On Friday, I got a call from one of the other waitresses at my club who told me a strange, convuluted story about the nightclub I have been working at for the past year. Apparently, the Mexican owners of the club have not been paying rent for the past couple of months, so the landloard swooped in, changed the locks and kicked everyone out. Meaning, just like that, the club has closed and my cushy money job is gone.
I should have seen it coming. My last two paychecks have bounced due to insufficient funds. They actually held the last one from us because there was no money. And they haven’t been reordering supplies.
The only reason I have loved working at nightclubs is the money is ridiculously good compared to the amount of work I actually do. Sure, I’ve had to deal with corrupt owners, bad hours, illegal activity and annoying customers, but overall, it has been worth it.
Soon, if the club doesn’t reopen, which I doubt it will, I have to embark on a journey to hunt down those unpaid paychecks. It could mean a serious man hunt since the owners have dissapeared back into their Mexican haven. Wish me luck…