people as that turn me off, to begin with, so, living with one, and answering to one, as the nanny, was very disheartening, to me. Her husband, David, worked almost all the time, so he wasn't there the majority of the time, to see how things, really, were, when he was absent. He was the sole breadwinner, for this young and continually growing family. The little that I saw of him, in those 6 weeks or so that I lived there, in their home, he had seemed to be a nice enough guy. After I returned to Omaha, when this job didn't work out, for me, I was describing Susan to someone, and they said, to me, "You were obviously working for a J.A.P.!" Never having heard this term, before, I was confused by that, and clarified to this person that this woman, who had made my life so intolerable in Miami, was definitely not Japanese! They explained, that "J.A.P." stood for "Jewish American Princess" which was, stereotypically, considered to be a Jewish female who was spoiled, selfish, and stuck up. That was Susan! Although, sometimes, she did seem to be generous and supportive. According to her, though, there had to be some payoff for her in that.
Susan appraised my appearance, openly, to my face, in an unapologetically forthright manner, when I came to work for her. She sent me with her charge card, to her own hairstylist, to get a haircut that cost 10 times what the same style cost me at a walk-in hair salon, back in Omaha. The only difference was that this haircut had been done at a salon that had a fancy name and normally catered to (the ego of) people who were full of themselves, and who told themselves they must be getting 'the best', because they were paying outrageously inflated prices for it. It was a simple, basic, style, though! Next, she took me to an eye doctor because she didn't like that I wore eyeglasses, and wanted me to get contacts instead. I was initially very resistant to having those foreign objects placed into my eyes. I felt fine about myself just wearing glasses. Susan said that she would not even be seen in a grocery store with me, though, until I looked more fashionable, because I was her nanny, now, and primarily reflected on her. I assure you, that I was not unkempt, dirty, homely, or disfigured, as a human being, though she insisted on having this makeover done. I was neat, clean, and conservatively dressed. Susan simply saw everyone, and everything, around her, in her world (and it was ALL, ALWAYS, HER WORLD), as being a direct reflection on her. (That, is another narcissistic trait, by the way.) The growing popularity, and sudden proliferation, of having a nanny was seen, by these aspirational young families, as being another status symbol they could show off to others they wished to impress. She, and her friends, women whose values and lifestyle were similar, to hers, all had nannies, and she wanted hers to be attractive! She once allowed me to attend a dinner party, that they had, at their home, although not exactly as a guest. Susan simply wanted me to be seen, and known, as the family's domestic help. When I came out of my room, while I was getting ready, for that evening, to ask her something, before any of the guests got there, I had just taken the curlers out of my hair, but I had not yet brushed it out. As soon as she saw me, she raised her voice, at me, saying, with a panicked look, on her face, "NO! NO! NO! You are not coming out of your room LOOKING like THAT!" It surprised me, that she clearly didn't comprehend, that it was not styled yet; only curled. Her mother intervened, however, who was the voice of reason, with Susan and, as that, was someone for whom I was always grateful, saying to Susan, "You can SEE that she simply hasn't brushed it out, yet! She will do that before your guests arrive!"
While Susan was highly concerned, with the appearance, of my external body, she was not at all concerned about the health and wellbeing of my internal body. Her neglecting to even offer me something to eat the day I arrived in Miami to work for her, was not just a rather inhumane oversight, on her part, after I had just spent 2 or 3 days straight riding on buses, to come from Omaha to work for her. From the start, she made it seem as if I were eating too much of "her" food, and, again, since it was ALL "her" food, that didn't really leave anything for me to eat, in this house! I was active and energetic, which I needed to be in order to keep up with all those hyperactive little boys of hers; and having a high metabolism, I did need to eat enough simply to maintain my weight. But, at 5'9" and 128 pounds I wasn't obese, or 'eating her out of house and home', by any means. In fact, I was actually losing weight there, that I didn't need to lose, because Susan, continually, berated me, if I ate anything at all! I could not imagine how I was supposed to stay healthy, and be strong and energetic enough to care for all her kids, and do all the housework, for her, as well, when I was not even allowed by her to fuel my body with a minimum of basic nutrition. She was, constantly, accusing me of taking things from the pantry and eating them, myself. I was reduced to eating mere morsels, that I could find, which didn't seem to be anything that she would want, or miss, herself, just to try to survive it. I was never clear, on what she actually thought that I was supposed to eat, there! I was never offered any food, at all, by her, directly. Honestly, it was as if this woman thought that I was nothing, but a machine, that ran on autopilot, rather than an actual human being like herself, that needed to have real food, to eat, on a daily basis! Many days, despite how busy the demands of this job kept me, I simply chose to go hungry, when I could not find anything in the house that I could eat that she wouldn't later complain that she had wanted for herself, rather than have to listen to her scolding me again as she searched the kitchen for any foods that she felt were missing. While I understood that she was pregnant, and therefore was 'eating for two', she didn't seem able to acknowledge the reality of the fact that I ALSO NEEDED TO EAT. Even if only for one!
Apparently, from what she had told me, David had her on a household budget which included the expenses of her having a nanny, in the house. She was determined to cut corners, where she could, though, which I experienced as usually being at my expense. The room and board are figured in to what a live-in nanny gets paid so the money itself is often not alot, especially for the number of hours worked, and all the responsibilities, of the job. I believe I was making $100.00 a week, then, but it might have even been $75.00, and I had one day off, each week. While Susan did not directly complain to me about what she was paying me, since the nanny agencies let these families know what the acceptable, minimum, 'going rate' is, and expect at least that much money to be paid, to those nannies, they place in the homes, she did ask me, several of the weeks I was there, if she could have some of the money she had paid me back because she complained that her budget for the household expenses was too tight. I refused, to do that. Every one of the families that I worked for as a nanny, including this one, paid cash 'under the table', so to speak, as it is, thereby forcing me as the nanny to claim the income as self-employment and pay the taxes on it, myself, as well. It was a very tacky request, to begin with, by her, but I knew without a doubt that I had more than earned what she was paying me, and I also knew her, well enough, based on her actions, which revealed her character, that if I ever even 'loaned' it back, to her, I would most certainly never see that money again. I believe that is why she was on me so much, about any groceries that I ate while I was there, although she was also supposed to provide at least adequate food, for me (which she didn't), as a very important, and much-needed, part, of the room and board aspect, of my nanny compensation. She was clearly trying to pinch pennies, where she thought she could, which was basically by 'taking food out of my mouth'. Or, rather, preventing me, from getting food, she had to pay for!
The 3 children, which were already born, for me to care for, were pre-school ages, 5, 4, and 2. They were just typical, boisterous, boys; always into something, rarely ever still or quiet, often competing with one another to have my full attention. The only time they weren't like this, was on Saturday mornings, when they sat in front of the TV, watching cartoons. The 2 bigger boys were dropped off at the Jewish synagogue that their family belonged to, by their father, on his way to work, weekday mornings, for some children's activities, though, thankfully, which gave me some time to be able to focus on getting all the chores done around the house. I was very conscientious, and thorough, with the house cleaning, so when Susan told me to give special attention to cleaning the livingroom, a couple of days before her dinner party, I dusted the top of the bookshelves, in there, also, which had apparently not been done for a very long time, if ever. However, rather than appreciating that I had done a complete cleaning of the room, she complained to me, that I had raised too much dust, and that she was concerned the air would still smell dusty, when the day of her party came. I did not think that was possible, since I had deep-cleaned that room 48 hours before the event. She was not a person to be pleased, with my efforts, or show any appreciation for anything. If Susan had something to say about either my appearance or how I did my job it was always a criticism. I knew that I gave it my best but there was never any pleasing a chronic complainer, like her. She spent those hours, the boys were out of the house, sitting on the sofa in the den talking to her friends on the phone, if she didn't go out to a salon appointment or some such thing. One day, she returned home from a hair appointment after getting a perm in her hair. The curl didn't last, and had fallen out in the Miami heat and humidity by the time she got home. There weren't any cell phones back then. Just landline telephones. So as soon as she came in the house she called to complain to her hairdresser about the perm not setting in her hair, although she acknowledged that her being pregnant, and the hormonal changes in her body, due to that, likely had something to do with this outcome. She was still upset with them though because they had not found some way to make it work, on her hair. (There is an ongoing debate about whether it is even safe, to get a perm during pregnancy, due to the chemicals used that sit on the scalp for quite a while, with some absorption of those substances into the body.) After that, she called a couple of her girl friends, to complain. These women all had nothing better to do, apparently, than talk with one another for an hour or more on these calls, with Susan actually talking to one for awhile while putting the other one on Call Waiting (and as they actually sat and waited), then talking to the other one for awhile, while the other of the three had been put on hold, on Call Waiting. I had never seen anything like that before. They seemed to have nothing better to do with the time, that was more important, for them. Sometimes, Susan's complaints to her friends were about her manicurist. Outward appearances, even her own, were what mattered the most, to Susan.
Only once did I ever see Susan attentively engage in a real conversation with one of the boys (the 5-year-old, Daniel), and that was on the night of her dinner party, when he got out of bed, and showed up in the kitchen, among her guests, who were mingling and milling around. She spoke to him for a few minutes while stroking his hair with her hand in an affectionate gesture that I had never seen her do, toward any, of the children, before; or, after. Then, she sent him back to bed. David was also home then, though, and in the room, as well. It was obvious that he was very proud, of his brood of boys, which may have been why Susan suddenly seemed to be so gentle, patient, and loving, toward Daniel. When David was not at home, Susan was much more easily and quickly frustrated by the boys, and was also not nearly as attentive, or affectionate, toward them. She would sit on the couch in the den while all the boys were right there, only a few feet away from her, at the most, and definitely within earshot, and say to me which one of the children she wanted, and would take with her, if she ever divorced David for whatever reason, and which boys she would leave behind, with him--- and good riddance! It made my blood run cold to see her do this as I wondered what the impact of it could possibly be on the developing psyche, and self-esteem, of these impressionable young children. I did not even want to know, why, she felt, and talked about, that she was contemplating divorcing David*****. I knew her to be someone that was so critical, of anyone, who wasn't hellbent, on keeping her happy, whatever that took, at whatever moment; which she always wanted, from everyone, around her. Even at their own expense! Perhaps David had also failed to meet her demands, in some way, in their relationship. The days that she would carry on this way about which boys she would leave behind, in a divorce, with the boys sitting right there, hearing her, were some of the worst ones, for me, there. I had never been a nanny, before. I did not know, what I could, or should, do, if anything, about this situation! She was, my employer, after all. I knew for myself that keeping Susan satisfied was such an impossible task due to her spoiled and demanding attitude. I hated hearing her say those things, in front of the children, though.
Daniel and Andrew would often come home from the summer program at the synagogue both excitedly rushing in with their handmade craft creations from that day. These were the type of art projects that children are often shown how to make by gluing macaroni and such things to paper plates to make some type of picture out of all that. One day the boys brought home the paper plate plaques, they had made, to give to Susan. I could see their teacher had told them these were going to be something special, for their mother, to show appreciation and love, for the mothers of the kids in this craft class, because they had scrawled something in crayon on their preschool-age artwork to this effect. They came running into the house and up to Susan, who was sitting on the couch, engrossed in one of those long phone calls with her girl friends. Both boys were trying their best, to get her attention, to give her the gifts. As they each held a 'love gift', from them, out to her, she finally turned, to look at the two boys, with an expression full of annoyance. As she asked her friends to hang on, for a moment, the boys barely got the words "LOOK!" "I MADE THIS FOR YOU!" out of their mouths before Susan snapped at them impatiently, saying, "GET THOSE NASTY-LOOKING THINGS OUT OF MY FACE, AND, OUT OF MY HOUSE! GO PUT THEM IN THE TRASHCAN, RIGHT NOW!" along with a dismissive wave of her hand, in their faces, to shoo them away from her. I was so sad, for these children, and so horrified, by her. To me, the very saddest part, of all, of that, was the fact that the boys seemed so used to this type of behavior from their mother, that after just a momentary look of disappointment flashed across their faces they simply took their 'love gifts' over to the kitchen trashcan, and threw them away, as they were told to, by her. Susan, was teaching them, what was valuable, and not valuable, at all, in the world, based on her perception, that those things which were extremely superficial mattered more than a paper plate, with macaroni glued on it, crookedly, and your young child's handwriting saying that they love you. I know of many other mothers who have saved such things, from their kids, wrapped, carefully, in tissue paper, and would never throw them out for any reason. Some have even run back into a burning building to get those childhood creations out to save them! It is obviously true that 'One man's trash is another man's treasure', as the adage says. I still have things that Jay wrote, growing up, that his stepmother sent, to me, written in his childish scribble. Those things, touch me to the core, of my heart. They truly are treasures to me. Those and the few photographs that I have of him.
While I was there I did get to go to the Miami zoo one day, on my day off. I also went to one of the malls, there, which featured extremely expensive, upscale stores. Susan also arranged for me to spend a day off at South Beach, one time, instructing me, how to treat the cabana boys, which I would encounter there, for the first time in my life. Miami was an interesting and exotic place! Those were about the only outings that I got to go on while I was working for this family, as their nanny, when I was able to venture out alone on my days off, into the city itself. Where the family lived, in the suburbs, wasn't directly connected to the public transit system. It wasn't close enough, for me to access it, at all, unless Susan was willing to go out into the hot Miami summer to drive me over to what was the nearest point for me to do that; which was well past walking distance, from their house. Kendall was filled with endless, confusing, winding streets full of houses that all looked fairly similar in style where families lived with their kids, and SUV. There was simply no accessible public transportation coming anywhere near the house, that I worked in as a nanny, making it very isolating, for me, since I had no vehicle there for my own personal use. That meant that I had to depend on Susan, coming through, for me, as she had promised when I interviewed for the job, by at least driving me in her SUV to a bus stop where I could connect with the transit system, there. Most of the time, she told me that she just didn't feel like going outside, because it was so hot; and, that was that. So, sometimes, I sat outside in the yard of their house just to get away by myself on my day off, painting watercolors of the beautiful palm trees, which captivated me since they were so exotic-looking. However, I could not really get away by myself that way. Since I was still hanging around the house, on my day off, the boys would usually do all that they could to get my attention even though their parents would repeatedly ask them to leave me alone, for a little while. It was not exactly like having a real break from being at work for me. One of the trickiest parts of being a live-in nanny comes from the fact that you live, where you work, and you work, where you live. The boundaries get blurred, by someone or other involved in the situation, and suddenly you find yourself working on your day off in some capacity when you should not have to, et cetera. Even just socializing with family members, on your day off, especially, with the children, can end up feeling like you are working, which is not conducive to feeling like you actually had any time off, to yourself, to rest, relax, and do something for yourself, for a change, to recharge your own soul, for a while.
On one of my days off, things began to unravel so completely for me, in working for this family, that it became 'the beginning of the end', of my being their nanny. However, the only one that I would blame for that was Susan. But, first, I had a little adventure, in the middle of what would become a very long day, for me. David helpfully drove me farther into the city as he was going in to work; so I got to see the women's dress shop that he had, there, as well. He was, always, a very nice man, including to me. He was just not home, very much, at all, since he worked so much, to see some of what Susan put me, and their kids, through, because of her spoiled self-centeredness. He told me how to take the buses back to the closest bus stop to their house in Kendall, which, was still nowhere near, being within walking distance, of the house; so, Susan was to pick me up, when I got that far, which was only about a 5 minute drive from their house by car. I thought, that I got on the right bus, when I was trying to get back, only I ended up in a colorful, run-down-looking, urban neighborhood, that I knew, could not have me heading in the right direction. When I asked the bus driver about it, he suggested I get off that bus, there, and get on a different one, going the other way, that should be the one, that I needed. As I stepped off that bus, and it drove away, out of sight, leaving me there at the corner bus stop, it became immediately apparent that I was the 'gringa'. Everyone, in the area, stopped, and stared at me, curiously, which was my first clue, that I was somewhere, that nobody, including me, expected me to be! I was the only Caucasian anywhere around there, as far as the eye could see. Then, I noticed, that none of the shop signs, or anything else that I saw, there, was in English. It was all, only Spanish! I have never been to any foreign country in my life, but this situation was the closest that I have ever come to what that would actually feel like to me, even though this was in Miami, Florida, U.S.A.! I was never more grateful in all of my life, that I had taken 3 years of Spanish, in high school, as when I was able to speak to a couple of people standing nearby in the only language they spoke, explaining where I was trying to go, by bus. (My initial attempts to get some help from them, while speaking in English, had only elicited shrugs and sideways glances between them.) Soon, I had several Hispanic people around me, explaining what bus number to get on and such in Spanish, which I was able to translate well enough to get on the right bus, going the right way, after that. So, this, is not the part, of that day, that contributed to me deciding to quit this job, and go back to Omaha. This was actually one of the best parts, of what would become a very bad and very long day, for me. The trouble started back in Kendall.
It can be intimidating, trying to get around a huge metropolitan area, like Miami, all by yourself; especially, when you are not from there, or familiar with it. I was very isolated, as a nanny, and did not get out of the house, that I worked in, much, to be able to really 'get the lay of the land'. So, I realized pretty quickly that I was lost, after I got back to the Kendall area, and Susan told me to walk back to the house from the bus stop, now. As I said before, there were not any cell phones, back then. Just landlines; and pay phones. I had called her on a pay phone, to let her know that I was back, at the closest bus stop, and needed her to come pick me up, from there, as we had previously planned that she would do! However, now she flatly stated, to me, that it was too hot, and that she did not feel like coming outside, in the heat (although she had an air conditioned SUV, to drive), to do that; so, I would simply have to walk back, from there. Susan knew full well that it was much farther than any reasonable walking distance. Now, she wasn't willing to come out in those tropical temperatures to get me, as she had agreed to do this very morning before I left the house, but she apparently had no problem at all leaving me to walk to the house from there in that very same heat and humidity she was avoiding herself. While she would have only had to walk from the house to the air conditioned SUV and drive for just a few minutes, I was now left, by her, to walk, for miles, and for hours, because, I ended up lost. The Kendall area of Miami was not laid out in some squared, grid, pattern, of streets, so although I tried to remember the way, to the house, once I had, finally, walked to, what I thought was, the residential area that it was a part of, I did not recognize anything along the way, anymore, and felt like I was just going around in circles. After a couple of hours of this, with the heat from the sun even more intense as it radiated off the paved roads, that I was walking alongside of, onto my body, I felt really drained, and weak. Seeing a church ahead, that I had never seen, before, I went in, to ask if I could get a drink of water, and whether they could give me directions to the address of the house. Someone from the church gave me a ride to the house and dropped me off, there. But, even better than this, much-needed, ride, I connected with a young family there, that took me under their wing, befriending me, and inviting me to go on an outing with them, to snorkel in Key Largo, on my next day off, which we all really enjoyed! I am a Romans 8:28 girl!
But, Susan, on the other hand, left me feeling frustrated, and demoralized. Now, after her self-centered indifference had also led to my getting needlessly lost, for hours, with bad blisters on both feet to remind me of that, I was feeling really angry toward her, too. She must have been wondering where I was, when I never showed up back at the house, after a certain amount of time, that day she left me stranded, at the bus stop. As it turned out, I was nowhere near their house, when I saw that church and went in there to ask for directions. I might have continued being hopelessly lost, even until it was dark outside, had I not gotten their help. When I finally arrived, back at the house, after the people from the church so kindly gave me a ride, the rest of the way, Susan was at the front door, holding it open, for me to enter. My jaw was set, tight, from my anger, at her, as I went on inside, and I held my tongue, even though all the negative emotions, that I had, toward this woman, were screaming, within me, to be expressed! I didn't decide, not to let loose on her, that day, just because she was my employer. That relationship, between us, was so tenuous by now that it was hanging by a thread anyway. I kept my mouth firmly shut and went right past her into my room, without one single word to her, because all 3 boys were standing there with her at the front door when I got back, and I wouldn't want them to ever hear the kinds of things that I might have said to their mother, that day, had I indulged myself. She never said a word about it either, including not apologizing to me for the situation that she had placed me in that day, when she refused to come pick me up, after I had left, the house, for my day off, believing that she would. Without that assurance from her, about that, I wouldn't have gone; precisely because of the situation, that happened to me, when she didn't.
Things finally came to a head, with her, though, when I spent 6 hours, straight, one day, from early morning until after noon, deep cleaning the bathrooms, as well as other chores I did, to keep their house so clean, without having anything at all to eat, that day. I did those tasks by sheer willpower, because, my body did not have the fuel, that it needed, to do all that work. I tried not to eat anything at all unless I finally felt that I had to, because I was weary of getting admonished by Susan for eating the food, in that house. I had gotten good at finding things I felt she wouldn't possibly want, for herself, but that was not alot, of nourishment for my body. On this particular day, she was in her bedroom, which was a real relief to me as I went in the kitchen, and feeling physically shaky, from hunger, I took two crusts (the end pieces of a loaf of bread) that I had saved, for me, to eat, and made myself a peanut butter sandwich. It was the most nutrition that I could give myself, in the hopefully-most-unnoticeable way possible. I stood holding it over the kitchen sink so that I wouldn't drop crumbs on the floor and was just about to take my first bite of food that entire day when Susan suddenly appeared, asking me in a very demanding voice where I had gotten that food and telling me that peanut butter was expensive. Suddenly, I just snapped. I finally had enough, of this 'Jewish American Princess', treating me like 'Cinderella' in this house, leaving me, literally, scrounging for crumbs. I didn't answer her, even one word, about where I got the peanut butter sandwich made with the two crusts of bread. I simply let go, of the sandwich, I hadn't even taken one bite out of, dropping it, into the sink, and I went to my room, packed up my things, and called the nanny agency to come get me; which they did. I was DONE, with working for Susan. She would never change. She wouldn't even want to, and, worse, ever see the need to. I stayed about another week in Miami with the Christian couple I had become friends with but they lived in a small apartment and had no room or need to keep me as their own nanny. So, I returned to Omaha. Was God still, leading me, back there, for the unfolding of my destiny? I had no idea! I simply knew that Omaha had become home to me, although I was originally born and raised in North Carolina, and HOME seemed like a REALLY GOOD PLACE to be now, while I pondered what direction I should go in, with my life, for the next chapter, of it. I was just not at all sure what to do, next.
* "And one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. 'Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?' And he said to him, 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.'" - Matthew 22:35 - 40
I had not worked as a Go Go dancer at the Razzle Dazzle for very long, after my employment at the hospital, so I still had some reasonably fresh references, written for me from the nurses that I had worked with there, which highly recommended me as being a wonderful caregiver. I had begun applying to be a live-in nanny, after I was fired, from the Razzle Dazzle, which was something that had never happened to me, before, and had really shaken me up. I decided to revert back to my caregiver skill set, which was well-documented, and highly prized, since my proficiency as a nightclub dancer remained rough and unrefined and the bar environment was fairly incomprehensible to me. I had given up thinking about the strange-seeming way that the circumstances had conspired to lead me back to living in Omaha, after my discharge from the Air Force base, in this area, when I had no intention of ever living here, again, after that. I was feeling like I really needed to find another direction, for my life, where, what I had to offer, as a human being, and as an employee, would really be appreciated, and valued, again, like it had been, by both my co-workers and the patients that I cared for, when I worked in nursing at the hospital as a CNA. But, because I felt so burned out emotionally, from the intensity of all that I had to deal with, and try to adjust to, especially those last several years, of my life, I wanted a real change of scenery, as well. There were suddenly several domestic employment agencies running ads in the newspaper. Live-in nanny employment was becoming a booming business, around this time, and these agencies were primarily trying to find girls from the Midwest, to do these jobs. Part of the reason for that was that there was a strong stereotype that Midwestern women were more conservative, in their values and behaviors. Families felt that the girls from the coasts, where they were also largely located themselves, would not be as willing to do the work, required in these jobs, due to their, generally, being perceived as more aspirational and sophisticated. These parents had idealizations of the nanny they were looking for, which were equally divided between two distinct possibilities. They either wanted a wholesome, grounded, hardworking, farm-raised Midwestern girl or they would literally--- and with a seriously straight face!--- demand nothing less than the fictional and magical "Mary Poppins". Even both in one! On the flip side of the employer-employee equation they gave little if any introspective thought to how their own character, values, and personality would have a direct effect on the outcome.
Although I was now in my late twenties and most of the nannies being hired were in their early twenties, that was looked upon favorably, as my having life experience, plus, my proven ability to handle responsibility for the direct care of others. I had also been a homemaker when I was married, so I had those domestic skills, as well. It was a bit trickier trying to put forth that I had childcare experience, from newborn to toddler, when that direct care was for my own son, Jay, before I transferred his custody, to his father and stepmother. This was very valid and relevant childcare experience but the circumstance could certainly be construed in such a way as to be potentially off-putting to people. Especially, as far as the emotional reaction to that, by families seeking childcare for their own children. While I initially felt some anxiety and apprehension as I applied and interviewed for nanny jobs, it turned out not to be an obstacle to overcome, at all. My forthright explanation, that I was divorced from his father, had originally had full custody, of my son, but had ideally wanted for him to be raised in a two-parent home, was something that even the divorced parents that I would work for as a nanny grasped as the ultimate desirability. Aside from caring for my own son I had only had some previous babysitting jobs when I was a teenager, back in high school. I had never planned on having any children of my own because I was deeply concerned about my family's dysfunction tainting my own child's life just as it had mine, by either their presence in my child's life, or my somehow passing some of that along to my own child, from not knowing how to do any better, since that was the familial role modeling that I had been exposed to, and raised in, myself. While I didn't shun or dislike children by any means, my intention, to not have any myself, made them rather peripheral people in my world. I was an excellent caregiver for the adults I had taken care of, when I was a Nursing Assistant. My son, Jay, had been a very healthy, and happy, child, while he was with me, and in my care. So, I was certainly quite capable of giving conscientious, and concerned, care as a nanny, too.
I was hired, through a nanny agency in Coconut Grove, Florida, to work for a family that had 3 boys, ages 5 and under, with another baby boy on the way, very soon. So, it certainly seemed that they needed a nanny. There's a large Jewish population in Miami and this family was also Jewish. The husband, David, owned a small women's clothing shop and Susan was a stay-at-home mother--- apparently fulfilling her duties as wife to him by being a baby-making machine to give him heirs. (I say that based on something she said to me about that, while I worked for them.) They lived in the Kendall area of Miami in what appeared to be a fairly standard middle-class home. There was nothing fancy or upscale, about the appearance of the place. It looked like suburbia, in many places, in the U.S., only having palm trees in the yard made it appear a bit more exotic, to me. I was hired after an over-the-phone interviewing process with, both, the agency and the family, so I was going into this situation sight unseen. Wanting to see some of the country along the way, I opted to travel by bus from Omaha to Miami instead of flying. The family paid the fare for my transportation there, so that was also cheaper for them. Although it was very interesting, traveling through alot of places on the way there, it was also very tiring. I believe I was on buses for at least a couple of days, not really being able to rest, or sleep well, at all, so when I arrived in Miami I felt extremely physically exhausted and emotionally drained. It was not the ideal way to start a new job, but it also was only going to go downhill, from there. I was about to find out what a superficial snob Susan was. Susan was also a classic narcissist. Those are the kinds of traits and behaviors that turn me off completely! As an empath**, even when I do not want to care about others, anymore, I still do. When I learned from the other Go Go dancers at the Razzle Dazzle to say, "I don't give a fuck", the most I could mean by saying that was that "I WISH that I couldn't give a fuck". While I am capable of distancing myself from people who are destructive, toward me or others, I hate their poor choices, and bad behaviors, while still praying for their souls. I will not subject myself to such people, longer than I have to!
Susan was there with her mother to look me over when I arrived. I am sure I looked a little the worse for wear after my long trip. Then Susan wanted to see how I interacted with the children so she sent me outside onto the wooden deck in the backyard with these boys, right away, for an hour or so, as she sat in the air-conditioned den, watching us together. The littlest boy kept taking one shoe off, then holding it up, for me to put back on him, which I did, then taking it off again and having me put it back on him, about a dozen times in a row, which I wearily obliged him, as I tried to begin bonding with these kids while I felt dead on my feet, from my days long journey. There is an ongoing debate about whether boys are harder to raise than girls***, but I could already see, by the energy level of these little boys, Daniel, Andrew, and Eric, that I had my work cut out for me, trying to keep up with them. I had to hit the ground running in this job, from that very first moment that I had arrived in this house, without a chance to rest, catch my breath, or even sit and eat anything. Susan just stayed indoors, with her mother, watching the children and I outside, in that muggy tropical heat and humidity. Feeling like I was sinking fast, from fatigue, and my other, unmet, human needs, I asked if I could possibly take a nap due to traveling for days to get there, when I could not even lay down on the buses. I was too tired to even feel hungry, by then. Her mother advocated for me to get some rest, and I was shown to my room. It was huge, but only because it had actually once been their two-car garage, which they had, apparently, first turned into a party room, complete with the furnishings of a several-seat-bar, set up in the corner, and now made into the nanny room. There was a small bed set up for me, in the corner, but no other actual furniture to make it look like a proper bedroom for someone. At least I could set up my makeup mirror on the bar, and sit down on one of the bar stools, I told myself, as I tried, to make the best of it. The rest of that room just looked junky. It had things lying around, that they had stored away in there, out of view of the main part of the house. It was a dark and gloomy-feeling space; a depressing environment, for me, to live in. I wondered uneasily whether they didn't make it more homey as my bedroom so they could still use it to throw parties. I lay down for that nap, and woke up the next morning! Susan's mother had encouraged her to just let me sleep, when I did not wake up, later, that first evening, from my nap. I describe all of that, to say, that, from the beginning, Susan's instincts were for me to give my all and need nothing in return as far as having my basic human needs met. Had it not been for her mother being there, on the day I arrived, and knowing Susan, as I came to, while working for her, I would not have gotten a nap, or had any of my own needs either recognized or addressed. Susan was the center of the universe, to Susan. No one else seemed to matter.
The relationship between a family and their nanny employee is a very symbiotic one. It has to ultimately work for everyone, to work for anyone, and, when it doesn't work, it is the kids, who suffer the most. If they continually have to adjust to new nannies, one after another, and, after bonding with them these people then leave their lives, it can cause the children to develop an attachment disorder****. My being the nanny, for this family, was doomed to fail from the start, because Susan seemed oblivious to her impact on people, or else she was just really good at being indifferent to others around her. I was continually distressed, by seeing how she treated not only me but her own innocent, impressionable, little children, as well. She seemed to be a completely narcissistic person who behaved as if the world revolved around her. Such people as that turn me off, to begin with, so, living with one, and answering to one, as the nanny, was very disheartening, to me. Her husband, David, worked almost all the time, so he wasn't there the majority of the time, to see how things, really, were, when he was absent. He was the sole breadwinner, for this young and continually growing family. The little that I saw of him, in those 6 weeks or so that I lived there, in their home, he had seemed to be a nice enough guy. After I returned to Omaha, when this job didn't work out, for me, I was describing Susan to someone, and they said, to me, "You were obviously working for a J.A.P.!" Never having heard this term, before, I was confused by that, and clarified to this person that this woman, who had made my life so intolerable in Miami, was definitely not Japanese! They explained, that "J.A.P." stood for "Jewish American Princess" which was, stereotypically, considered to be a Jewish female who was spoiled, selfish, and stuck up. That was Susan! Although, sometimes, she did seem to be generous and supportive. According to her, though, there had to be some payoff for her in that.
Susan appraised my appearance, openly, to my face, in an unapologetically forthright manner, when I came to work for her. She sent me with her charge card, to her own hairstylist, to get a haircut that cost 10 times what the same style cost me at a walk-in hair salon, back in Omaha. The only difference was that this haircut had been done at a salon that had a fancy name and normally catered to (the ego of) people who were full of themselves, and who told themselves they must be getting 'the best', because they were paying outrageously inflated prices for it. It was a simple, basic, style, though! Next, she took me to an eye doctor because she didn't like that I wore eyeglasses, and wanted me to get contacts instead. I was initially very resistant to having those foreign objects placed into my eyes. I felt fine about myself just wearing glasses. Susan said that she would not even be seen in a grocery store with me, though, until I looked more fashionable, because I was her nanny, now, and primarily reflected on her. I assure you, that I was not unkempt, dirty, homely, or disfigured, as a human being, though she insisted on having this makeover done. I was neat, clean, and conservatively dressed. Susan simply saw everyone, and everything, around her, in her world (and it was ALL, ALWAYS, HER WORLD), as being a direct reflection on her. (That, is another narcissistic trait, by the way.) The growing popularity, and sudden proliferation, of having a nanny was seen, by these aspirational young families, as being another status symbol they could show off to others they wished to impress. She, and her friends, women whose values and lifestyle were similar, to hers, all had nannies, and she wanted hers to be attractive! She once allowed me to attend a dinner party, that they had, at their home, although not exactly as a guest. Susan simply wanted me to be seen, and known, as the family's domestic help. When I came out of my room, while I was getting ready, for that evening, to ask her something, before any of the guests got there, I had just taken the curlers out of my hair, but I had not yet brushed it out. As soon as she saw me, she raised her voice, at me, saying, with a panicked look, on her face, "NO! NO! NO! You are not coming out of your room LOOKING like THAT!" It surprised me, that she clearly didn't comprehend, that it was not styled yet; only curled. Her mother intervened, however, who was the voice of reason, with Susan and, as that, was someone for whom I was always grateful, saying to Susan, "You can SEE that she simply hasn't brushed it out, yet! She will do that before your guests arrive!"
While Susan was highly concerned, with the appearance, of my external body, she was not at all concerned about the health and wellbeing of my internal body. Her neglecting to even offer me something to eat the day I arrived in Miami to work for her, was not just a rather inhumane oversight, on her part, after I had just spent 2 or 3 days straight riding on buses, to come from Omaha to work for her. From the start, she made it seem as if I were eating too much of "her" food, and, again, since it was ALL "her" food, that didn't really leave anything for me to eat, in this house! I was active and energetic, which I needed to be in order to keep up with all those hyperactive little boys of hers; and having a high metabolism, I did need to eat enough simply to maintain my weight. But, at 5'9" and 128 pounds I wasn't obese, or 'eating her out of house and home', by any means. In fact, I was actually losing weight there, that I didn't need to lose, because Susan, continually, berated me, if I ate anything at all! I could not imagine how I was supposed to stay healthy, and be strong and energetic enough to care for all her kids, and do all the housework, for her, as well, when I was not even allowed by her to fuel my body with a minimum of basic nutrition. She was, constantly, accusing me of taking things from the pantry and eating them, myself. I was reduced to eating mere morsels, that I could find, which didn't seem to be anything that she would want, or miss, herself, just to try to survive it. I was never clear, on what she actually thought that I was supposed to eat, there! I was never offered any food, at all, by her, directly. Honestly, it was as if this woman thought that I was nothing, but a machine, that ran on autopilot, rather than an actual human being like herself, that needed to have real food, to eat, on a daily basis! Many days, despite how busy the demands of this job kept me, I simply chose to go hungry, when I could not find anything in the house that I could eat that she wouldn't later complain that she had wanted for herself, rather than have to listen to her scolding me again as she searched the kitchen for any foods that she felt were missing. While I understood that she was pregnant, and therefore was 'eating for two', she didn't seem able to acknowledge the reality of the fact that I ALSO NEEDED TO EAT. Even if only for one!
Apparently, from what she had told me, David had her on a household budget which included the expenses of her having a nanny, in the house. She was determined to cut corners, where she could, though, which I experienced as usually being at my expense. The room and board are figured in to what a live-in nanny gets paid so the money itself is often not alot, especially for the number of hours worked, and all the responsibilities, of the job. I believe I was making $100.00 a week, then, but it might have even been $75.00, and I had one day off, each week. While Susan did not directly complain to me about what she was paying me, since the nanny agencies let these families know what the acceptable, minimum, 'going rate' is, and expect at least that much money to be paid, to those nannies, they place in the homes, she did ask me, several of the weeks I was there, if she could have some of the money she had paid me back because she complained that her budget for the household expenses was too tight. I refused, to do that. Every one of the families that I worked for as a nanny, including this one, paid cash 'under the table', so to speak, as it is, thereby forcing me as the nanny to claim the income as self-employment and pay the taxes on it, myself, as well. It was a very tacky request, to begin with, by her, but I knew without a doubt that I had more than earned what she was paying me, and I also knew her, well enough, based on her actions, which revealed her character, that if I ever even 'loaned' it back, to her, I would most certainly never see that money again. I believe that is why she was on me so much, about any groceries that I ate while I was there, although she was also supposed to provide at least adequate food, for me (which she didn't), as a very important, and much-needed, part, of the room and board aspect, of my nanny compensation. She was clearly trying to pinch pennies, where she thought she could, which was basically by 'taking food out of my mouth'. Or, rather, preventing me, from getting food, she had to pay for!
The 3 children, which were already born, for me to care for, were pre-school ages, 5, 4, and 2. They were just typical, boisterous, boys; always into something, rarely ever still or quiet, often competing with one another to have my full attention. The only time they weren't like this, was on Saturday mornings, when they sat in front of the TV, watching cartoons. The 2 bigger boys were dropped off at the Jewish synagogue that their family belonged to, by their father, on his way to work, weekday mornings, for some children's activities, though, thankfully, which gave me some time to be able to focus on getting all the chores done around the house. I was very conscientious, and thorough, with the house cleaning, so when Susan told me to give special attention to cleaning the livingroom, a couple of days before her dinner party, I dusted the top of the bookshelves, in there, also, which had apparently not been done for a very long time, if ever. However, rather than appreciating that I had done a complete cleaning of the room, she complained to me, that I had raised too much dust, and that she was concerned the air would still smell dusty, when the day of her party came. I did not think that was possible, since I had deep-cleaned that room 48 hours before the event. She was not a person to be pleased, with my efforts, or show any appreciation for anything. If Susan had something to say about either my appearance or how I did my job it was always a criticism. I knew that I gave it my best but there was never any pleasing a chronic complainer, like her. She spent those hours, the boys were out of the house, sitting on the sofa in the den talking to her friends on the phone, if she didn't go out to a salon appointment or some such thing. One day, she returned home from a hair appointment after getting a perm in her hair. The curl didn't last, and had fallen out in the Miami heat and humidity by the time she got home. There weren't any cell phones back then. Just landline telephones. So as soon as she came in the house she called to complain to her hairdresser about the perm not setting in her hair, although she acknowledged that her being pregnant, and the hormonal changes in her body, due to that, likely had something to do with this outcome. She was still upset with them though because they had not found some way to make it work, on her hair. (There is an ongoing debate about whether it is even safe, to get a perm during pregnancy, due to the chemicals used that sit on the scalp for quite a while, with some absorption of those substances into the body.) After that, she called a couple of her girl friends, to complain. These women all had nothing better to do, apparently, than talk with one another for an hour or more on these calls, with Susan actually talking to one for awhile while putting the other one on Call Waiting (and as they actually sat and waited), then talking to the other one for awhile, while the other of the three had been put on hold, on Call Waiting. I had never seen anything like that before. They seemed to have nothing better to do with the time, that was more important, for them. Sometimes, Susan's complaints to her friends were about her manicurist. Outward appearances, even her own, were what mattered the most, to Susan.
Only once did I ever see Susan attentively engage in a real conversation with one of the boys (the 5-year-old, Daniel), and that was on the night of her dinner party, when he got out of bed, and showed up in the kitchen, among her guests, who were mingling and milling around. She spoke to him for a few minutes while stroking his hair with her hand in an affectionate gesture that I had never seen her do, toward any, of the children, before; or, after. Then, she sent him back to bed. David was also home then, though, and in the room, as well. It was obvious that he was very proud, of his brood of boys, which may have been why Susan suddenly seemed to be so gentle, patient, and loving, toward Daniel. When David was not at home, Susan was much more easily and quickly frustrated by the boys, and was also not nearly as attentive, or affectionate, toward them. She would sit on the couch in the den while all the boys were right there, only a few feet away from her, at the most, and definitely within earshot, and say to me which one of the children she wanted, and would take with her, if she ever divorced David for whatever reason, and which boys she would leave behind, with him--- and good riddance! It made my blood run cold to see her do this as I wondered what the impact of it could possibly be on the developing psyche, and self-esteem, of these impressionable young children. I did not even want to know, why, she felt, and talked about, that she was contemplating divorcing David*****. I knew her to be someone that was so critical, of anyone, who wasn't hellbent, on keeping her happy, whatever that took, at whatever moment; which she always wanted, from everyone, around her. Even at their own expense! Perhaps David had also failed to meet her demands, in some way, in their relationship. The days that she would carry on this way about which boys she would leave behind, in a divorce, with the boys sitting right there, hearing her, were some of the worst ones, for me, there. I had never been a nanny, before. I did not know, what I could, or should, do, if anything, about this situation! She was, my employer, after all. I knew for myself that keeping Susan satisfied was such an impossible task due to her spoiled and demanding attitude. I hated hearing her say those things, in front of the children, though.
Daniel and Andrew would often come home from the summer program at the synagogue both excitedly rushing in with their handmade craft creations from that day. These were the type of art projects that children are often shown how to make by gluing macaroni and such things to paper plates to make some type of picture out of all that. One day the boys brought home the paper plate plaques, they had made, to give to Susan. I could see their teacher had told them these were going to be something special, for their mother, to show appreciation and love, for the mothers of the kids in this craft class, because they had scrawled something in crayon on their preschool-age artwork to this effect. They came running into the house and up to Susan, who was sitting on the couch, engrossed in one of those long phone calls with her girl friends. Both boys were trying their best, to get her attention, to give her the gifts. As they each held a 'love gift', from them, out to her, she finally turned, to look at the two boys, with an expression full of annoyance. As she asked her friends to hang on, for a moment, the boys barely got the words "LOOK!" "I MADE THIS FOR YOU!" out of their mouths before Susan snapped at them impatiently, saying, "GET THOSE NASTY-LOOKING THINGS OUT OF MY FACE, AND, OUT OF MY HOUSE! GO PUT THEM IN THE TRASHCAN, RIGHT NOW!" along with a dismissive wave of her hand, in their faces, to shoo them away from her. I was so sad, for these children, and so horrified, by her. To me, the very saddest part, of all, of that, was the fact that the boys seemed so used to this type of behavior from their mother, that after just a momentary look of disappointment flashed across their faces they simply took their 'love gifts' over to the kitchen trashcan, and threw them away, as they were told to, by her. Susan, was teaching them, what was valuable, and not valuable, at all, in the world, based on her perception, that those things which were extremely superficial mattered more than a paper plate, with macaroni glued on it, crookedly, and your young child's handwriting saying that they love you. I know of many other mothers who have saved such things, from their kids, wrapped, carefully, in tissue paper, and would never throw them out for any reason. Some have even run back into a burning building to get those childhood creations out to save them! It is obviously true that 'One man's trash is another man's treasure', as the adage says. I still have things that Jay wrote, growing up, that his stepmother sent, to me, written in his childish scribble. Those things, touch me to the core, of my heart. They truly are treasures to me. Those and the few photographs that I have of him.
While I was there I did get to go to the Miami zoo one day, on my day off. I also went to one of the malls, there, which featured extremely expensive, upscale stores. Susan also arranged for me to spend a day off at South Beach, one time, instructing me, how to treat the cabana boys, which I would encounter there, for the first time in my life. Miami was an interesting and exotic place! Those were about the only outings that I got to go on while I was working for this family, as their nanny, when I was able to venture out alone on my days off, into the city itself. Where the family lived, in the suburbs, wasn't directly connected to the public transit system. It wasn't close enough, for me to access it, at all, unless Susan was willing to go out into the hot Miami summer to drive me over to what was the nearest point for me to do that; which was well past walking distance, from their house. Kendall was filled with endless, confusing, winding streets full of houses that all looked fairly similar in style where families lived with their kids, and SUV. There was simply no accessible public transportation coming anywhere near the house, that I worked in as a nanny, making it very isolating, for me, since I had no vehicle there for my own personal use. That meant that I had to depend on Susan, coming through, for me, as she had promised when I interviewed for the job, by at least driving me in her SUV to a bus stop where I could connect with the transit system, there. Most of the time, she told me that she just didn't feel like going outside, because it was so hot; and, that was that. So, sometimes, I sat outside in the yard of their house just to get away by myself on my day off, painting watercolors of the beautiful palm trees, which captivated me since they were so exotic-looking. However, I could not really get away by myself that way. Since I was still hanging around the house, on my day off, the boys would usually do all that they could to get my attention even though their parents would repeatedly ask them to leave me alone, for a little while. It was not exactly like having a real break from being at work for me. One of the trickiest parts of being a live-in nanny comes from the fact that you live, where you work, and you work, where you live. The boundaries get blurred, by someone or other involved in the situation, and suddenly you find yourself working on your day off in some capacity when you should not have to, et cetera. Even just socializing with family members, on your day off, especially, with the children, can end up feeling like you are working, which is not conducive to feeling like you actually had any time off, to yourself, to rest, relax, and do something for yourself, for a change, to recharge your own soul, for a while.
On one of my days off, things began to unravel so completely for me, in working for this family, that it became 'the beginning of the end', of my being their nanny. However, the only one that I would blame for that was Susan. But, first, I had a little adventure, in the middle of what would become a very long day, for me. David helpfully drove me farther into the city as he was going in to work; so I got to see the women's dress shop that he had, there, as well. He was, always, a very nice man, including to me. He was just not home, very much, at all, since he worked so much, to see some of what Susan put me, and their kids, through, because of her spoiled self-centeredness. He told me how to take the buses back to the closest bus stop to their house in Kendall, which, was still nowhere near, being within walking distance, of the house; so, Susan was to pick me up, when I got that far, which was only about a 5 minute drive from their house by car. I thought, that I got on the right bus, when I was trying to get back, only I ended up in a colorful, run-down-looking, urban neighborhood, that I knew, could not have me heading in the right direction. When I asked the bus driver about it, he suggested I get off that bus, there, and get on a different one, going the other way, that should be the one, that I needed. As I stepped off that bus, and it drove away, out of sight, leaving me there at the corner bus stop, it became immediately apparent that I was the 'gringa'. Everyone, in the area, stopped, and stared at me, curiously, which was my first clue, that I was somewhere, that nobody, including me, expected me to be! I was the only Caucasian anywhere around there, as far as the eye could see. Then, I noticed, that none of the shop signs, or anything else that I saw, there, was in English. It was all, only Spanish! I have never been to any foreign country in my life, but this situation was the closest that I have ever come to what that would actually feel like to me, even though this was in Miami, Florida, U.S.A.! I was never more grateful in all of my life, that I had taken 3 years of Spanish, in high school, as when I was able to speak to a couple of people standing nearby in the only language they spoke, explaining where I was trying to go, by bus. (My initial attempts to get some help from them, while speaking in English, had only elicited shrugs and sideways glances between them.) Soon, I had several Hispanic people around me, explaining what bus number to get on and such in Spanish, which I was able to translate well enough to get on the right bus, going the right way, after that. So, this, is not the part, of that day, that contributed to me deciding to quit this job, and go back to Omaha. This was actually one of the best parts, of what would become a very bad and very long day, for me. The trouble started back in Kendall.
It can be intimidating, trying to get around a huge metropolitan area, like Miami, all by yourself; especially, when you are not from there, or familiar with it. I was very isolated, as a nanny, and did not get out of the house, that I worked in, much, to be able to really 'get the lay of the land'. So, I realized pretty quickly that I was lost, after I got back to the Kendall area, and Susan told me to walk back to the house from the bus stop, now. As I said before, there were not any cell phones, back then. Just landlines; and pay phones. I had called her on a pay phone, to let her know that I was back, at the closest bus stop, and needed her to come pick me up, from there, as we had previously planned that she would do! However, now she flatly stated, to me, that it was too hot, and that she did not feel like coming outside, in the heat (although she had an air conditioned SUV, to drive), to do that; so, I would simply have to walk back, from there. Susan knew full well that it was much farther than any reasonable walking distance. Now, she wasn't willing to come out in those tropical temperatures to get me, as she had agreed to do this very morning before I left the house, but she apparently had no problem at all leaving me to walk to the house from there in that very same heat and humidity she was avoiding herself. While she would have only had to walk from the house to the air conditioned SUV and drive for just a few minutes, I was now left, by her, to walk, for miles, and for hours, because, I ended up lost. The Kendall area of Miami was not laid out in some squared, grid, pattern, of streets, so although I tried to remember the way, to the house, once I had, finally, walked to, what I thought was, the residential area that it was a part of, I did not recognize anything along the way, anymore, and felt like I was just going around in circles. After a couple of hours of this, with the heat from the sun even more intense as it radiated off the paved roads, that I was walking alongside of, onto my body, I felt really drained, and weak. Seeing a church ahead, that I had never seen, before, I went in, to ask if I could get a drink of water, and whether they could give me directions to the address of the house. Someone from the church gave me a ride to the house and dropped me off, there. But, even better than this, much-needed, ride, I connected with a young family there, that took me under their wing, befriending me, and inviting me to go on an outing with them, to snorkel in Key Largo, on my next day off, which we all really enjoyed! I am a Romans 8:28 girl!
But, Susan, on the other hand, left me feeling frustrated, and demoralized. Now, after her self-centered indifference had also led to my getting needlessly lost, for hours, with bad blisters on both feet to remind me of that, I was feeling really angry toward her, too. She must have been wondering where I was, when I never showed up back at the house, after a certain amount of time, that day she left me stranded, at the bus stop. As it turned out, I was nowhere near their house, when I saw that church and went in there to ask for directions. I might have continued being hopelessly lost, even until it was dark outside, had I not gotten their help. When I finally arrived, back at the house, after the people from the church so kindly gave me a ride, the rest of the way, Susan was at the front door, holding it open, for me to enter. My jaw was set, tight, from my anger, at her, as I went on inside, and I held my tongue, even though all the negative emotions, that I had, toward this woman, were screaming, within me, to be expressed! I didn't decide, not to let loose on her, that day, just because she was my employer. That relationship, between us, was so tenuous by now that it was hanging by a thread anyway. I kept my mouth firmly shut and went right past her into my room, without one single word to her, because all 3 boys were standing there with her at the front door when I got back, and I wouldn't want them to ever hear the kinds of things that I might have said to their mother, that day, had I indulged myself. She never said a word about it either, including not apologizing to me for the situation that she had placed me in that day, when she refused to come pick me up, after I had left, the house, for my day off, believing that she would. Without that assurance from her, about that, I wouldn't have gone; precisely because of the situation, that happened to me, when she didn't.
Things finally came to a head, with her, though, when I spent 6 hours, straight, one day, from early morning until after noon, deep cleaning the bathrooms, as well as other chores I did, to keep their house so clean, without having anything at all to eat, that day. I did those tasks by sheer willpower, because, my body did not have the fuel, that it needed, to do all that work. I tried not to eat anything at all unless I finally felt that I had to, because I was weary of getting admonished by Susan for eating the food, in that house. I had gotten good at finding things I felt she wouldn't possibly want, for herself, but that was not alot, of nourishment for my body. On this particular day, she was in her bedroom, which was a real relief to me as I went in the kitchen, and feeling physically shaky, from hunger, I took two crusts (the end pieces of a loaf of bread) that I had saved, for me, to eat, and made myself a peanut butter sandwich. It was the most nutrition that I could give myself, in the hopefully-most-unnoticeable way possible. I stood holding it over the kitchen sink so that I wouldn't drop crumbs on the floor and was just about to take my first bite of food that entire day when Susan suddenly appeared, asking me in a very demanding voice where I had gotten that food and telling me that peanut butter was expensive. Suddenly, I just snapped. I finally had enough, of this 'Jewish American Princess', treating me like 'Cinderella' in this house, leaving me, literally, scrounging for crumbs. I didn't answer her, even one word, about where I got the peanut butter sandwich made with the two crusts of bread. I simply let go, of the sandwich, I hadn't even taken one bite out of, dropping it, into the sink, and I went to my room, packed up my things, and called the nanny agency to come get me; which they did. I was DONE, with working for Susan. She would never change. She wouldn't even want to, and, worse, ever see the need to. I stayed about another week in Miami with the Christian couple I had become friends with but they lived in a small apartment and had no room or need to keep me as their own nanny. So, I returned to Omaha. Was God still, leading me, back there, for the unfolding of my destiny? I had no idea! I simply knew that Omaha had become home to me, although I was originally born and raised in North Carolina, and HOME seemed like a REALLY GOOD PLACE to be now, while I pondered what direction I should go in, with my life, for the next chapter, of it. I was just not at all sure what to do, next.
* "And one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. 'Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?' And he said to him, 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.'" - Matthew 22:35 - 40
** https://www.healthline.com/health/what-is-an-empath
*** http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/09/13/p.boys.vs.girls/index.html "On balance, the general consensus seems to be that boys are more of a handful early on . . . ."
**** "Attachment disorder is a broad term intended to describe disorders of mood, behavior, and social relationships arising from unavailability of normal socializing care and attention from primary care giving figures in early childhood." - Wikipedia
***** https://www.insider.com/things-you-shouldnt-do-in-front-of-nanny-2017-3
*** http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/09/13/p.boys.vs.girls/index.html "On balance, the general consensus seems to be that boys are more of a handful early on . . . ."
**** "Attachment disorder is a broad term intended to describe disorders of mood, behavior, and social relationships arising from unavailability of normal socializing care and attention from primary care giving figures in early childhood." - Wikipedia
***** https://www.insider.com/things-you-shouldnt-do-in-front-of-nanny-2017-3
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