Stripping

Matt scanned through the job listings, quickly left-swiping all of the scams ('earn thousands stuffing envelopes', 'essential oils cure all diseases--work only two hours a week') and to-good-to-be-true business offers ('own your own Amazon freight business for ten thousand dollars... make millions). One listing, though, was just believable. Still, he wasn't sure whether to bother showing it to his mom.

'Our strippers average over $500 a night.'

Could it be true? If it were true, would they have to be advertising for more talent? He'd have thought that $500 a night could have them lining up for blocks outside the strip club.

Still, "Hey mom, this is embarrassing but I have to ask you."

"Considering our circumstances, I don't think any of us can be embarrassed by anything."

"Well, there's this place in Wilmington that says its strippers earn $500 a night. So, ten nights a month would be the five thousand."

"Matt, look at me. I'm close to forty. Nobody is going to hire me to be a stripper."

"You're thirty-six. And you're better looking and in better shape than most girls in their twenties."

"I'll see what else I can find. In the meantime, what are your thoughts, Karen?"

"I guess I would think about it."

"Actually I wondered--"

"No!" Their mom put her foot down. "Karen, you are not going to get a stripper job. For one thing, you're not twenty-one and you have to be twenty-one to work in a bar. And second, I'd rather be homeless than let you strip."

"I was actually wondering what Karen thought about you doing it. But like I said, I'll keep looking."

"While I'm flattered you think I'm pretty enough to work in a business like that, I'd prefer you find a job that didn't involve dehumanizing and sexualizing people."

"No dehumanization and sexualization. Got it."

"Mister, this isn't a joke."

"Sorry. I'm doing the best I can. Most of these jobs are scams. And the ones that aren't are mostly minimum wage. No way we could afford the rent with those, even if we all went to work at--"

"You're both staying in school. The whole point of this ridiculous move was to let you go to a better school. We might as well move back to Michigan and live with my parents if we can't stay here."

Oh, no. His mom's father was a minister in some ultra-conservative church that banned dancing, rock music, and any contact between males and females outside of marriage (and even in marriage looked at it with negative eyes). No way did he want to move into that environment.

"I'll see what I can find," he repeated.