Teazers has a loser regular named Bobby Wayne Coleman. Here is his photo that I found on his facebook:

He’d come in there most nights that we were open and stay a few hours. All of the staff and dancers knew who he was, and occasionally he’d hop up on stage to jokingly dance or do other tacky, slapstick things, as though he were in high school being a popular/funny guy with obnoxious masculinity for all to see and laugh at good ‘ole boy Bobby Wayne Coleman.

He’d usually say very sexually disgusting, vulgar things to me when I sat down at a table to chat with him, which inspired me to avoid him most of the time. However, I did some genealogical research on Bobby to find that there were multiple inter-marriages between his ancestors and mine in Camden, TN, over the course of two hundred years. He has some relatives who are buried in the same Birdsong Road cemetery where mine are buried. The cemetery in question is relatively small and isolated, so it was interesting to find all of the similarities between Bobby’s genealogy and my own. I think we are distant cousins. It was around the time I mentioned the cousins thing to Bobby that he started being nicer to me and asking me out on dates.

Diamond didn’t like it very much when I sat and talked with Bobby Wayne Coleman. She’d do all kinds of creepy things like come up behind him while I was asking him genealogy questions, to rub his shoulders and rub her ugly old lady fake tits against the back of his head while he was eating some of the nasty food that Teazers served. It was so grotesque to see, but also morbidly entertaining like I was stuck in some horrible John Waters movie.

Here is a food photo I pulled from some Teazers social media:

Bobby Wayne Coleman had a married friend who came to the club with him sometimes. I wish I could remember that guy’s name so I could doxx him. One time, he and his married friend had to bolt out of there, because his friend’s wife called to check on where he was. His friend lied to his wife and said he wasn’t at Teazers. After Bobby and his friend left, his friend’s wife and her gal pal rushed in from Camden, to ask the dancers if they had been in club. Diamond instructed everyone to lie and say we hadn’t seen them. I really wanted to tell, but instead I just avoided the women completely.

I suspected that Bobby was some kind of drug dealer by the frequency with which he visited Teazers and comfort level he had with all of the staff. Bobby owned a hydroponic CBD hemp operation that he was really proud to talk about, but then sometimes he’d get into talking about cannabis in a secretive way with certain people, as though there was some stuff he didn’t want to broadcast.

Bobby completely stopped acknowledging me after I asserted my labor rights to Diamond, informed her she is breaking the law, and refused to do any of the stupid bullshit rules she spitefully told me to follow. It was an unfortunate but unsurprising consequence. On my last night of work before being fired, Bobby was in there hanging out and wouldn’t even say hi to me. As disappointing as it was, Bobby Wayne Coleman certainly isn’t the first cousin of mine to side with some stupid bitch who likes to triangulate.

The state park near Camden is called Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park. Nathan Bedford Forrest was the first Grand Wizard of the klan. I consider the fact that they haven’t yet renamed that state park a testament to how stupid and horrible most of the people in and around Camden are.