Regular readers of The Urban Eye should remember an excellent post I wrote titled, 'The Power of The Pole...'. It documented my exploits tryin' to get into a Vegas nightclub (Jet at the Mirage) and the little shadow economy goin' on between wannabe VIPs who want quick access into a club and the doormen who control the velvet rope. Just based on my contribution and the others I saw flowin' toward Jet's doorman, I estimated that ol boy cleared about a grand of tax free money that night.
Well, it appears that not only was ol Ty doin' some
According to Norm, 'Sources have been telling me that doormen at several clubs are clearing $8,000 to $10,000 a night before they share tips. So much cash is pouring in that some doormen are making $400,000 to $500,000 a year, several nightclub executives told me.'
Now don't you feel silly, y'all? You could have skipped high school *and* college, med school *and law school, slept in all day, played video games, never bothered to study for any test, decided not to sell [your drug of choice here] risking life and limb and demanding that you sleep with one eye open for John Law or the Big Payback. You could have met hundreds of hot women willin' to do whatever and only had to fill out a 1040 EZ form every year. Who knew that all that could be possible just by being a doorman at a Vegas nightclub?
Every year when I was helpin' mama fill out her 1040, I always wondered what the deal was with my other homeys who worked in cash based businesses. Did they always do the right thing and claim all of their income? Would you? If the temptation is there to cheat on your taxes when you have a job with verifiable income - it's got to be almost impossible not to with a gig with *no* verifiable income. $4K-$8K - a night! Cash.
I expect now that Gangster Sam has booked a high roller suite in Vegas and plans to stay for a while, nightclub doormen throughout the city are gettin' a whole lot less sleep than they used to. I also expect that today, a nation full of homeys turned away from hot nightclubs all up and down The Strip by haughty a$$ doormen - an indignity magnified if you're with your girl - are whistling all the way to work and givin' up a double chest tap to that great mythical equalizer called Karma.