Waitress.

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.