Monday, June 13, 2011

As she has planted, so does she harvest; such is the field of karma.

I love Karma. And this is not going to be a discussion about any of the girls I've danced with who used that name. No, this is about the Real Deal. Karma.

I consider Myself to be honest about a lot of things that some other dancers aren't honest about. If you accidentally tip Me a $50 instead of a $5, I will give it back to you. That's just how I am.

Once, a girl dropped 14 $100 bills on the floor at the IR2. I gave it all back to her. I got some flack for that from other dancers. They would have kept it! Not Me... if I had been the one to lose My cash, I'd be SO thankful for it's return. Likewise if I tipped a $50 by accident. Dark clubs don't help eye sight.

But anyways. A while back, several Mondays ago, was a case of Karma AND of the rare occasion that I won't hand back that big bill...

There was this 20something douche of a dude in the bar. He had been there most of the day, drinking. By late night he was a Royal Asshat. He was pissing off the dancers, the customers, the DJ, and Moi. My most beloved bartender, Aenea (AKA River) had to keep him away from Me, because I was ready to have a Ron Moment and choke his punk ass. So as Aenea was shooing him out the door, she told him that he HAD to tip Me for being a pain in My ass. So he did. He dug out a dollar and shoved it into the tip bucket. He then left. After Aenea wandered off, I peered in the jar and WHAMO! That was no dollar bill! It was a $100. Hell yes. Thank you, Karma! So when that asshat came BACK into the bar at the end of the night, I didn't say a Godsdamned word. Nope. No sir! Nada. Heh. And I haven't lost any sleep about it since.