I'm frequently asked to elaborate on my brief stint as a Russian supper club perfrmer, the item on my resume that elicits the most attention. Most of the questions run along the theme, "Were you naked?" (I wasn't, I swear).
So let's clear up any misconceptions. It was the early nineties. I was living in Manhattan, pursuing a career as a professional modern dancerwhich meant that I worked a wide variety of random jobs to support myself (including bartending, dogwalking, etc). I got the supper club job through a friend from one of my dance classes who kne that I was between gigs (which is a nice way of saying I was out of work at the time). I usually filled those interims with bartending jobs, but had recently had a bad experience and wasn't eager to continue slinging drinks. Rent was coming due, and my bank account hovered around zero. My friend approached me after class one day and said, "I know how you can make decent money for a half