Crappy Day

I knew I was going to have a bad morning when I was greeted at work with this answering machine message:

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP........This is a message for Audrey. I think I got a rash on my balls. Thank you - you dirty whore. You fucking slut! You make me sick....... BEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

I shoulda stayed home.

Anyways, in case you were wondering, my schedule has been totally turned upside down. That's why I haven't been writing as often as I used to. Since we hired Rose everyone decided it was time to take their vacations and divide up all the remaining shifts. So now I'm on a totally different routine and working shifts that were traditionally Audreys or Trinas.

It totally sucks.

First off, all my Regulars have been thrown off too. Guys have been showing up and Audrey is the first one to try to steal them... "Oh CJ's not here... why don't you let me take care of you?" At least Trina tells them the truth so they can reschedule with me. I've also been going through my phone list and trying to let everyone know my hours have changed. Blah.

Second, I'm now getting all of Audreys customers! Now you're probably thinking that it's only fair that I try to steal her customers. BUT - the difference is that I don't WANT any of her assholes. Remember that Audrey is kinda full-service (Semi-service? Quasi-service? Three Quarters - service?), so half these guys expect to finger me while the other half expect blow jobs. And ALL of them don't expect to pay full price!

So there I was... 2nd customer of the day, and it's one of Audreys Regulars. I had never had him before, so I reluctantly took him in session. Luckily he only wanted 30 minutes. But as soon as I get him in the room, I get this shit...

"Audrey only charges me $50 for a topless."

Fuck. Why do they always start with me? Since he's Audrey's Regular, I'm not supposed to turn him away, but I don't have to take his shit. Since I'm such a caring, giving person, I compromise. "That's fine. But you get a choice, either topless and no happy ending, or happy ending and keep the sweatshirt."

"You can't do that! I paid for that handjob!"

I looked at him calmly. I've heard this argument a hundred times before. "No, you didn't pay for a handjob - that would be prostitution. You paid for a massage. And it's up to me to do the end part, but only if I want to. And you know what? I don't want to." And with that I turned around and walked out of the room.

"I'll tell Audrey about this!" I heard behind me.

If I had a dollar for each time somebody said that to me, I'd be able to retire.

CJ