It’s hard to think of a single day that went by where there wasn’t some kind of war stopping drama from within the walls of my new workplace. And lucky me got to play mediator about as much as I played the role of manager.
“That f**king c**t stole my dry biscuits. I can’t f**king work on an empty stomach but I can’t eat anything else cause I’ll f**king bloat!”
See what I mean when I say “war stopping”? These issues were catastrophic! And don’t even get me started on the girl who used another girl’s shampoo in the shower. F**k my life. As my love Kourtney Kardashian says, “Kim, there are people that are dying.”
But these tiny dramas would occur, be forgotten about, they’d make up and repeat the following week. But sometimes there are issues that remain, to this day, unresolved.
“Stealing” another girl’s client was about as low as low could get. Or so I quickly gathered.
Enter Gracie. Gracie was a gorgeous blonde 18-year-old with big tits and a fine lookin’ ass. She had started maybe two or three days after me so she’s still a “newbie” until the next girl comes along.
I worked Gracie’s first shift and she made absolute bucket loads. Now I dunno what was happening behind closed doors (I mean, like, I have a rough idea) but she was popular with EVERYONE (with a penis), which meant she tended to be UNPOPULAR in the girl’s room.
In walks probably the meanest person in the building, Kristie. Kristie was your typical sex worker. She was a street-smart lass who ticked off every cliche, like something out of a movie. She reeked of cigarettes constantly.
She slams down her purse full of condoms on the counter in front of me….
“Oi, can you check if my 2pm has cancelled? Otherwise he’s f**king late.”
I checked the booking and realised that was the one I had just changed. Kristie’s 2pm was now Gracie’s 2pm. Naturally, I had to be the bearer of bad news.
“He changed it, he’s in a booking with someone else,” I mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear me.
She did hear me. She stormed off like a kid who’s just been told Santa put them on the naughty list.
The timer was about to buzz to remind me to call Gracie’s room to let her know the booking was up. One ring, you got five minutes, two rings and it’s done. If I keep ringing and there’s no answer, I go Jackie Chan on your door to make sure you’re okay.
Gracie wasn’t down 10 minutes after the final call. I grabbed the cordless phone and raced upstairs to her room. I knocked, she answered and told me to quickly come in and to shut the door.
“Craig doesn’t want to go downstairs and run into Kristie…”
Oh for fu…..
“Okay, so what would you like me to do?” I asked, almost confused. “There is one exit, the door’s locked and I don’t have a key to it.”
Was I about to pull off some Macgyver type magic from a second-floor building?! You bet your sweet f**king ass I was.