As a physically large man with an even temper and a propensity to be around bars, I found myself well-suited to the role of bouncer. I was a natural, and enjoyed the work until the constant stream of idiots and reprobates that made up the patronage of my bar wore down my will to live. It was in a relatively small town and the only place that had anything remotely festive happening during the week. Our Ladies night happened every Tuesday, and it brought jackasses aplenty without fail. They would all behave in the same annoying way and pull the same lame-ass stunts and tricks. The same angry roid-monkeys would start fights and the same jailbait high-school seniors would try to get in with the same fake IDs every week set to the same “My Humps”-heavy soundtrack. The sheer repetition was enough to make me start to hate them all, so I had to get out of the game.
Clublife gives you the bouncer’s pov, sharing all the frustrations and trenchant commentary that can only open on the inside of the velvet rope. Check it out. This is how it is.