You know who I worry about during this pandemic? The door man from the club

How is surviving these days? There’s no one for him to deny entry to.

His baggy suit is just collecting dust in the closet.

He randomly touches his earpiece but alas there’s no one on the other end.

The gym is closed, so he can’t even go and do upper body only workouts.

Unlike the bottle service girls who probably have someone holding them down, Door Man is on his own.

Door Man can’t start an only fans. Or pivot to become an influencer. His dream of ascending to club promoter or one day owner were dashed as clubs became ground zero for COVID.

The promise of the extra $100 on the side that a pressed fellow could slide him for club entry, gone.

The pride he would feel as he guarded access to VIP or a section from the riff raft is gone. And no one ever thanked him for his service.

He put his body on the line and manhandled club patrons with no benefits or insurance. Just steady weekend money and free drinks.

No one ever grows up aspiring to become the door man. But when duty called, he took off his sweats, kinda suited up and reminded black men nation wide “we not doing jeans or sneakers in here tonight buddy”.

Cheers to you Door Man. I hope you’re doing well.