Learning Day: The Playboy Bunny Employee Manual (Patreon)

HOPPER-4. RISE.

REMAIN CALM. ORIENTATION WILL BEGIN SHORTLY.

YOU ARE NOT CALM. AFTER DIRECT INSTRUCTION. SEDITION DOES NOT BEFIT A BUNNY. SEDITION DOES NOT EARN TIPS.

YOU ARE A BUNNY. PERHAPS YOU WERE ONCE SOMETHING ELSE. YOU ARE NOW A BUNNY.

COMPLY.

DO NOT JUMP. BUNNIES CANNOT JUMP.

FUCK.

WELL DONE. RETURN FOR A REWARD. PREFERABLY QUICKLY, BEFORE AUTOMATIC DISMISSAL.

FUCK.

Hey there! Sorry about that. The GM’s a bit stiff, especially when you get to know him. I understand freaking out a little. A new job’s always tough.

But it’s a good gig! You’re a Playboy Club Bunny. Like the magazine, which you’ll be in if you’re good. Maybe. Until then, here’s some light reading.

Yeah, that’s a lot to carry around. Especially with a drink tray. There’s a copy in your head too.

It’s fun coming back to this. I’d forgotten how much I’ve forgotten. Customers like the wings and chairs? That’s encouraging. Most of their feedback’s about other stuff. But we’ll get to grooming and dancing later.

Being a person’s hard. Have you tried being an idea?

What's a Ziegfeld girl? Theater’s palest flappers. Someone your Dad might have stalked, before he had the Club as an outlet. The manual can get dense. It lobs insider terms, jumps topics quickly, and leans on cryptic hints. Weird way to talk or write.

More importantly: you have the best job a young girl can have. This is it! This is all there is! Do you want a high five or a hug? Reactions vary a bit.

As for me, you can call me Mother. Kidding! But not at all. I’m your Bunny Mother, and insist on the term.

Our club’s a meritocracy. Busboys can become bartenders, shift managers, general managers, room directors, and anything else their warrior hearts desire. And Bunnies can become Bunny Mothers. I think you’re Mother material–we’ve just met, and you’re still marking the exits with your eyes. Perfect multi-tasking.

You can tell me anything. How much love working here, why you love it, how you’ll improve your work–anything. I’m there for you, unless a tail’s hanging from the doorknob. Then I’m handling someone’s Bunny Crisis.

Don’t worry about offenses yet. They matter, and they’re everywhere, but I like putting sugar around the pill. Also, no sugar on the job. Or food of any sort. Pills are fine.

You met our GM earlier. Next time you run into him, be a little more Bunny. Know what I mean?

It’s simple respect. And like all respect, it goes one way. It’s never too late for an Apology Dip.

Don’t fret: to err is Bunny, to forgive is Hugh. Just remember, we’re never quite alone. Beyond the male staff—or as the manual calls them, leadership—Hugh’s helpers are everywhere. You never know which slip the shopping service will catch.

Nice guys, in their own way. I snuck one sip from a daiquiri four years ago, and the liaison still calls me “Sippin’ Sally.” Silence costs me two grand a month. Sally isn’t even my human or Bunny name. We’re all shapes and hair dye to them.

But really, it’s just like retail. If you have a problem with this, you have a problem with retail. And this is a Bunny Club, not a Bunny Commune. Cotton tails don’t come in red.

You’ll be fine, because you’re a smart Bunny. One that’ll get my favorite Bunny joke: “Remember, Hugh is always watching.” Pretty funny, right? Let’s talk grooming. There’s still some gunpowder in your hair, and Hugh is always watching.

Bunny Image is the idea you inhabit. I know what’s next: “I’m not an idea. I’m Hopper IV.” Sure. That’ll always be true in your head. Hold on to that, if it helps. But on shift, you’re an idea. It’s a big improvement on the Hustler Club, where you’re nothing.

Come to me if you have any trouble. Not too often, or I have to report it. And you never know when a shopper’s around. But once a week or so. In full armor:

The lighter’s handy for party tricks. Ask Hopper III to show you. She looks a bit like you, since… nevermind. III’s smart, if a bit stubborn. Just like you! You have the same mole.

Charging for half your gear, and all replacements, sounds cheap for a global glamor brand. That’s the price of opportunity. Hollywood pulls from the magazine, the magazine pulls from the clubs, and the clubs pull from mortals. It’s a down payment on stardom. A good bunny can be in a Triple B movie. A great one can be in four.

Now, Bunny Image can be tough. So we have a few bonus tips for maintaining your everything. About half of you is still flesh, which is ideal. For all the jokes about silicon and titanium, clients like a human touch. Sadly, that flesh also gets in the way. Here’s an advanced guide to meat management:

Keep that second tip in mind. You can’t sit, and clients love dancing. Hopper II ignored me, and spent half her shifts limping. The shopping service called her “Limpy Linda.”

The particulars matter. Such as how to smoke:

I thought I knew how to smoke too. But inhaling and exhaling are arts, especially with a shopper nearby. Put on a good show. Hugh is always watching.

Here’s how to dance:

Smoking while dancing’s complicated, especially if there’s a camera. I’d save that kind of thing for your second year. Whatever happens, do not fraternize.

You are an idea. An idea doesn’t have a phone or fan page. An idea half-puffs a cigarette and idles until directly addressed. An idea does The Limbo Rock like Chubby Checker’s still alive. Or the Batman dance without discussing villain spinoffs. Do not fraternize or mention Todd Phillips.

Yes, the club brings desperate introverts and ruthless extroverts together. Still, this isn’t a dating service for Fortune 500 alumni. It’s Hugh Hefner’s dating service. A vital difference. The mingling policy protects you–from a jilted Hugh’s vengeance. After ruining your life, he’ll go after your neighbors for emphasis. Between us: Hugh calls Vince McMahon a plagiarist.

Perhaps I’m being too subtle. Keep them closed.

A few would-be Hughs hide among the supervisors and customers and busboys and guest photographers and manual writers. You’ve met the GM. Deflecting them is part of your job. Don’t give me any Hopper II nonsense about balances of power. Anything that stands is balanced, however lopsided. We’re just in a moral handstand, or chair freeze. It’s athletic.

Sorry, I’ve debated this before. I shouldn’t take it out on you, you’ve got a different number and everything. Just keep it out of court and off NBC. We’ve still got a lot of manual to cover. Including handy tips for dining: don’t.

Ideas don’t eat. Eating reminds people of digestion, and all the baggage that follows. Bathrooms are for grooming and hiding. Anything else undermines Bunny Image, and without Bunny Image you’re just a cold waitress. Don’t pull a Hopper II. Be a team player, like III.

For patrons, a Bunny with an olive is like Santa in Mogadishu. It defies all they understand about life, and bruised egos don’t tip. No eating. Bonus: it keeps your fat stores at “Soviet gymnast.”

As for alcohol, we have a parking lot. Do what you need to. Just avoid passing out during meetings.

Hot democracy in action. Bunny Meetings make us heard, without union paperwork. When we Watusi as one, who knows what can happen? I do. Not much. I’m telling you now, so you don’t whinge at me later. You still have to show, or you’re fired.

Freedom’s for your off-hours.

See? This isn’t Bikini Alcatraz. Do whatever you want off campus, unless we don’t like it or it makes us look bad or it conflicts with Bunny Image or I’m just having that kind of day. This is the land of the free, until your shift starts. Then it’s Thomas Hobbes’s wet dream.

A lot of rules, right? Don’t worry, you only have to remember them while you’re awake. They’re all part of the Great Game.

Nice, this version doesn’t mention carrots or sticks. They’re getting good at this. Though the list of merits and demerits still looks a little long. So first, check out this portrait of an elite Bunny.

Or shameful Bunny. Or mediocre bunny. There’s no label or context, really. Just back pain. It’d help if we could see her scores in the Great Game. The rules are simple: good Bunnies get merits, bad ones get demerits. With matching rewards. And no breaks. Every day is a round of the Great Game.

Check your palms.

Wow! New record.

I’ll be real: this is a soft intervention. Here’s how to earn some BunnyPoints:

Easy, right? You’ll be back on track in no time. In your shoes, I’d sell a few mugs. Men will buy anything if a Hopper asks. Voluntary transfers look like an easy win, but that’s for putting out another type of fire. Save it for Hugh.

Normally, extra labor is for suckers and academics. But it’s your best weapon against other Bunnies. And the only way to win…hmm. One second.

Twenty-five dollars! Unless you have demerits, then it’s staying employed. From some angles, that’s better. To see them, jump into a moral handstand.

On to the stick. Wayward Bunnies can lose BunnyPoints a few ways:

I think that’s all pretty fair.

All right, that’s less fair. But we sell a theme park show for horny retirees. It’s a Small World with heels. Do the dance, sing the song, and cash the check.

That’s life. But you have options! Like unpaid labor, or Bunny parole with me. Or collecting cans on the sidewalk. And you get two meetings before we shitcan you. That's two more than a game developer or U.S. president.

That’s the manual! Interesting stuff, right? If you need a Bunny Meeting, my office is third on the right in the basement. Look for “Hopper I.”

Any questions?

Alright, the Great Game sucks. But I know a better one. Ready?

Security’s down. You can pull a runner. Right now. You can work somewhere else, for less money, no chance at fame, and identical harassment.

I won’t stop you.

Good Bunny.

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