job opportunity

On Saturday night, as normal, I went out to meet new people. I went to the usual places on Marnixstraat and met a few good people. At about 00:30 I decided to go and check out Pianobar, a piano bar in the restaurant area near Leidseplein. I was briefly there the week before but I wasn’t paying much attention to the bar.

I arrived and was immediately aware that this was not my demographic. My first impression was that Pianobar is a place for forty-year-old men and young golddiggers to meet. I have a rule that in every place I go I am not allowed to leave until I have had two drinks, so I got my first drink and found a free table to watch the people. I was only halfway through that beer when a man came and sat next to me and started to chat.

It turns out that this man is the owner of the “best” escort service in Amsterdam, a high-class outfit that charges €300 per hour and only employs blonde girls over six feet tall. He boasts that five of his girls are top fashion models, and his clientele includes record labels and wealthy businessmen. Apparently when someone enters a room with one of his girls, that person is the centre of attention. I have never spoken to someone in that industry before (although I was once asked to manage a brothel), and I don’t really know much about it, so I asked him. It was his favourite subject, and we talked about it for some time as he bought the drinks. He had four local tourist magazines in his pocket and he proudly showed me his ads.

The subject of his websites came up, and I was shocked to learn that someone in the adult industry does not have any websites. He was thinking about setting up a private (secure) site, but had no plans for a public website. I spent a while convincing him that he was crazy and outlined a plan to get him up-to-date. I gave him my business card (a Heineken coaster with my contact details) and told him to send me an email if he wanted any help.

I bought the next round, and he told me about a new agency he was starting, called “cowboys and angels”, to cater to female clients as well. Then he dropped the bomb, he wasn’t interested in websites at all. He was trying to recruit me! He wanted me to be a cowboy. I was surprised, to say the least. I had discounted this possibility early in the night. I told him that surely he couldn’t be serious, that I was not exactly escort material, but he did not agree and said that I was what he was looking for.

He spent the next hour or so trying to persuade me, trying to lure me with money and promises that all I had to do was go out to dinner with the ladies, if that was what I wanted. I was drunk, but not enough that my analytical side was turned off. I caught a small discrepancy with something he had said earlier, and I switched modes. It was basically the most stereotypical pimp recruiting story that you hear over and over. He starts out nice and promises that you don’t really have to do much, but then one day you find yourself with cocks in every orifice wondering how you got there. Not a place I want to be.

I got home after the bar shut and called my sister to tell her, certainly one of the more interesting nights I have had whilst here. Although I don’t want to do it, it is certainly flattering to be asked. And, you know, if I am unemployed, I will always have something to fall back on…