Almost one month and 7 waitress shifts in, I have learned more than I thought I would about the human race... or, at least the ones that get completely inebriated on the weekends.
Still "day jobless" I am working my rear off at the bar on the weekends to make enough cash to survive in Chicago. Thursday night was a themed evening at my place of employment. Dirty Bingo. I won't go into detail, but the only dirty parts were the explicit give-aways and the crowd. If anyone reading this has ever worked in a restaurant of bar, you will understand the girl I am about to explain. The little helper.
A 5'2" brunette striking an uncanny resemblance to Jennifer Love Hewitt during the Party of Five days popped up next to me within the first three minutes of my shift - a shift that I was all alone on. "oh. hey. um. can you please get us 13 shots, menus, waters, an extra table annnnd, oh, um, the people next to us would like some menus too. thanks!" Deep breaths.
I placed her order, delivered the menus for her group of 13 AND for the people behind her that had been sitting there for maybe 45 seconds. She was just so sweet to be looking out for everyone else in the bar. Suddenly, everyone in Lincoln Park thought it would be a great idea to join "Dirty Bingo Night" and flooded the bar. Every table was full, every stool taken, and a few people that stood... and expected to eat a burger. I was running like a mad woman. Every time I would pass through the tables, my arm was grabbed and "CAN I HAVE A RUM AND COKE" was shouted in my face. By the time I'd reach my station... a few of those RUM AND COKES were completely lost in my memory. Right as I am about to regurgitate the orders and enter them into the computer, I was interrupted. Enter: Little helper. "Um, hi, so, um, we're ready for you to take our order." I politely explained that I was the only person on the floor tonight for the 200 people seated, drinking, and ordering food - and that I would be with her as soon as I had a chance. Two minutes pass... "oh, um, hi. I was just wondering if you'd had that chance yet."
I looked at her little scooped nose and contemplated the consequences of squirting her with mustard, or dumping a drink over her shiny hair. Deep breaths. I walked to the very end of the bar and took orders for her and her 13 friends - all separate checks, of course.
We had one person in the kitchen... so the food took about 20 minutes and since her posse insisted on separate checks, the cook had no idea that they were all together and was making one thing at a time. My little helper was like a two year old screaming for juice on the kitchen floor. She tugged and tormented me at least 15 times throughout the night... FINALLY, dirty bingo was over and everyone was drunk and fed. I had done my job. I deliver the bills all over the bar... and get to my little helper. Her total was $78 dollars, although it felt like it should have been $178 with the amount of dialogue we exchanged. Everyone else in her party was sweet and threw me a $4 or $5 tip for their $8 total. Then, in slow motion, I spotted her bill presenter with the signed check inside. I grabbed it, opened it and suddenly regretted not squirting her petite frame with every ounce of mustard in the bar. $2. She left me $2.
This brings me to my next point. Girls don't tip. I try to bond with them... compliment their top or their designer bag. I'll ask them what they're up to and how the night is going. They'll sit in my section for hours ordering free diet coke refills or only a couple of beers and then leave me the standard 20%. I'm no genius at math, but I am learning quickly that 20% of $2 diet coke isn't much. I firmly believe that every person who dines out should work in a bar or restaurant once in their lives. I can always tell who has, because they get it, and tip generously.
Finally, I was assigned to coat check on Saturday night. A pretty good gig... you sit, take coats, and get tipped. You also have a front row seat to the best show in town: inebriation station. I got out a piece of paper and took notes in between hanging jackets because what I was witnessing, totally sober, was perfection.
First, we have the "wannabe rap stars". These young men open and close their mouths at a rapid pace to make it look like they know the words to the latest Kanye West song - or any rap song. Obviously, they don't and look like total morons mumbling to the beat of the song moving their hands in jerky motions to emphasize the power of being a (wannabe) rapper. Why do boys lift each other off of the ground so much? Is it to show affection? Then, there are the make out bandits - the ladies that I thought were kissing their boyfriend... but then were kissing a different boyfriend? And is that another? My favorite was a guy who came up to me in a panic. "Excuse me. Do you have a cup?" I asked for what... "Well, my friend bought me this beer, and I really don't like it and don't want to drink it. SO, I would like to pour out half of it to make it look like I drank it." Really? A $4 beer. His friend must have been very sensitive. I could go on and on... it was beyond entertaining.
Another weekend at the bar is over, and we're back to Monday. I'm leaving the chilly Chicago for San Diego this week. I'm meeting Darren's family. Wish me luck! I hope everyone has a fabulous Thanksgiving holiday. Just remember, tip generously; no matter how much wine you consume, leave the rapping to the professionals; and try not to do any quick, jerky movements if dancing is involved - it's just never a good idea.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
"Boys" in the City
Jen will probably kill me for writing this. Maybe I should change her name in this entry to be completely conspicuous. That might be more obvious than not, I suppose.
I moved to Chicago with a boyfriend. Wasn't the plan... in fact, the reason Jen and I decided it was time to move was because it was the first time we were single at the same time in five years. NO DATING was our motto three months prior to our departure. One night, Jen came home from a date (totally broke the rule) and was smiling from ear to ear because she had such a fabulous time. I was like the evil head mistress of the No Dating for Jen Academy - waiting with a wooden spoon by the door for her return. She came home and was about to tell me about the date when I burst, screaming "Don't you fall in love with him because we'll never move away!" I've been known to be a little dramatic from time to time. In this instance, Jen grabbed that hypothetical wooden spoon from me and smacked me with it for having such little faith. The guy turned out to be a total jerk a week later - which I claimed I had known all along, of course.
A month later, I had a boyfriend.
Jen has been playing it cool in Chicago... not at all boy crazy and completely in control. In fact, it's just the opposite. None of these young men can seem to play it cool.
We are young, yes. Fortunately, for women, finding an older more mature man is completely socially acceptable. When we moved to Chicago, we realized that we didn't have many guy friends in Seattle under 28 years old. Now, the majority of our new posse would definitely check the 24-27 box. This is not a problem - until they want to date you.
Jen's love life has been more entertaining than any program on tv - her very own soap opera love triangle... or square... or pentagon. These boys (and yes, I mean boys) have been going crazy for our little Jen. Asking her to lunch and then planning the wedding by the afternoon. Sending secret spies on missions to catch her out with other guys and then sending "I caught you" text messages instantaneously when they'd only grabbed a coffee together during a 10 minute work break. The sweet co-worker who set Jen up on a blind date with a VERY nice guy... who was 5 feet tall. My favorite one was sending messages telling Jen how she felt about him "Jen, I know you think I'm attractive" followed by an insecure "right?". One Tuesday night, Jen came home from work to find Darren and I devouring the last of our order-in dinner. She had recieved another text - this time, from a different crazy. She had gone out with him the weekend before (yes, only three days had passed) and it hadn't gone so well. There had been no correspondance from either party after the date... which doesn't mean anything as, like I said, it was only three days post date. The text read: well, i haven't heard from you, so i guess this means we're done. i hope we can still be friends. WHAT on earth was this guy thinking?! The three of us sat on the couch and scripted a line by line dialogue between Jen and "Mr. premature-call-it-quits" outlining a few minor issues like chemistry (or the lack there of) and his actions of insecurity followed by a "we are better as friends", etc. Ready to go, she placed the call. Voicemail. What does Jen do? I'll tell you what she does NOT. She does not say "hey, call me back, we obviously have some things to talk about." Instead, she jumps right into the script! "Hey, got your text - Were you calling everything off in a text message? Yikes! I just don't think we have any chemistry and would still like to be friends. Call me when you get this and we can talk about it..." A day later, he calls. She doesn't answer. His message went a little something like this: "Hey jen, got your message, YEAH, no chemistry... right... no chemistry. I guess we just didn't have chemistry, or maybe there wasn't any chemistry. Let's be friends. Bye." I can't tell, but I don't think he liked the chemistry comment. And that, ladies and gentleman, was a break-up text, followed by a break-up voicemail and yet another chemistry-less follow-up voicemail. The stories haven't stopped, and we haven't stopped laughing.
Jen and I walked home from church yesterday. Bundled up (because it snowed), she asked me through her scarf and I turned my head to read her lips as I can't hear much through the puff of my puffy coat hood - she wondered where all the "older, mature, established Chicago men" were hiding. Frozen, I responded, "Jen, we haven't even started searching. It took us a couple of years to find a few in Seattle. Let's start the hunt...there's just got to be some out there." We walked the rest of the block in silence.
I have to say - I'm incredibly lucky. I have a fabulous, amazing boyfriend who has been nothing but supportive, encouraging and loving. They do exist - hence my decision to move to a new city with a boyfriend back in Seattle - I wasn't letting this one go! This "luck" makes "the hunt" more difficult as our standards have been significantly raised.
Jen is updating a dating checklist to simplify the qualifying process. We don't have time for these crazies. It's almost New Years and Jenny needs a prince for her midnight kiss... or a new Cole Hahn bag by Christmas.
I moved to Chicago with a boyfriend. Wasn't the plan... in fact, the reason Jen and I decided it was time to move was because it was the first time we were single at the same time in five years. NO DATING was our motto three months prior to our departure. One night, Jen came home from a date (totally broke the rule) and was smiling from ear to ear because she had such a fabulous time. I was like the evil head mistress of the No Dating for Jen Academy - waiting with a wooden spoon by the door for her return. She came home and was about to tell me about the date when I burst, screaming "Don't you fall in love with him because we'll never move away!" I've been known to be a little dramatic from time to time. In this instance, Jen grabbed that hypothetical wooden spoon from me and smacked me with it for having such little faith. The guy turned out to be a total jerk a week later - which I claimed I had known all along, of course.
A month later, I had a boyfriend.
Jen has been playing it cool in Chicago... not at all boy crazy and completely in control. In fact, it's just the opposite. None of these young men can seem to play it cool.
We are young, yes. Fortunately, for women, finding an older more mature man is completely socially acceptable. When we moved to Chicago, we realized that we didn't have many guy friends in Seattle under 28 years old. Now, the majority of our new posse would definitely check the 24-27 box. This is not a problem - until they want to date you.
Jen's love life has been more entertaining than any program on tv - her very own soap opera love triangle... or square... or pentagon. These boys (and yes, I mean boys) have been going crazy for our little Jen. Asking her to lunch and then planning the wedding by the afternoon. Sending secret spies on missions to catch her out with other guys and then sending "I caught you" text messages instantaneously when they'd only grabbed a coffee together during a 10 minute work break. The sweet co-worker who set Jen up on a blind date with a VERY nice guy... who was 5 feet tall. My favorite one was sending messages telling Jen how she felt about him "Jen, I know you think I'm attractive" followed by an insecure "right?". One Tuesday night, Jen came home from work to find Darren and I devouring the last of our order-in dinner. She had recieved another text - this time, from a different crazy. She had gone out with him the weekend before (yes, only three days had passed) and it hadn't gone so well. There had been no correspondance from either party after the date... which doesn't mean anything as, like I said, it was only three days post date. The text read: well, i haven't heard from you, so i guess this means we're done. i hope we can still be friends. WHAT on earth was this guy thinking?! The three of us sat on the couch and scripted a line by line dialogue between Jen and "Mr. premature-call-it-quits" outlining a few minor issues like chemistry (or the lack there of) and his actions of insecurity followed by a "we are better as friends", etc. Ready to go, she placed the call. Voicemail. What does Jen do? I'll tell you what she does NOT. She does not say "hey, call me back, we obviously have some things to talk about." Instead, she jumps right into the script! "Hey, got your text - Were you calling everything off in a text message? Yikes! I just don't think we have any chemistry and would still like to be friends. Call me when you get this and we can talk about it..." A day later, he calls. She doesn't answer. His message went a little something like this: "Hey jen, got your message, YEAH, no chemistry... right... no chemistry. I guess we just didn't have chemistry, or maybe there wasn't any chemistry. Let's be friends. Bye." I can't tell, but I don't think he liked the chemistry comment. And that, ladies and gentleman, was a break-up text, followed by a break-up voicemail and yet another chemistry-less follow-up voicemail. The stories haven't stopped, and we haven't stopped laughing.
Jen and I walked home from church yesterday. Bundled up (because it snowed), she asked me through her scarf and I turned my head to read her lips as I can't hear much through the puff of my puffy coat hood - she wondered where all the "older, mature, established Chicago men" were hiding. Frozen, I responded, "Jen, we haven't even started searching. It took us a couple of years to find a few in Seattle. Let's start the hunt...there's just got to be some out there." We walked the rest of the block in silence.
I have to say - I'm incredibly lucky. I have a fabulous, amazing boyfriend who has been nothing but supportive, encouraging and loving. They do exist - hence my decision to move to a new city with a boyfriend back in Seattle - I wasn't letting this one go! This "luck" makes "the hunt" more difficult as our standards have been significantly raised.
Jen is updating a dating checklist to simplify the qualifying process. We don't have time for these crazies. It's almost New Years and Jenny needs a prince for her midnight kiss... or a new Cole Hahn bag by Christmas.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Move over, plum!
As I said before, unemployment is the new black... and you know I hate to be out of style!
That's right, I have the Backstreet Boys lyrics "Oh my God, we're back agaaain" on repeat in my head. It's all so familiar. Waking up, snuggling with Puss on the couch for a couple of hours catching up on Survivor Gabon (all of the cute guys got voted off... lame), hitting the Internet and googling my heart out with keywords like "chicago jobs" and "please find me the best job where I won't feel like I am becoming a robot and I get paid generously". Yes, I quit my job.
I'm not usually a quitter. I like to think I can stick it out and make the best of a bad situation... but, I also think that if the shoe doesn't fit - get a new pair (with sparkles and glitter and high heels)! I sat anxiously at my desk all day Tuesday ready to pop the news to my supervisor that I would not be returning - ever. Finally, at 5:05, she heard me out, wished me well and I was back to black.
Normally, this instability would send someone spiralling into anxiety and doubt - but I felt like a five ton brick had just been lifted off of my shoulders. At least there's the bar... never thought I'd say that!
Darren, Jen and I went to church last Sunday. It was our first time visiting a Chicago church - and it was wonderful. The sermon was written for me. It seems like that always happens... I am completely in denial, or a wreck, or convincing myself of something, and then WHABAM! It's all right in front of you, impossible to ignore. The sermon was about fear and money. She said that we all have fear around money (especially in this market) and that we simply cannot let it dictate our lives. I applied this lesson to my own life and realized that the stress I was enduring at my new sales job every day was not worth the money - my fear of quitting because I would hurt their feelings (because, let's be honest, it wasn't like I was afraid of losing my $6 an hour) was becoming more important than listening to my gut telling me to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.
The sermon was perfect. Find courage and strength... and don't forget who you are when money gets mixed in. God has a plan and all that jazz... I like to consider myself a spiritual person; but not necessarily a hard core christian - which may be why when she said " your money is not your money, but God's money" I started to lose her.
However, I am now asking God for money every night before I go to bed since apparently he has is all... Next mission: Google "how to become God so I have all the money". I'll keep you posted on how that goes...
A
That's right, I have the Backstreet Boys lyrics "Oh my God, we're back agaaain" on repeat in my head. It's all so familiar. Waking up, snuggling with Puss on the couch for a couple of hours catching up on Survivor Gabon (all of the cute guys got voted off... lame), hitting the Internet and googling my heart out with keywords like "chicago jobs" and "please find me the best job where I won't feel like I am becoming a robot and I get paid generously". Yes, I quit my job.
I'm not usually a quitter. I like to think I can stick it out and make the best of a bad situation... but, I also think that if the shoe doesn't fit - get a new pair (with sparkles and glitter and high heels)! I sat anxiously at my desk all day Tuesday ready to pop the news to my supervisor that I would not be returning - ever. Finally, at 5:05, she heard me out, wished me well and I was back to black.
Normally, this instability would send someone spiralling into anxiety and doubt - but I felt like a five ton brick had just been lifted off of my shoulders. At least there's the bar... never thought I'd say that!
Darren, Jen and I went to church last Sunday. It was our first time visiting a Chicago church - and it was wonderful. The sermon was written for me. It seems like that always happens... I am completely in denial, or a wreck, or convincing myself of something, and then WHABAM! It's all right in front of you, impossible to ignore. The sermon was about fear and money. She said that we all have fear around money (especially in this market) and that we simply cannot let it dictate our lives. I applied this lesson to my own life and realized that the stress I was enduring at my new sales job every day was not worth the money - my fear of quitting because I would hurt their feelings (because, let's be honest, it wasn't like I was afraid of losing my $6 an hour) was becoming more important than listening to my gut telling me to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.
The sermon was perfect. Find courage and strength... and don't forget who you are when money gets mixed in. God has a plan and all that jazz... I like to consider myself a spiritual person; but not necessarily a hard core christian - which may be why when she said " your money is not your money, but God's money" I started to lose her.
However, I am now asking God for money every night before I go to bed since apparently he has is all... Next mission: Google "how to become God so I have all the money". I'll keep you posted on how that goes...
A
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Yes we can and DID!
Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.
What an emotional night it was. Chicago was an unbelievable seen tonight. We are so lucky to have witnessed such a monumental moment in history, a moment we can all be very proud of. I am so excited and anxious for Obama to take office for the next four years. This is so remarkable.
Here are a few pictures from the evening.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election Day in Chicago
November 4, 2008.
A day history will be made.
A day we will be able to tell our children about.
A day Allison and I will physically be able to witness.
A day we are proud to be Americans.
As I walked out of my building this at 7am, an hour after the polls opened, and there was a line out the door and around the corner. As I got on the bus everyone was dressed in their red, white and blue, checking their iphones and blackberries for the latest news.
As I rode the bus and walked through the downtown loop, camera crews were all over the place taking in this special day. Everyone had their coffee cup in hand and the Chicago Tribune in other hand. The city is covered in American flags from head to toe, it is stunning. I had to stop and pinch myself... we are here in Chicago for one of the most amazing and influential times in our history.
The city has requested downtown offices to close at 3pm. So today we are having early dismissal (I feel like we are in school again and everyone is on the edge of their seat with excitement). As soon as I am off, I am going to wait in the long line and exercise my right to vote. I am so proud to be an American and to be in Chicago today.
As you may know Senator Obama is going to have his election night rally at Grant Park in Chicago this evening. Hopefully we will be celebrating his presidential victory. They only released 70,000 tickets to the event but are expecting well over a million people to be there. We unfortunately do not have tickets but are still going to take part in the rally. It is going to be insane, but we are only going to be apart of this once.
We will report back tomorrow. Now back to work with all McCain supporting hedge fund colleagues.
Jen
A day history will be made.
A day we will be able to tell our children about.
A day Allison and I will physically be able to witness.
A day we are proud to be Americans.
As I walked out of my building this at 7am, an hour after the polls opened, and there was a line out the door and around the corner. As I got on the bus everyone was dressed in their red, white and blue, checking their iphones and blackberries for the latest news.
As I rode the bus and walked through the downtown loop, camera crews were all over the place taking in this special day. Everyone had their coffee cup in hand and the Chicago Tribune in other hand. The city is covered in American flags from head to toe, it is stunning. I had to stop and pinch myself... we are here in Chicago for one of the most amazing and influential times in our history.
The city has requested downtown offices to close at 3pm. So today we are having early dismissal (I feel like we are in school again and everyone is on the edge of their seat with excitement). As soon as I am off, I am going to wait in the long line and exercise my right to vote. I am so proud to be an American and to be in Chicago today.
As you may know Senator Obama is going to have his election night rally at Grant Park in Chicago this evening. Hopefully we will be celebrating his presidential victory. They only released 70,000 tickets to the event but are expecting well over a million people to be there. We unfortunately do not have tickets but are still going to take part in the rally. It is going to be insane, but we are only going to be apart of this once.
We will report back tomorrow. Now back to work with all McCain supporting hedge fund colleagues.
Jen
Saturday, November 1, 2008
And then I was a waitress...
I have had many jobs in my 24 years of life. Receptionist positions, a dishwasher on Sundays, a Spanish tutor and now a cold caller; and now I can officially add "waitress" to the list. I have never bartended or been a waitress in my life. With no experience, my personality (or something...) must have won over the GM as he hired me quickly.
I went in last Wednesday to learn the computers and shadow another waitress, and after two hours I assumed I knew it all. How hard could pushing color coded buttons be? All I had to do was hand out drinks, right?! The manager called me and told me I was "on" for Halloween... like he was giving me a gift. I was excited about this shift (and really bummed) because I knew the tips would be good... and I haven't seen a paycheck since we moved here. "Hungry" is an understatement.
I thought there would be several waitresses on staff since Halloween is one of the busiest nights of the year and they'd never have the new girl with NO experience handling half of the bar... much to my surprise, it was me and one other server along with 4 bartenders for a HUGE bar (with two bars inside). I had at least 200 people in my section at one time. No experience, 200 people, Halloween, line out the door, weird costumes and too much alcohol. I was in trouble. I acted like I knew what I was doing, punching away orders on the touch screen computer and delivering drinks through the sea of slutty costumes and guys in big wigs. At one point (ok, various and several points) I had to take a breather to fight of the tears forming in my eyes from stress and frustration. By the end of the night I was exhausted, shaking and $250 richer in tips from working for 5 hours. It's like a drug... so I agreed to work again today.
I think this whole waitress/bartending/bar/alcohol/flirty with old guys thing just might be alright - for now. I don't know how long I can do the two-jobs-at-one-time act, but for now it has been great to meet new people, take a shot of tequila at the end of a long day (pretty sure I'll never do that in an office at my day job...) and make a little extra cash. Next misson: Get Jen a job there too. Seattle will take over...
I went in last Wednesday to learn the computers and shadow another waitress, and after two hours I assumed I knew it all. How hard could pushing color coded buttons be? All I had to do was hand out drinks, right?! The manager called me and told me I was "on" for Halloween... like he was giving me a gift. I was excited about this shift (and really bummed) because I knew the tips would be good... and I haven't seen a paycheck since we moved here. "Hungry" is an understatement.
I thought there would be several waitresses on staff since Halloween is one of the busiest nights of the year and they'd never have the new girl with NO experience handling half of the bar... much to my surprise, it was me and one other server along with 4 bartenders for a HUGE bar (with two bars inside). I had at least 200 people in my section at one time. No experience, 200 people, Halloween, line out the door, weird costumes and too much alcohol. I was in trouble. I acted like I knew what I was doing, punching away orders on the touch screen computer and delivering drinks through the sea of slutty costumes and guys in big wigs. At one point (ok, various and several points) I had to take a breather to fight of the tears forming in my eyes from stress and frustration. By the end of the night I was exhausted, shaking and $250 richer in tips from working for 5 hours. It's like a drug... so I agreed to work again today.
I think this whole waitress/bartending/bar/alcohol/flirty with old guys thing just might be alright - for now. I don't know how long I can do the two-jobs-at-one-time act, but for now it has been great to meet new people, take a shot of tequila at the end of a long day (pretty sure I'll never do that in an office at my day job...) and make a little extra cash. Next misson: Get Jen a job there too. Seattle will take over...
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