In about December 2016 at Mettler's, I met a little man in a green hoodie that said “Get Lucky” on the front, with little Celtic knots on the hood. I knew from looking at him that he wasn't Irish. As he began a whining monologue about how I needed to provide better customer service to the patronage by sitting with them and smiling more, I knew he was a steaming pile of shit. I asked him if he was Irish anyway, and he confirmed that he was just wearing the hoodie because he liked it. His name was Dan, and he worked at a bagel shop called Tandem Bagels, which was across the street from Mettler's. I was familiar with Tandem Bagels— not because I had ever been inside— but because I frequently passed it by and wondered if they had vegan cream cheese, so much that I found their menu online to see that it was not a vegan friendly place. I didn't mention my vegan status to Dan at the beginning of our conversation, because I knew that would probably prevent him from spending money on me. I bit my vegan tongue until after he spent money on me. During the time that I was dancing for him, Dan chose to use that time to tell me that I needed to smile more. I humored him, by making no mention of how ugly and disgusting looking he was, and how the entirety of his being would make most women grimace in repulsion. I smiled and nodded at him while he ranted to me and bought more dances. When he ran low on funds, I mentioned that I looked at the Tandem Bagels menu online, but I didn't want to go there, because they didn't have vegan cream cheese or vegan sandwiches. He immediately became angry and upset with me, raised his voice and stated,

“See that's what I don't like about vegans! Vegans want to shove everything down other people's throats!...I want to shove my cock down your throat!”

I walked away from him right after that, both because he was out of money and because he was threatening me with sexual assault. It was deeply painful to have some ugly, disgusting Mankato douchebag threatening to sexually assault me. I continued to hustle throughout the night, thinking about how grotesque Dan was, while he stared me down. A cocktail waitress named Missy (real name Melissa) approached him and chatted. In the cess pool of Mankato, where everyone knows everyone, Missy and Dan Johnson went back years, since high school. They had the same circle of friends. Later on, Missy informed me that he admitted to her that he told me he wanted to shove his cock down my throat. He expressed remorse to Missy about his statement. However, in subsequent visits to the club, he spent time glaring at me and making my life uncomfortable. He did this by discussing me with other dancers, discussing how I should smile more, and talking negatively about me with customers. Whenever he was in my workplace, he would make it a point to stare me down. Whenever I saw his hideous visage, I was haunted with his statement, “I want to shove my cock down your throat.” His presence caused me stress and anxiety. This went on for months, from about December when I met him until about April when I stopped working at Mettler’s.

If I was more ambitious, I would've tried getting a restraining order against Dan Johnson. I had a meeting with CADA about him. They gave me a run down of legal options on how to handle him. However, it was uncertain as to whether or not I would have success in getting the restraining order, so I didn't go through with it. I spoke with my manager Woody about Dan. Woody acknowledged that Dan is “a dirty guy,” and assured me that my job was not in jeopardy because of anything Dan Johnson said about me in the workplace. However, Dan was never asked to leave my workplace. Dan was friends with the owner's son and knew most of the Mettler's staff.

Dan’s behavior was a contributing factor in the sexual harassment portion of the lawsuit.