Last week, I was sent over to the fashion closet to help the style interns on a busy day. They had just finished shooting a story on the perfect pair of denim for every body (curvy, boyish, apple shaped, etc.), and now the remains of the project were stuffed in bags that popped out of every corner in the room.

Over 500 pairs of jeans had been surveyed in order to find the perfect few that would appear in the magazine, so you can imagine how much material I’m talking about here. I, along with the other intern I work with, was informed that all these jeans had to be separated by brand and then put in separate piles. After this we would send the jeans back to the PR companies that sent them to us.

Thus began my day of physical labor – if you think carrying huge piles of denim around in your arms all day isn’t heavy and tiring, you’re wrong – and I didn’t sit down until about 5 pm. I realized that these fashion girls were doing this every day as I sat placidly in front of my computer typing and web surfing! This got me to thinking about some of the jobs that require you to stand/lift/push/pull things all day long, and I decided to ask my friends with labor-intensive jobs for some funny stories.

Amusement Park
This summer, thanks to the totally sh*tty economy, one of my friends is working at a water park in New Jersey where she has to lift little children on and off a miniature waterslide all day long. The other day, a three year old peed on her in mid-air, and then the mother (standing behind the gate) proceeded to yell at my friend for making her daughter cry. Not to mention the fact that these water park pools and rides are probably filled with pee anyways, since little kids think its okay to let it all out wherever and whenever they please. Awesome. Read More »

[I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the epitome of prim and proper- heck, who really is nowadays? But looking around at the misguided youths of today *ahem drinking buddies*, I’m starting to think that Miss Manners might have been onto something.

While you may never need to know how to greet a duke or how to tell which fork is REALLY the oyster fork, knowing how to deal with people whom owe you money, how much to tip, and how to address the ever annoying licorice-in-teeth conundrum without being rude might actually come in handy in the real world. I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas. So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

I know that times are tough. The economy is in the dumper and our wallets are just getting emptier and emptier. These days it seems like I can’t turn a corner or walk into a bar without having to pay somebody something. Though I know it’s hard to choose between blowing your last dollars on another pitcher of beer or tipping the bartender, as a one-time waitress, I would never ever suggest skimping on tips. These service providers work hard (usually on a tiny salaries) and their paychecks rely heavily on your tips.

The other day, I was appalled when after ordering a heap-load of Chinese food, a “friend” of mine flicked the delivery guy a quarter and closed the door. A quarter. As in twenty-five cents. I literally had to chase down the guy and shove a few dollars at him. When I confronted her, she said she wasn’t sure how much to tip. I called bullsh*t, but it got me wondering if this is a real problem for a lot of people. So in case you were wondering, here is a tipping cheat sheet on who to tip and how much to tip them.

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It is no secret that college is expensive. Even if you get scholarship money, you still have to cover the books, the clothes, and everything else that comes with college life.

Some people are fortunate enough to have everything covered, but those college students who are on their own are forced to seek employment on or around campus. Usually for minimum wage.

I watched many friends as they sat in class all morning, in the library all afternoon and at their crappy work-study jobs all night, every night. They missed out on bonding time, parties and even student groups on campus, and still barely had enough money to get by. I know that college is all about learning, but it sucks to miss out on the rest of college life. There is a lot to be learned outside the classroom (like your drinking limit!).

But what if there were a better option? What if someone could make enough money to get by without sitting at the check-out desk of the library 6 nights a week? What if you could make enough money to learn and enjoy college without spending game-days serving burgers to drunk students?

It’s as easy as getting a sugar-daddy.

Melissa Beech, tired of working retail and waiting tables, did just that. “During my job hunt, I met a potential employer. He was in his early thirties, single and successful. He didn’t hire me, but he did suggest a position that seemed perfectly suited to my attributes and skills: he proposed that he become my benefactor.”

Some people consider Melissa’s “job” to be prostituion, but she doesn’t agree; I call it a ‘mutually beneficial arrangement’ that pays for my killer wardrobe.”

What do you think? Is this the answer we have all been looking for, or is this simply a real-life Pretty Woman?

I am sorry.

As it seems, I am currently suffering from a WICKED case of PMS. I have never really fallen victim to this monthly debacle, but in the last 24 hours I have felt overwhelmingly compelled to freak out on nearly everyone I have come into contact with, and, well, have.

For that, I’d like to make amends.

My dear, sweet boyfriend:

Sorry for freaking out on you after you felt compelled to repeat – verbatim – nearly the entire dialog from “Tropic Thunder.” I know you enjoyed the movie, and in a sick way enjoyed how irritated it made me for you to continue doing it, but that was no excuse to smack you on the arm with the blunt force of a car crash then scream at you like a fire-breathing dragon. It was mortifying to see you look so terrified of me.

Waitress at the Goose:

I understand how it can be working in food service; I have been there too, sister. With that in mind, I am sorry for being a total bitch after finding out we were merely 4 minutes late to order food last night. Sure, my eye rolling and walking out of the restaurant without a comment to you was rude, but, in my defense, I had just spent 2 hours watching “Tropic Thunder” and was famished. If I didn’t eat something soon, I was going to lose it and my poor boyfriend was going to be my target practice. I’m sorry for being so rude. In hindsight hanging around, having a few pitchers and enjoying the quick buzz may have been exactly what I needed. Read More »

I’m convinced that food service has to be the first circle of hell.

When I was an undergrad, I worked at a local restaurant for about two years until my manager caught me trying to drown myself in a deep fryer (okay, so maybe not. But I sure thought about it). One night during homecoming (also known as our busiest night of the whole freaking year, folks!) this guy asked me for another set of silverware and I told him very genially that he could grab a set from the very next table. I was delivering food to a huge table now, mind you, so I couldn’t very well bend over, pick up the silverware and hand it to this guy.

He looked like I had slapped him and his wife exclaimed “You are so rude! How dare you speak to a man that way!” In my nicest waitress voice, I said, “Well excuse me, I’ve got to get back into the kitchen, where I belong.” and, under my breath, “Don’t choke on your food, now!”

If only I had known about Bitterwaitress.com then! It’s a website where waitresses can go to share their customer horror stories and list their crappiest tippers. There is often the odd encounter with a rude celebrity recounted on the website, too, like this run-in with Dan Marino, who, according to the waitress, tried to charge kids for his autographs. Read More »

Hooters? Depressing? You don’t say. All I’ve ever had to do was take a look at the horrible orange and white paint job adorning the outside of most Hooters restaurants to know those places are a bevy of bad taste and depression.

Oh yeah, and fifteen year olds.

In my town, Hooters was the place adolescent boys with fake IDs and too much cologne spent their Friday nights when no one their own age would date them.

Hooters was the place high school’s biggest assholes went to feel superior to women who would never look at them in real life, as well as the place a friend’s friend once tried to work at but quit after some perv threw a popcorn shrimp at her boobs.

In conclusion: Hooters is drenched in grossness. Read More »

I was sitting in a diner yesterday with a couple of friends, when two of the guys I was with got to talking about how they were certain that they could hit on/go home with/bang the hell out of their waitress. Apparently, their waitress had been giving them the eyes from the moment they sat down, and, while they didn’t feel that she was most attractive girl they’d ever seen, or even the most attractive waitress they’d been served by this weekend, they both thought it’d be fun to see if they could pull off the pick-up.

As it happens, trying to pick up waitresses is truly one of the fun pastimes for a lot of guys, because the waitress/customer relationship eliminates the potentially awkward and messy scene that often plays out when a guy tries to approach a random girl. In a restaurant, where the waitress typically starts the conversation, a guy will be more at ease, and will usually be much more comfortable spitting the proverbial game

Now, as far as I know, there is no correct way to try and pick up a server. The usual and easiest course of action is simply to get a pen and write your name and number on the receipt or a business card and then hope for the best. I’m not saying that this method is always successful; in fact, it almost never works. But if you’re going to try and pick up the person who is bringing you bacon and eggs, a witty note with a phone number is generally the best course of action. All of which brings me back to yesterday.

One of the guys, who we’ll call Guy A, wanted to write down his digits, but no one in our party had a pen. Instead of simply asking another employee for a pen (because, c’mon, that would have been FAR too easy), Guys A and B proceed to hatch what may have been the most elaborate (and idiotic) plan that I’ve ever heard. Read More »

Forget birth control, forget condoms. I have found IT. And by IT I mean the foolproof way to stop teenage/unwanted pregnancies, stop the spread of std’s, hell–it might even stop you from wanting to have sex (I said might). Okay, all of the above may put Maury Povich out of a job- but I’m pretty sure my idea is like, uh, genius. How come no one has ever thought of this before? Sure all those conservative-good-Christian-political people preach teaching abstinence only education as a way to stop std’s and pregnancies out of wedlock (which is clearly not working in this country) and those a bit more liberal preach the importance of teaching safe sex practices and forms of birth control. I am not discounting that. BUT I do think my idea is a fantabulous new way to put a halt to this “who’s my baby-daddy” nonsense going on in our society right now.

Where did this brilliant idea come from? Wellllll, moving back home for the summer has made my Friday and Saturday nights … different (to say the least). I have traded in shots and bar crawls for yoga class and early bird movies. Partayyy, I know. The past two nights, I have seen Knocked Up and Waitress, both which have given me the inspiration for a new found form of birth-control. Read More »

I am the queen of summer jobs and internships.

I have done everything from chase kids around in nurseries to waitressing to getting covered in dirt in a greenhouse to working in a tiny cubicle in a Manhattan talent office to running errands for a crazy agent to making pizza for one day.

Looking back, there are so many things I wish I could have told my little 19 year old self during her first foray into living alone and interning in New York City. One of those things would be to never eat the coleslaw in any restaurant (they totally reuse that shit), but I would also tell her how to deal with completely psychotic bosses and why it’s okay to lie to certain part time employers. Read More »