21

I no longer had Jessa. I no longer had Marya. And the one person I’d met who I’d actually liked had lied to me about his name after I robbed him. I just couldn’t do this anymore.

Everyday I woke up in a panic and searched for job listings under the nonprofit section on Craigslist. I liked the sounds of “Peer Educator” and “Caregiver” but I had no qualifications. “Stripper” was not an occupation to list while seeking employment, even though the customer service skill set was applicable to any straight job.

On one of my strolls to the corner for coffee, taking a break from applying, I met a guy named Tom who resembled a young hippie version of Robin Williams. He was sipping on a latte while reading the San Francisco Bay Guardian and told me about a job opening where he was working as a case manager for homeless youth. He jabbered on about how he thought everyone was attracted to him—his boss, his co-workers, and his clients. His boss called me later that day to set up a meeting.

It was pouring rain the day of the job interview. I was so nervous that I asked my friend Jen to give me a ride. In the passenger’s seat of her SUV, I broke down.

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

“They’re going to know I give handjobs.” How do I tell them about the gap in my job history over the last few years?”

“Tell them you were in school,” she said.

“Do I look like a hooker?” I asked.

“No. You look like a classical musician. Don’t worry about it.” She dropped me off in the Tenderloin. The interview lasted over an hour because I was interviewed by two groups of people: the human resources staff and the Polk Inn staff. I picked at my fingernails underneath the table where they questioned me, but not my job history. The thing they were most worried about was my long-term jag in Alcoholics Anonymous.

“This is a harm reduction program so we don’t talk about abstinence from drugs or alcohol.” Tom hired me, regardless of my career as a lap dancer. It was my first job in years that didn’t involve being naked. Every time I showed up for work I was afraid that I was going to be fired for being a hooker in AA. Everyday that I walked through the doors of the Polk Inn and wasn’t, I won a tiny victory.