Dolly
The thing with working in the adult industry, is that you don’t just have one job description… you are also an amateur psychologist, a financial advisor, a relationship counsellor… the list goes on. And in turn I look to the people I meet at work for a wide range of advice, anecdotes and inspiration that I wouldn’t come into contact with otherwise.
Work, luckily for me, is not merely a source of income. Where I am able to provide a sympathetic ear to a punter complaining about the mess their teenage son left in the kitchen that morning, I get, almost by form of a trade, advice on the car I’m looking to buy by a licensed mechanic. A strange currency exists in the fringes of sex industry, one you won’t find anywhere else.
As a topless waitress, I arrive to work, and almost always for the majority of my shift I am the only woman in a room of men. Being particularly vulnerable, which is very very rarely dangerous (in this setting, in my experience, anyway), expands the topics of conversation you would usually cover as a waitress in a regular bar or pub, and draws out vulnerabilities in others. The ice is already broken, I’m in my underwear for fucks sake, and the toughest bikies and hardened drinkers let their guards down. Men have confessed all sorts of secrets to me at work. Like the guy who told me he cross-dresses but his wife doesn’t know, or the guy who has silver bullions buried in his backyard because he doesn’t believe in the banks.
While I listen also to a lot of bullshit; sexist, racist, xenophobic rubbish, there are a few real gems that jump out; a roofer lost his phone at a jelly wrestling competition in the city. The next day, his apprentice gets a call from the lost phone (it was the last number dialled) and they arrange for the roofer to pick the phone up from a hotel around the corner from where he lost it. He gets there, rings the bell, Seal answers the door (It’s true I’ve seen the photos). Or another man, a grave digger, who broke his back digging a grave, who says he’s never been happier. His injury, although it left him a paraplegic, saved his life from a drug addiction.
I miss working and I miss these bizarre and often hilarious encounters. I wonder what’s happened to the old blokes whose only human interaction is at the pub and hope they haven’t slipped through the cracks while everywhere is closed. I don’t think hospitality in Sydney will ever fully recover from this virus, but the topless waitresses must be reinstalled to your local as soon as possible! Who else is going to listen to you with a cheeky smile and a perky chest while you neck a VB?
– written by Sex Bomb Dolly

 

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