It’s the Service Industry, Not the Sex Industry

I spent many years working in bars and restaurants while I put myself through several years of academia. I was a hostess for a bit when I was too young to serve alcohol, then a waitress and once people learned I was not so skilled at carrying a tray but pretty good at chatting up drunks, they put me behind the bar. I’ve always thought about writing a book called Shit I Hear at the Bar because let me tell you, you can pick up on some interesting conversations when people think the barkeep is too busy making drinks and spearing olives to listen to their conversation. Most of the topics of these (not so private) conversations, or conversations I was pulled into, somehow involved sex. The things people said to me and propositioned me to do lead me to believe that people have a misconception about the service industry. Just because we may be willing to act a little nicer for a bigger tip, does not parlay into a career in prostitution.

Granted, the people who work in the service industry are as a group, a lot hotter than the general population. Do you think that’s a mistake? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve chosen to go to Bar A over Bar B based solely on the fact that I can get my Jameson served to me by a more beautiful man at Bar A. So I can see why we get hit on more than the average person. Also, it’s part of our job to talk to you, make you feel comfortable, get you drunk and get you to come again (no pun intended here). I guess all of this is a formula for the stories I’m about to share…

More often than not when I was hit on at the bar, it was by a couple who was out hunting for their third for the evening. It happened ALL THE TIME at one particular place I worked at which lead me to believe it was a swinger spot. I had a group of regulars that would come in – all couples in their late 30’s – early 40’s who loved me and the other guy I would usually work with. They nicknamed us “Mamasota” and “Papasote” and they would always be a little flirty. One night after a few too many mojitos the ringleader of the group pulled me aside and asked me “Hey, can we get our check and then can you come to a hotel with us?” I dropped the check and politely declined their not so tempting offer.

Another time a couple, or what I assumed was a couple, came to the bar and the guy started hitting on me right in front of the girl he came with. This made me a tad uncomfortable and confused because she didn’t really seem to get angry, she just kept looking at her phone. Then another male friend met up with the couple and he started hitting on me as well. I thought I couldn’t be more confused by the situation until the girl passed me a note scribbled on a napkin that said “We (this was underlined about 8 times) think you’re very attractive and want to hang out later. If you’re not interested, we’ll leave you alone but if you are, please call me when you finish your shift and we’ll meet for a drink and see where the night takes us. I guarantee you won’t regret it.” I once again politely declined the invitation to participate in group sex with people I knew nothing more about than their drink preferences.

One of our regulars was a B list, VERY attractive celebrity who shall remain nameless (but I will say he was on Dancing with the Stars) used to come in and occasionally hunt for someone to bring home to his wife. He seemed to be equally interested in the male and female employees as one day we concurred that about 8 out of 10 of us (2 bartenders, 2 waitresses, 2 waiters, a hostess and a busboy) had been propositioned for a threesome by him. Many of us also concurred that we were slightly tempted being that he was incredibly hot and could obviously rock the Mambo and were thinking that meant he could rock the Mattress Mambo, but some of us shared the opinion that we would not be at all interested in his wife. For me it was because she was a woman, others didn’t find her quite as attractive as him.

No, the anonymous celebrity wasn't Jake Pavelka, 

but he does win the award for the most obnoxious Bachelor ever.

These are just a few highlights from my time in the service industry. I have been hit with every corny and offensive line in the book, and been asked countless times if my boobs were real, if I was into women, if I was into black guys, if I was single (upon answering yes was then asked what I do for sexual pleasure) and if I would get up and dance on the bar if they got the DJ to play “my song.” It was a lot to endure for the amount of money I made, but in the end it made for some great stories.

Ich bin ein Stälker

One night after finishing my shift bartending at a restaurant in downtown Manhattan, I went out to a local bar with some coworkers. I saw a cute guy standing at the bar with a couple of his friends and gave him the eye. A few minutes later we locked eyes again so I decided to say hello. I was laying it on pretty thick so he decided to ditch his friends and come hang out with me and mine at the bar next door. We chatted it up and I found out he was 29, single and from Germany and visiting NY for the week. He proceeded to tell me I was a “very aggressive American woman” and asked me to step outside with him. Then he became the aggressor and pinned me up against the wall as we made out passionately. (For the record, I wasn’t complaining or resisting). We were all over each other that night and when it came time for us to part ways I made a quick Irish exit and hopped in a cab, without giving him any contact information. I figured I had had my fun with him and he was only in town for a week and didn’t think twice about it.

The next night, I’m closing up the bar and chatting with my two friends at work when in walks my German suitor. My mouth was agape as he approached the bar and I realized that in my drunken stupor last night I must have mentioned where I worked. My friends could feel the tangible awkwardness of the situation (they had been out with us the night before) and said “Yeeaaa, we’re gonna go.” He stayed at the bar enjoying drinks (which I later learned he had no intention of paying for) and giving me the eye as I closed up the bar. I figured he wasn’t just gonna leave when I did last call. He waited for me to lock up the cash in the office and assumed we were hanging out after my shift. As we walked around the village he would stop me and passionately kiss me in the middle of the street, to which I would respond “What the hell are you doing?” prompting laughter from the man in earshot who was walking his dog. I tried to relax a little and live in the moment and we end up hanging out over pizza and beer and getting to know each other. He told me the reason he was in NY was because he’s in law school in Germany and part of his program involves an international internship which could be done in NY so he wanted to check it out. At the end of the night he asked me if he could please see me again before he left. I told him I would call him when I got home from class at 10 the following night and then I would come to the city.

Cut to 10:00 on the dot the following night. My phone rings and it’s this guy telling me he’s in Queens and asks how he gets to me. Flabbergasted I told him to take a cab to a café near my place (there was no way I was letting this guy come into my home). When I get to the café I notice he’s in a shitty mood and I immediately regretted my decision to meet up with this guy. I reluctantly asked what was the matter and he said he was very upset that he was leaving “not knowing where this was going.” I looked at him inquisitively and asked what he was talking about. He said he didn’t know if this was just an affair or if maybe we could end up together in the future. He told me that when he was visiting my borough today and saw lots of nice houses and imagined us living together in one someday. Why I didn’t sprint out the door at this point is a question I ask myself to this day. A map would’ve come in handy for my rebuttal as I pointed out that we had only been hanging out a few days and I live in NY and he lives in Germany with an entire ocean in between us. He asked if we could please stay in touch and I said OK thinking that meant exchange an email once every few months.

The call is coming from inside the house.

Over the next few weeks he proceeded to call me on Skype every few days and in a sick way I kind of started to think he was sweet and funny and worth staying in touch with. He invited me to Germany which I considered because I love to travel. I then told him that I was going to Miami with my girlfriends for a few days and I would speak to him when I got back because I was going to be busy and I wouldn’t have my computer. He called me on my second day there and was angry because he hadn’t heard from me and wanted to know if I was alive. I reminded him that I told him I would speak to him when I got back to NY and ended the conversation as my friends looked at me like “Who the EFF was that??” Over the next month our conversations became fewer and further between and I thought I was finally closing the chapter on this guy.

Two months later I was bartending at the rooftop bar of the same restaurant. A guy I was seeing was there having a drink before he had to go to work. I was closing a check on the computer but sensed that a customer had come in and was waiting for me to serve them a drink. I turned around and it was my German stalker in the flesh. I literally turned white as a ghost and I asked him what he was doing here. “I came to surprise you,” he said. Clearly my reaction wasn’t what he was hoping for and he then added that he “may have an interview for an internship on Monday as well.” He ended up staying the rest of my shift, just a couple seats down from the guy I was seeing. I was on the verge of a heart attack because I was worried that the German might throw the other guy off the roof if he got an inkling we were dating. My friend who I was bartending with knew what was going on and asked me if he wanted him to kick the German out. I said no because now I was thinking that I must’ve lead this guy on and now he flew all the way to NY for me and I had no desire to see him.

Feeling this guilt, I hung out with him that night after my shift and made arrangements to get my shift covered on Monday so we could spend the day together (still asking myself why I did this). On Monday I met up with him and took him out to lunch (still feeling guilty) and then we spent most of the day together. I honestly don’t remember much of the conversation because in my head I was flipping out about him being there in the first place and I was trying to figure out a way to end things with him that wouldn’t cause a psychotic reaction. We went to a bar and I decided this would be a good place to end things as there were witnesses around if he tried to attack me. I told him that coming here this weekend was a very sweet gesture but it was totally out of the blue and he should’ve checked with me before doing that. I said I thought he was reading into our “relationship” a bit too much and shouldn’t have done something so grandiose. He insisted he really came for his interview but the guy cancelled last minute. (I’m sorry but you don’t cancel on a student who flew internationally to be there so I knew that interview was fictitious). I kept trying to get this guy to see that he was taking this whole thing with me too seriously when I wasn’t really interested. He kept saying I was misunderstanding him so finally I said “Listen, I think you like me a LOT more than I like you.” After my "It's not me, it's you" speech, he still didn’t get it so we said goodbye and that’s the last I spoke to him.

Are you sure you want to block this person? Damn sure, Facebook!

 

That was not however, the last time he spoke to me. He preceded to call, text, Skype, email and Facebook me for months. I stopped picking up my phone when I saw an international number, blocked him on Skype and on Facebook but he would still try to text me for YEARS. This whole thing went down in the Spring of 2009 and I got a text from him just a few months ago. There’s seriously something wrong with this guy. At least it made for an interesting story.

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, Unless you have Facebook

Seriously this city needs to change its slogan. It's the 21^st century. If you end up topless in the fountain outside Caesar's Palace on a Saturday night in Vegas (never happened, I swear) you can pretty much bet the farm that your sweet Granny who just signed up for this new thing called "Facebook" is going to read/see/hear all about it as she sits at her computer with her Sunday morning coffee. Thank you smart phones and the things we decide to post in our drunken stupors.

On my first trip to Vegas, with my fun, ferocious female life partner we stopped by San Diego on our way to see one of her friends. He knew her very well and upon meeting me declared within 5 minutes: “You two should not be allowed to go to Vegas together. I cannot imagine the shit you're gonna get into this weekend. There should be a law forbidding you two from venturing there together, matter of fact there probably will be after this weekend.” And we were like two pigs in a big sty of shit known as the Vegas Strip. I'd have a lot more to write about that weekend if I could only remember. Ironically enough I was reading I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell that weekend and thought to myself that I could certainly write my own version of that.
 
The second time my partner in crime and I ventured to Vegas we vowed to be calmer in our pursuits of a fun weekend. We figured being a couple years older we had gotten all that out of our systems. That shit went right out the window and another weekend of debauchery ensued.  I definitely earned a one way ticket to hell that weekend while I pursued a steadfast, 24-hour Jameson diet.

I promise this isn't me.

I’m very fortunate to have met / gone with people on my Vegas adventures who value that sanctity of NOT posting every scandalous detail of the weekend on Facebook, Twitter, etc. Thank you my dear friends, you know who you are.

Moral of the story kiddies is that while letting loose in Vegas is all good and fun (after all, the city’s entire economy is based on the abundance of alcohol coupled with a lack of morals) but certain things will follow you home: pictures, videos, drunken voicemails left on unsuspecting answering machines, unplanned pregnancies and good ol’ herpes. So you bes’ check yourself before you wreck yourself and it ends up on the news feed of all 792 of your nearest and dearest “friends.”

Living Social (and Single) & Group (Get it) On

The recession may have cut into your paycheck, but you can still get your mack on largely thanks to the recently emerged local deal sites like Group On and Living Social.

Every day my inbox is bombarded with daily deals for Manhattan and Queens. Among the usual suspects like "Laser Hair Removal" "Prix-Fix Italian Dinner" "Colonic Therapy" "Boudoir Photo Package" and "Ninja Sword Fighting Class" (I shit you not, I saw that one, should've saved it!) I've seen more and more events like speed dating and singles parties.

To me, this is just a tad bit outside my comfort zone, but I'm willing to try it. I see this is a nice little bridge between the 21st century and the old traditional methods (ah the good old days, what was that like?) Speaking of the 21st century, I've never quite warmed up to the idea of online dating. It's a plank I haven't walked yet. Nothing against anyone who's into that: I think it's a sign of the times and makes a lot of sense. Shit, had I decided to try it I probably wouldn't be writing about being single in NY for 5 years. And for every horror story I've heard I've received just as many wedding invitations that may as well read "Sponsored by Match.com" underneath where it says "Black Tie Optional"

Only in the name of research for my beloved readers, I recently bought tickets to 2 events. So stay tuned to find out the ins and outs of finding a mate through thrifty local online deals! If I go MIA after this it's safe to assume one of 2 things: 1) I found my soul mate so it works! or 2) I thought I found my soul mate but he turned out to be a psycho and I'm tied up in some basement somewhere in the 5 boroughs in a wedding dress reciting vows with a gun to my head (OK I need to stop watching so much Law & Order SVU). Fingers crossed for option #1.