Buffalo Jills Mad That They Were Treated Like The Pieces of Meat They Signed Up To Be

(4, 1, 3, 2)

Link to NY Times Article

Alyssa cannot recall the precise moment she realized her dream gig as a Buffalo Bills cheerleader had turned into a nightmare. Each week held so many indignities. Supervisors ordered the cheerleaders, known as the Buffalo Jills, to warm up in a frigid, grubby stadium storeroom that smelled of gasoline. They demanded that cheerleaders pay $650 for uniforms. They told the cheerleaders to do jumping jacks to see if flesh jiggled. The Jills were required to attend a golf tournament for sponsors. The high rollers paid cash — “Flips for Tips” — to watch bikini-clad cheerleaders do back flips. Afterward, the men placed bids on which women would ride around in their golf carts.

Woah woah woah. So let me get this straight. You signed up to wear minimal clothes in Buffalo, NY in front of 60,000 people and now you're mad that you were treated like a piece of meat? Like a circus animal or some kind of sideshow?

NEWSFLASH: THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE.

Your only job is to entertain the old, horny, creepy men that are at a football game and can't focus on the Bills missing the playoffs for the 15th year in a row.

And then these idiots complaining about not being paid for all of these appearances? How many times do you need to show up and not get paid before you realize what's going on? Being a Buffalo Jill is not the same as being a Buffalo Bill. No one cares about you. No one would ever pay to see you unless you're working at Sundowners. You're just like the little kid that runs out and grabs the tee after the kickoff, except they're athletic. You can be replaced at the drop of a hat and no one will notice. NO ONE.

This was my favorite part:
"Alyssa recalled that team managers herded the winning cheerleaders into a darkened room to watch a slide show. They saw screen shots of their Facebook pages, obtained without their permission. “You’re thinking, oh my God, this is so embarrassing,” she said. “And they never asked you about any of this.”

HA! Have you ever worked in a real place before? Or maybe poke around Facebook and find the "private" button. Just goes to show how fucking dramatic these women are. They never asked you to access your public facebook profile? OK, Hunny.

So take your stupid fuckin pom-poms and get the fuck out of my face. We got the drumline hardasses now!