The advertising department at the paper had been running classified ads seeking young women interested in working as
lingerie models. The paper wanted the advertising revenue, but was worried the real
nature of the business was prostitution. So they sent me off to pretend to be a
job applicant so I could report back to them, a task that I accepted without hesitation.
The interview was in a hotel room at The
Dome, a fairly popular place in mid-1980s Kamloops. I can’t remember
what I wore. An average man of average age – 35, maybe, with the everyman feel
of someone who, like myself, had known life in a B.C. resource town – invited me to
sit down. A few minutes later, a woman of about the same age joined us.
My managers back at the paper had sent me
to the job interview in the company of a male reporter, who was to park outside
and be ready to save me from whatever darkness might lie within. This made me
laugh then and now, although I do appreciate that my bosses at least wanted
somebody to witness me disappearing behind the door where unnamed depravity was
possibly lurking.
In fact, the job interview was notable for
its complete ordinariness. The man didn’t seem concerned that I had never
worked as a lingerie model, and talked about how my job would be to go to
private parties - some of them in hotel rooms - where I would model lingerie to potential
buyers and be paid a commission.
We got to the point where we had said pretty
much all there is to say about lingerie modelling, but the feeling of an
elephant in the room just kept getting bigger. I saw that it was going to be up
to me to cut to the chase. I asked if there was an opportunity to make additional
money selling something more than lingerie.
The man and woman who were interviewing me
both let out these huge sighs of relief, and instantly relaxed into much more personable, jokey versions of their
previous selves. Yes, yes, exactly, the
man enthused to me – I was welcome to sell much more than lingerie. Once that door
shut between me and the lingerie enthusiast and the big wide world, he said,
the two of us were free to explore any opportunities we wanted.
The interview went on for probably an hour,
and got a lot more comfortable for all concerned once we got past the lingerie cover story. As we wrapped up, the
man told me I would have to come back the next day and take my clothes off in
front of the woman, who would verify that I had no "huge scars" or obvious disfigurement. The man reassured me that as far as he could
tell, I almost certainly would get the job. I left the hotel room feeling strangely
exhilarated.
I never returned for the second interview, although
I’ve always liked to think that if I had, I could have had that job. My bosses
were waiting for me the second I got back to the office, and I'll never forget the riveted looks on their faces as I recounted my interview. They
hung on every word. I came to see that
verifying the legitimacy of a lingerie seller might not have been their only
motive for sending me on the assignment.
I never went undercover again in my
journalism career. It’s a fairly dishonest way to land a story, and I frown on
it other than for the rare stories that simply can’t be told without subterfuge.
I suppose that might be why the story of my sex-work interview has gone unwritten until now. Or perhaps I simply had to grow old enough not to care that I might hurt my former bosses' feelings by revealing that what was most striking to me about that notable day was the
hungry looks on their faces as they listened to me. I think I learned something new about men that day.
I trust no reader will take this anecdote
of mine to mean that I “know what it’s like to be a sex worker” or something
insane like that. There is much more to sex work than a job interview. I will
leave it to my many brilliant and fascinating friends who really do work in the
industry to tell those stories.
All I'm saying is that one time maybe 30 years
ago now, I did a job interview with a couple of people trying to set up an
escort agency in Kamloops. And I’m still pleased that I nailed it.
Catch the video on sex workers' rights that I put together in conjunction with Peers Victoria for the June 13 Day of Solidarity for sex workers.
