Thursday, December 17, 2009
Well I was planning on talking about how my Xmas shopping is going, but instead I see that some of you out there are obsessed over this idea that I am somehow "lucky" to have this job.
"Lucky" is such an interesting word to use to describe erotic massage. It implies that luck is what gets us here. Is it luck that we get a lot of drug addicts walking through our doors looking for work? Is it luck that the college students blow outta here as soon as they graduate? I don't know, but that doesn't sound very lucky to me.
Or maybe you're thinking that I'm lucky I have a vagina, because it entitles me to a job where I can sit on my ass watching TV in between customers who shovel money into my purse. In that case, I would like to point out that my vagina has never been lucky enough to get me a job at the local plant - where decent-paying study jobs only seem to go to applicants with penises. Believe me - most of my friends and family have tried gettting work there, and a vagina is only lucky enough to get you a gig as a secretary.
And to correct another misconception, it is not "lucky" to watch TV all day. Let me tell ya - every fucking minute that I'm stuck in the lounge watching the clock tick, I am painfully aware that I'm not making any money. We have to cover 8 hour shifts, and that's 8 hours that could be spent with friends and family or ANYTHING more productive than watching TV. And it's even worse when those 8 hours are spent with some bitch that you can't stand.
You wanna know where luck figures into it? I guess that I'm "lucky" to have a cute face and large breasts on a small frame. That has definitely helped in getting new customers. But it's been my personality and massage skills that keep them coming back (no pun intended).
And I guess I would consider myself not so much lucky as fortunate that I have a job that can sometimes break a 6 figure salary. I'm sorry, but I just cannot bring myself to use the word "luck" to describe the hundreds and hundreds of handjobs that I had to do that particular year (Phew!).
Now all of you guys out there should consider yourself lucky that I'm an erotic massage therapist, or else you'd be reading "Confessions of a Grocery Store Bagger."
Today we ran out of plastic and I had to switch to paper. Forgot to double bag a gallon of milk and the bag ripped...
None of those stories have a happy ending.