I Was a Strip Club DJ -- My Experience Rockin' the Pole

21 years after being given life's boarding pass, I decided that a masochistic career in the music and entertainment industry would be my chosen flavor of pain. I managed to catch a break and landed a part-time gig at a legendary rock station in Columbus, Ohio.

A problem that arose during this time was the fact that I was crackhead poor. To maintain my ever-expanding waistline, I would need supplemental income. I failed miserably at several different minimum-wage ventures, so I decided that Monday through Friday would be a good time to be a strip club DJ.

So I started calling strip clubs and finally scored an interview. When I entered the club, the dancers were super-friendly, until I explained to them that I was there to interview. I have never seen a group of topless women flee faster.

A tiny man with a fauxhawk materialized in the corner of the room. He said, "I'm Saber!" (Yes, that is the name he used to introduce himself.)

Continue reading to find out what happens in a strip club interview.

Interview Etiquette
He then asked the only two questions of the interview.

1. "Do you do coke?" This was a question that caught me off guard. My first reaction was to obviously say no, as it was a job interview. I then started thinking. It's a strip club ... a coke habit could be required. I told him no.

Reason for question: Cocaine has been known to cause some issues at strip clubs.

2. "Do you want to bang the strippers?" Another odd question! I told him about my girlfriend. She is hot and has no problem with my being less than blessed in the looks department.

Reason for question: DJs copulating with the strippers can cause jealousy issues amongst the stripper pack. This jealousy can lead to crazy naked stripper fights and basic anarchy. No joke! A staggering amount of strip club DJs get canned every year for deciding to partake in the forbidden fruit of the club.

Saber offered me the job and my new Frodo-like quest into stripper Mordor had begun.

The actual specifics of the job were extremely simple. Don't show up on hallucinogenic drugs. Keep the girls happy and don't let them walk all over you. That was pretty much it.

The strippers would pick a genre of music, say rock or rap, and I would choose what songs to play. Sometimes strippers would get maniacally pissed at me for playing a song they considered "theirs" for another girl. They would infiltrate the DJ booth and corner me. I would let them vent their frustration, and then say, "OUTTA THE BOOTH!"



A Few Important Lessons
While immersed in the seedy underbelly of the strip club scene, I did learn a few important lessons. First: More girls are always better. My boss didn't care at all what the girl looked like. I remember him hiring this one lady. She chose the stripper name "Rose." I am not exaggerating at all when I say that Rose looked exactly like mythological rock titan Geddy Lee from Rush! I'm going to hell for this, but when she would dance, sometimes I would play "Tom Sawyer" and laugh to myself in the booth.

Another important lesson was this: Never stop the music for anything. One particular evening, a club patron (who weighed about 130 pounds) had declared jihad on his liver and found himself talking drunken smack to a guy who looked like the WWE's Stone Cold Steve Austin and/or a Viking. At one point the giant bald man decided to see if his fist could go right through tiny drinker's face. It did. All I saw was the guy fall back, spit out teeth and hit his head on the ATM.

The Viking warlord made his escape in a white SUV, tiny drinker was rushed to the hospital, and I got yelled at for getting distracted and letting the song end. My manager told me that when people aren't distracted by music and nudity, they want to gather 'round the chaos. This ruins the sensual atmosphere.

Lying to Loved Ones
If you get the chance to be a strip club DJ, I highly recommend it. In fact, the only part about the job that wasn't fun was not being able to shout my new profession from the rooftops.

Despite the fact that I have achieved total nirvana in the ways of being a badass, I am still grandma's special boy. That lady rules! How could I tell my sweet innocent grandma about my new-found employment in an industry of depravity, debauchery and flesh? I had to lie to her.

Well, I didn't exactly lie. I simply told her I was DJ'ing at a club. I left out the strip part. For the rest of my tenure in the strip club scene, my grandma frequently asked me how things at the "discotheque" were going.