Giving up my nights out was not something I was especially prepared to do when I started scouring my college town for a job; who wants to be folding clothes amidst an asthma-inducing Abercrombie cologne cloud late into the evening when your girls are out at $1 pitcher night? Nobody.
That’s why I became a cocktail waitress.
Well, that and I heard Tiger Woods George Clooney was fond of them.
Naturally, I see a lot of…er… interesting, for lack of a better word, things during the late night shifts. Things that I know I’ve been guilty of doing, and that all you CC ladies are probably guilty of, as well. Believe me, your signature twist+bend and snap combo dance moves do not look as sexy as you think, even if that drunk frat boy tells you they are. And as good as Journey is, “Don’t Stop Believing” is not “the best song of all effing time!!”
Because our thoughts tend to be a little muddled when we’re a few sheets to the stale bar air wind, I thought I’d help everyone see just what a typical drunken night is from a more honest (read: sober) perspective. So join me as we analyze things (hey, we’re all friends here!) from both sides of the crowded bar.
Your Point of View: It’s 11:00pm and you and your friends raced into the bar in 5 inch heels because it’s winter in the Midwest and coats are a pain in the buttcheeks to carry around. The warm air inside brings out a sigh of the relief.
My Point of View: GIRL you must be KIDDING. IT’S WINTER IN THE MIDWEST! Except I’ll tell you that I never wear coats out either and no, your nose isn’t running that bad! Oh, and that happy sigh you made when feeling came back to your fingers sounded more like a cross between the sound I make when I see spider (EEEE!) and when I see a hot Mexican with a beard (ughhhYES).
Your POV: Shots! Shots! Shots! Shotshotshots! I LOVE shots and I LOVE this song!
My POV: I would literally be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone ordered shots from me in that manner. A billionaire if I got an additional dollar every time people sang that just to get my attention and then order something completely different.
Your POV: Cutie alert at ‘clock! Take a quick selfie to see if you’re still looking as hot as you were when you left.
My POV: Much like how a car loses value when you drive it off the lot, all of the effort you put into looking good starts to depreciate when you walk in the bar. There’s no way around it. It’s going to be hot, you’re going to sweat, your perfect hair poof is going to fall flat (unless you’re Snookie, of course), and drinks are going to fall on you. Let’s just all take a second and give thanks to the very forgiving bar lighting.
Your POV: Yes, 4 0’clock cutie noticed you. He walks over, says he remembers you from class, and buys you a drink. Things are going great, so great that you invite him on the dance floor. And if his moves are good (and he buys you a few more rum and diets), maybe you’ll invite him back to your apartment.
My POV: First off, he does not remember you from class. He just chose a random gen ed, like Elementary Psych, because it has 500+ people in the lecture and there was a good chance you took it too. Second, his moves are def not good, but in the back of your head you knew it didn’t matter anyway. Third, men aren’t always good to you, but burritos always are. If he won’t offer to pay for your drunchies after all those drinks he handed out, don’t take him anywhere near your abode.
Your POV: Bartender yells “Last call!” and you get a huge group hug going to tell your girls how much you love them and how you all need to get together again next weekend. You talk afties and Pokey Stix when suddenly all of the lights go on. And suddenly 4 0’clock cutie isn’t looking too good.
My POV: This is by far the best part of my night. Since drink orders are done, it’s my chance to sit back, relax, take a shot with the bartender, and admire all that is going on around me. The look of horror that come over faces as soon as the lights turn on is priceless; just when you thought you were surrounded by hotties in a hip night club, you realize that theses “hotties” are covered in pit stains and your fake tan is running down your face. And that “hip night club” is just a dirty, windowless basement. With dirty bathroom water on the floor.
What a great way to end the night. Now it’s time for me to head home and enjoy my Jimmy Johns #12 with Say Yes to the Dress on DVR.