I Worked as a Bouncer – 4

As I worked more with the team, they came to accept me, even include me on some things. Jokes were explained in more detail. I found out ‘Squeaky Pete’ was the main boss, the head of the Security firm we worked for. He was called that because when he got stressed or became excited for any reason, his voice rose in pitch and he ‘squeaked’. For such a big guy, it could have been inappropriately amusing, so I had to watch myself when he was around. I couldn’t be giggling at his squeakiness if I wanted to keep the job, and to be honest, I enjoyed it.

Then Henri, the other partner, he always had his running shoes at the ready. I didn’t find out why that was for a while. The lads made hints at an oddly-situated cupboard being Henri’s too. Again, that became clear after a while.

We were called to a meeting one Wednesday afternoon. Those that worked ‘proper’ jobs in the daytime and couldn’t make it were to be filled in with the details later.
We had a security gig at another nightclub in a neighbouring town.
The team had been there for a similar gig the month before and a few tried winding me up about it. Comments that I was there as the baby-sitter etc again became clear when we were told what the gig entailed.

The previous month had been a private show, a newcomer to the pop music scene played for the teenyboppers in an intimate (small) venue and the kids there had gone mental.
Peter Andre’s debut tour in the UK had been received by rapturous crowds everywhere he went. The kids were wound-up to fever-pitch and let loose. The bouncers could do nothing more than link arms and hope they held fast, otherwise, Peter Andre’s tour – and probably his life – would come to an end under piles of rampaging, hormonal teenage girls.

The bouncers were used to beating up troublemakers and booting them out of the venue, but with the private gig, the organisers wanted nothing like that behaviour. The audience were all kids, between 13 and 15 years old.

Oh boy… kids.

It looked like the gig was going to pan out into a regular thing and someone decided they needed a female in the mix. That female would have to be me.

“Right Michelle, if anything kicks off, you can bet the kids will come to you if they need help,” Pete said once he’d told us what we were doing.

“Me? Why?”

“Well, because you’re a woman…” he said, a little perplexed at my question.

“Yeah? But why would they come to me?”

“I dunno? Instinct? A female usually presents a friendly face…?”

“A friendly face?” Dingo said, laughing. “Have you met Michelle?”

“Fuck off, twat!” I said, but I laughed too. “I don’t like kids. I only just cope with my own.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to put all that aside and act like you like them. We need to make sure we get this regular thing. Plus, you’ll get to meet up and coming stars,” he said.

“Do I look like I want to meet up and coming stars?” I said. “Unless you’re going to be doing the security for Monsters of Rock festival, I’m not that bothered.”

So, Sunday afternoon, we met at the pub to get ready for the ride across to Chesterfield, the next town.

Because parking would be at a premium, only two cars would be used if possible. I went in Lenny’s car because I know what Dingo drives like when he has an audience.
I didn’t realise Lenny believed he was James Hunt though.

The ride over was less than enjoyable. Dingo had a ‘hot hatch’ and though he showed off, he could at least drive reasonably well. Lenny, on the other hand, could not.
When Lenny tried to emulate Dingo along the back roads on the way to the venue, it took all my self-control to not demand he pull over and let me out. In those days, before mobile phones (cellphones) were so abundant, a long hike would have been in order to reach a public phone box.

I decided that if I couldn’t make other arrangements, I was phoning Trev to fetch me after the gig. Making a return journey with Lenny was out of the question, the damn fool almost killed us.
Dingo accelerated along one of the lanes and swung around a sharp, blind bend. Lenny powered after him, figuring if Dingo had made the turn, so could he.

Dingo managed to avoid the oncoming car with inches to spare. Lenny wasn’t quite so lucky. The other car had jammed his brakes on and avoided a collision. When Dingo passed, he started off again, only for Lenny’s car to come screeching around the corner too. Lenny saw the other car approaching, panicked, slammed his brakes on and skidded up a steep bank. We were fortunate the car didn’t roll. Lenny was fortunate I was too shocked to punch him.

“Slow down or you’ll be getting out and walking,” I told Lenny in a menacing growl.

“I’ll be walking?” he said, starting to laugh. “But it’s my car.” He turned to me and his grin fell from his face as he saw my glare.

“And yet, you’ll be walking,” I said with grim conviction.

He looked from me to concentrate on driving. The three in the back were in stunned silence. Not from my threatening statement, more from the effects of Lenny’s abysmal driving.

“Can you drive, Michelle?” he asked in a faked nonchalant voice.

“Yes, I can drive and I don’t think I’ve ever driven as bad as you do, ever.”

“Oh,” he said.

When we arrived and parked the car next to Dingo’s, Pete stood waiting for us all.

Another lad arrived too and instead of two cars, we had four. I didn’t say anything about the cramped conditions ten of us had endured. Three in the back of both cars – a ridiculous state of affairs when the passengers were all large, burly guys, except for me, of course!

Pete wasn’t staying so he didn’t think of offering a more comfortable ride in his car…

The last guy to arrive, Mono was a quiet but capable fella. Out of the whole team, next to Dingo, I would have trusted him most. Ex-forces, nothing much to say until something needed saying, he was more ‘Doorman’ than ‘Bouncer’. I asked if he was staying til the end and when he said he was, I asked if I could grab a lift back with him.

“Yeah, sure…” he said.

Inside the venue, it became obvious why the owners had been tempted to host the gig. The place was in dire need of renovation. The nightclub industry is a fickle one and unless you can keep up with changes, you’d get left behind and eventually, the gap becomes too wide to make up.

A gaggle of teenagers set up a screeching caterwaul as the door opened. It sounded like someone had opened up the doorway to hell. The kids thought their entertainment had arrived.

Oh boy. How long had they been there? They were getting bored and the band they were waiting for had at least another half an hour before they arrived. I could predict trouble – especially as some of the girls didn’t look like girls and the guys were already in ‘nightclub’ mode.

Luckily, Pete seemed to know what he was doing and he called for a meeting in one of the back rooms.

“Come on lads, you know the score,” he said. “They’re kids, for fuck’s sake, leave them alone. If you get caught round the back with any of those kids, not only will you get the sack on the spot, the management of the club and of the promotions company have said they’ll press charges.”

I looked around. I wasn’t convinced his threats had made any impact. Neither was he.

“Shell, keep an eye on them will you?”

“Me? So I’m babysitting the babysitters am I?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he said.

If I said the gig went off without a hitch, there would be no point in telling you about it, would there?

Some of the girls must have been on something, they were more hyper than any kid I’ve ever seen – except that one kid who had allergic reactions to blue smarties…

We had radios and so one ear had protection from the squeals, but I could really have used an ear-plug for the other ear. And FUCK! Were they annoying little bitches!

They were still at school of course and that was blatantly obvious, tell-tales and bullies for the most part and they ALL came to me!

“Do I look like your fucking teacher?” I asked one girl when she came towards me for the fifth time.

The band finally gave the signal that they were ready. The stage they were meant to perform on was a foot high, in a room barely big enough to contain everyone.

The kids had that look about them as they were herded towards the room where the stage was. That murderous look in their eyes that told of mischief and mayhem. Yeah, I had kids, I’d seen that look before, I braced myself. A couple of the lads that hadn’t been there on the previous gig and didn’t have kids didn’t know what hit them.

The girls barrelled through the doors like the scene in The Shining – you know, the lift and all that blood… We stood with our backs to the stage, arms linked, one foot braced behind us, leaning into the stampede and that was before the band came on stage!

The girls hit us like a herd of rhinos. Luckily they were mostly slight little things and they bounced off our barricade. They redoubled their efforts when the band made their appearance though.

After quarter of an hour, the band said, “Thank you! And Goodnight!” and went off to prepare for signing autographs.

I looked to Dingo, a couple of guys away and mouthed the words, ‘Is that it?’

He nodded. “Just the autographs now.”

The autograph signing session had been thought out in a lot more detail. The girls were allowed in half a dozen at a time and herded out almost immediately. Attempts at passing their numbers to the guys were thwarted (mostly) and though tempers frayed, the threats that their dad would be up to see us all was laughed off more than once.

One girl decided she’d have a go at facing up to me in a confrontation because I took the pre-written phone number from her, crumpled it up and put it in my pocket.

“What are you going to do? You can’t touch me!” she said in defiance.

“No? You’re not in school now, little girl, and I’m not a fucking teacher, so my career isn’t at stake here. Now, are you going to shut up and get your autograph like a nice little girl, or are you going outside to wait for your dad to pick you up without one?”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” she said. “Can she? Well, can she?”

Dingo looked at her, nodded and laughed. “Do as you’re told, like we do,” he said.

When the brats – I mean audience – had gone outside and the band had made it past them and left, we went to the cars.

Lenny opened the front door of his car for me.

I shook my head. “No thanks, I don’t like kids, but I still want to see my own again. I’ve got a lift. Seeya on Thursday!”

Mono didn’t drop me at the club, he took me to my house. I still see him from time to time and he’s still a thoroughly nice guy. He never questioned why I didn’t want to go back with Lenny and I never told him, but I never accept lifts from people whose driving I don’t trust.

Images from pixabay