For the last year of working in the bar there has been various cases of people asking me about being the new waitress, how long I’ve worked here and I must not work a lot because they’re a regular, are here all the time and they have never seen me. Yes, if you are here all the time, I can see how you would miss me.
What’s the better part of this is it’s mostly by the same people who keep reintroducing themselves, like being stuck in a time loop (Ground Hog Day) and having to repeat the same horrible awkward introductions again.
Them: “Oh, hey, you must have just started, I haven’t seen you here before.”
Me: “Oh, Hi! I’m ______. Yeah, served you last week. haha… whiskey with a coke back right?”
Them: “…yeah, um, yeah.”
Then the next 5 minutes consist of an awkward drink drop off, handing back change and them trying to make amends for forgetting who I am.
It’s an endless cycle of drunk forgetting.
Tuesday’s are my hang out, drink and paint with a friend and co-worker. Normally I am far more productive, but this time only two half finished pieces. Want to share the progress! The crappy photo’s were taken with my phone. Sigh.
For Christmas gifts this year I did a gift that I gave to everyone, friends and family a like. Custom made coffee cups from this tutorial I found . Cheap and easy, got the cups from thrift store and the Youth Ranch. Most cost about .50¢ The markers and porcelain paints that I used were as equally cheap. So I though I’d share my results!
You’d be surprised how often people think I’m a stripper.
Or whatever mysterious lady of the night jobs are out there. This is assumed by strangers and friends a like, well, new people introduced by long time friends who think it’s hilarious to say, “Hey this is my friend ******, She’s a ‘Lady of the Night'” har har.
For everyone else it usually starts with an intro, “What are you up too?” followed by the, “Oh, just getting a drink before I go to work tonight” a long, long awkward pause enters and I know, I know exactly what they are going to say.
“Um, might I/can I ask where you work?”
There used to be a time when I would so nicely answer that, now It’s “No, not a stripper or a hooker.” I am waiting for the right person so I can pull out the, “Give me $50 and meet me out back and I’ll show you what I do.” but am too afraid of a sting operation, or something taking me up on it.
What I don’t understand is the very defensive response of not wanting to offend me, which is long gone. What’s offense is that’s the only job you can think of for a Woman to work at past the hours of 10 and that it’s a dirty thing to be one. Had someone once go, “Yeah, I thought you looked way to clean” Wha?
What is it about the dirty undertones of a woman working at night?
I always seem to find myself in a coffee shop every time I end up jobless. I imagine it’s the need to get out and do something other than stay at home, wallowing in my own filth, depressed at the thought of not being able to go out and do anything because that will cost money. Maybe it’s the need to stop driving around dropping off applications at the least depressing jobs I can find. So the need for a $1.50 cup of coffee (free refills) and the free wi-fi overwhelms me, the compulsion to go becomes almost fanatical .
I will spend hours, hours at a coffee shop. Always the same one, it’s like a drinker falling off the bandwagon hitting up his old haunts with a million excuses. I think, This Is Whats Going To Get Me A Job And Out Of These Sad State Of Affairs. It’s more likely for me to end with a bad case of the caffeine jitters and me Facebook stalking then anything productive.
I started out the new year next to the door guys and the other cocktail hiding out, splitting a shot since I hadn’t grabbed one in my hurry to dodge a couple of people who had offered to be my new years kiss if I didn’t have anyone else. Yes, thank you for the offer. No, no, I wont be taking you up on that. Get your dirty puke mouth away from me.
The rest of the night involved serious pushing, a stiletto to the pinky toe, someone stuffing a flask down her bra to avoid me taking it away and me using a voice half possessed, half Randy Savage to tell people to just, get out of my way move move move move, stop hitting my tray – that’s full of drinks and I will hit you with this champagne bottle don’t think I won’t. No drinks spilt, by me and only one serious panic attack.
A good night.
This morning involved waking up and filling for unemployment as I was laid off at my full-time job this last Tuesday. This is the first time I have ever claimed the benefits, not that I haven’t been unemployed before. I had a full time Day Job and my 4-8 hours on the weekends serving.
And that’s why I figured I would start a Blog. New Blog, New Year, New Unemployment, New Smoking Ban in the Bar and People Still Thinking I’m The New Waitress.