The Proofredder
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Relationships, Culture, Escorts, Sex, Psychology

The Proofredder

We all have our gifts. Hers was not between the ears!

photo by author

No, there’s no typo in the title. It’s spelled that way for a reason! Allow me to explain.

Several years ago when I was a significant contributor at SCREW Magazine, the editor of the publication and I used to hustle sessions in exchange for giving individuals or houses free-of-charge guide listings. The tradition had been a perk for the editorial staff for as long as the paper existed. Al would fire anybody who sold the listing and put the money in his pocket. But a little “fun” in exchange for a word ad? That was fine. After all, the editors deserved a little time off from dealing with the boss’s insanity.

I myself entered the privileged circle when a guy named Steve became editor. Once he realized I knew and sold advertising to a lot of people in the escort business, he assigned me a weekly column and gave me the office phone to hustle my clients for sessions in exchange for guide listings. Almost everybody was receptive. The listings were known to be effective. An excellent deal for both parties was virtually ensured.

Steve and I would switch off with the rewards for my salesmanship. He’d get one — then I’d get the next — and on and on like that!

So anyway…I had this client who was half-owner of a successful escort agency as well as a partner in GHETTOGAGGERS, an abhorrent streaming website whose program is pretty much self-explanatory. Bernie knew about the guide listing program…and knew Steve and I were running it. So he called one day to offer one of the new just-videod gaggers for an hour in exchange for the listing he knew would bring him business. And it was my turn!

Later that night, the girl called to get directions to my place. And shortly thereafter, she arrived at my apartment building looking as physically attractive as she turned out to be mentally dim. And that’s saying something! But who cared? I wasn’t looking for Albert Einstein’s sister. I was looking for a pretty girl with a beautiful body. And that…I definitely got.

After our “business meeting,” the girl cracked on me for a job as an escort. Bernie’s customers weren’t really into black girls and thus, he welcomed me getting her work as the girl was pestering him for customers he had difficulty providing given that most of his client base preferred less colorful women.

His loop girl wasn’t that fantastic in the room. But she did have an awesome body and would surely be a welcome addition for a particular madam who ran ads with me. Or at least, that’s what I was hoping for the girl.

But when she started working at the house, the clients commenced to bitching about her performance in the clinch. And it wasn’t long before the boss was calling to say “this girl ain’t gonna make it. I’m getting complaints from the guys.”

Owner #1 fired the girl summarily. But because of her physique, Bernie's friend moved on to gain employment with another client of mine who welcomed almost anybody if she looked good. But once again…the complaints about her performance began.

Disappointed that she wasn’t cutting the mustard, the girl with the million dollar body but no acumen in the room picked up a New York Post and began looking for work in the mainstream to escape all the criticism. And when she hit the proofreading ads, the girl just knew she’d found her new calling. Excited about the impending adventure into a new line of work, she called me enthusiastically to froth “Billy! I’ve been reading The Post and I want to become a ‘proofredder.’”

Now, you know it was all I could do to not bust out laughing. I mean…come on, girl. I think you need to know how to pronounce the word correctly before you march into the office and tell them you’re looking for the “proofredder” job!

But I took the high road…encouraging her to become the world’s greatest “proofredder” if that’s what she wanted to do. I even oriented her for a second explaining that the best way to “proofred” a piece of text was to read it backwards so she could concentrate on every word individually rather than risk passing over an error. (This is actually true.)

The girl really was a decent human being. And I was hoping for her to succeed — even if all the odds seemed stacked against her. She wasn’t going to make it as an escort. And realistically, proofreading was out of the question.

Well anyway…all’s well that ends well. The last I heard, the girl found a boyfriend (not that difficult…she was built like crazy and pretty enough) and faded away from the business. But her memory lingers as a prime example of one of the most sonorous dumbbells I’ve ever met on the escort trail.

Thankfully, God gave her a few gifts with which to navigate this life. It’s just that gray matter wasn’t one of them. What more can I say? I’d bet there’s more than one girl who’d swap her brain for this girl’s body! May we all count our blessings — whatever they are!

Look above! The picture accompanying this piece is actually the girl.