Tis with regret i end this blog, for now. I haven't updated this sorry thing for over four months now, and after now way over a year on the doors, recent events have ushered me in the direction of politely proclaiming..."f*&k this sh*t" It is over, the dream has ended. So after over a year of documented Doorwork, or Bouncing, from my initial giddy excitement, up until now, was it worth it?The past four months I've had a blast if you will, with my colleague neville, seriously good times. The bar is never overly busy, no trouble makers, we've only thrown out four or five people in the time of being there, I've learned a hell of a lot about humans, and especially the sticky underworld of my local town. There really has been nothing to document, well there has, I've just been increasingly tired and exhausted working days as well, no time. Even now i sneakily squeeze this typing session into my schedule simply because I've woken up early and thought to myself "Gordon Bennett mate, that old blog malarkey you affa do summink about that innit" So, here i is.
I did a stint at another place for a special one off event, it got hairy there i might add, i remember it well so can make it my last entry...
The bar is small this one, like a mouse box, despite having a fair bit of floor space, its kind of laid out like a large "L" so it's a bit squeezy. The enormous speakers are also so low, that the music feels like someone is rubbing a cheese grater against the thin membrane of your ear drum. It can actually be painful, or, this could be me being an old duffer.
My new last minute team were not the friendliest bunch, i had been plucked out of my usual comfort spot and stuck with them tonight. Someone was off i think. Sometimes this can be a good thing though, as it's very easy to get comfortable at a nice little joint. Then get comfortable, get smacked in nose. Understand boss?? So this was good for me...
I nodded toward the miserable sods, and was plonked inside at a back door, preventing smokers from coming back in through the back. They can leave that way, but not come back in the same door. Fair enough, stops random bods walking in off the street who haven't paid at the main entrance.
I knew a few people who were at the club, they stood speaking to me for most of the night so it wasn't too bad, once again this was in my town, a club I'd been to on many occasions so it was all good. So all's well, next thing i see a group of young black girls zip up the stairs to the toilets. Now i was handed no radio, no security procedure for this particular team, no nothing. I bumped through the crowd and darted up the stairs after them.
In the small hallway one end was the ladies bogs entrance, the other the dudes. In the middle, is the top of the stair way. I stood here between a group of about seven youts rowing, one side trying to swing for the other, they were in their early twenties. Some girl didn't know who the other girl was. This wasn't a general statement, i mean more along the lines of...
"That b*tch don't know who i am yeh? She don't know who i am, who she's f**kind wiv yeh? "
The other side to my left are trying to push toward their opponents on my right, and once again I'm sandwiched in the middle. I tend to see this as my general style. I get in the middle of the sh*t and try and stop it, speak everyone down. It has worked for me for over a year so. After protests not to throw one of the little girls out, and the other party heading back down stairs...i kept them separate, bear in mind i couldn't call for anyone at this time, I'm upstairs in the toilet area, if someone had have pushed me down and gone for the other side, i couldn't have done anything, no one came to my rescue either.
The girl much more chilled out, later came to me, took me aside and explained her actions and anger, it turned out, the other girl didn't actually know who she was. Apparently some silly old moo gave her an offensive glance at the hand dryer. And then after the said questioning "excuse me, does one know me?" it got ugly. I kept the girl and her mates in one section, if they refused to stay there, i would throw her out by the back of her neck like a Christmas day turkey. They behaved, no bastard wants to get lobbed out at the end of the day, this bar is far from free to get in. Still, worth noting i had no one to help me here, the rest of the door staff were out the front, chatting, chilling out, also the club was packed, i forgot to mention.
Later on in the night i had the honor of the pat downs, by now it was really filling, to the point of one in one out. It was a black night, the small sardine can of a club was host to loads of shiny sweaty black faces, and the incoming lot were looking right dodge, this was why we had to do the full pat down searches.
I remember seeing some six foot five fu**er, muscle head, dark as coal with tight cane rows on his head earlier in the night sulking about. Thinking to myself, if anyone kicks off tonight, please let it not be that enormous bastard.
It was that very same enormous bastard who kicked off...
I remember standing in the cloakroom section, and looking through the glass doors into the actual main dance floor to see his enormous back swinging at someone, i did my usual "fish hook" i pushed through the doors, and grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back, he didn't put up too much resistance, he knew the night was over, one of my colleagues who later turned out to be pretty safe, helped me drag the hefty lump out. Just as we got to the front door someone pushed their way IN, toward the black hulk. He apparently knew them and whop, gave them an almighty clout in the chops. The lanky mixed race lad went flat on his back nose split, a chorus of claret bursting forth from his hooter and actually clonked his skull on the pavement, i remember being particularly disturbed at his drop.
He got back up, beckoned the big guy to the street all the while don't forget this huge c**t was struggling with me and my colleague we got him out, but he wasn't gunning for us, he wanted who ever he knocked down. Outside he picked up one of the billboard signs for the club to throw, no no way, lets not be silly, i put a stop to that. He actually interestingly enough seemed quite reluctant to go for the guy who was beckoning him, i think the initial strike was a lucky thrown hit. Just because a lot of these guys are enormous, it don't mean they're fighters...
The police later arrived, larger black crowds gathered outside, we had to refuse to let people out by order of our manager because of the danger outside, not sure if this was kidnapping or something? Not too concerned as long as i gets my money lol (which i actually didn't not in full anyway - another story that)
I later got thanked the next day when i saw one of the door staff shopping for his groceries...
"thanks for helping out last night mate"
This was nice, although that is my job. I also remember the team being particularly short. Like munchkins. I'm not the tallest doorman, I'm 5'11 and they were all way shorter than me. But they did get stuck in with the action at the end of the night, so i can't really fault them although they let me deal with the crowd in the bogs on my own so i CAN fault them, and i WILL...he said to the king.
So my final review on door work. It kept my head above water financially, just enough to live barely, but in no way was i raking in the 18 and 20 pounds an hour, and other such wildly over generous figures that where dancing around in my head in the early days. The last half a year of my door work, longer actually, was based in my local town, so i will say this, doing this lark gives you a lot more recognition, mainly because I've now worked every seedy joint, cummy chaired club, and stinking sh*t pit in my town. Right up to the nice new bars n all that. So it's given me minor celebrity baby, oh yeeah.
It has been an interesting journey, as i sheath my sword into my proud leather casing, mop my brow and walk off into the distance. I found to be honest, most of the time if you don't talk to people like a pric* they stop acting like one, this is what i have found. I've never been directly swung for to my knowledge I've been clonked one though, a fair few times, elbowed, punched in ribs but its always been sneaky shots when im in the middle of a mass of fighting or rolling around on the floor scrapping. Bin thrown across a club as well.
Actually i did get hit once, but it wasn't hard, was kind of indirect, i dragged the bastard out with my boss. I don't need to stand there and get into a boxing match, don't get payed enough, and I'm not hard enough to scrap every plonker i come across f**k that, most of the time I'm on ten quid an hour, hardly worth it. Almost been bottled a few times, got involved in a mass scrap with Asians in one of my first nights on the doors. Helped my colleague Neville out when he got jumped by two former Asian doorman recently, i wasn't even working that night and got in the middle of it ugly that night. In fact did i ever document that? Not sure.
It's been interesting, it has but for the most part if you can handle yourself just in case (Krav Maga Fighting Lessons twice a week) then you're confident enough not to feel the need to have to box and smack up every idiot you come across. Chat to them like a mate, resolve it, be the bigger man and all that, and you get to walk home without a knife in your head, and with both of your eyeballs actually intact, that's how i've survived and i have wokred at a lot of rough clubs in my year, and I'm glad i did, I've done it you know? been a doorman, but all this, "been in the game for 37 years mate" I'm sorry? are you actually fking mad? nope... fucking sad.
I never planned to go over the three years of my license as soon as i found out you dont get the 18 and 20 pounds an hour i initially thought. So, in the end, was it all worth it? Hmmmm Yeah, it's fleshed me out as an individual, it's expierience and i reckon I'll be back doing it at some point in the future when the finances are squeezing my nuts. But due to pay disputes I'm no longer working at my regular, and think to myself let's see where else my life can go while I've got a chance to get out intact, no point in tempting fate...
Although i did get a text from my boss who i left, got it this very night "we need to talk mate"...
...so who knows.
Cheers for reading (I'll be back)
