Going up on a Tuesday …

This entry is dedicated to my Miami trip woes… and to cherry with a “T” wherever  you are….

The perks of working weekends is the ability to take a mid week vacation! I literally just came home from a three day get away in Miami. Nothing like 80 degree weather in February while all your friends and family are freezing back home.Just kidding, but it was amaze balls.
I’ve only been to SoBe once. When I was 16 years old. Yea, not too much partying going on. Although my friends dad did buy us shots of tequila at dinner. Sorry mom. Oh, and I did come home with my belly button pierced. Oops.

This trip was something out of the ordinary. I got to travel with my best friend , of 20 years,  for the first time ever! Along with six other fun chicks. We laughed. We drank. We conquered. 

Our home for 48 hours was at the Clevelander right on South Beach. Beautiful place and amazing staff! Insert my yelp review here. 

Although I was not impressed with customer service at some of the other places. Especially Dream nightclub. The night we were there, I believe “Gronk” from the New England Patriots was also there. Totally irrelevant,  I just wanted to feel cool so I’ll throw that out there. The only good thing at that club was contact high. People we’re smoking weed like we were in Amsterdam.


 

Anyways, as a well known spot celebs can be seen at, I thought the bottle servers could have been a little more on there A game. Especially since the chic we were with was hosting the party. Plus she’s a famous IG model. (Instagram.) I mean duh can we get some service over here ? I guess I expected them to be better. 
I only notice these things because I use to be a bottle server and I’ve been in the customer service industry forever. Usually as a bottle server you make the drinks for your guests. It was pretty beat that they dropped off the bottles and left. One of the girls I was with took over and played the bartender.You go girl. The best was when I asked for water for one of my drunken friends. I was thinking nice places back home give out VOSS water. Nope. No VOSS here! Just Zepheryllis  or whatever Floridas Shop Rite version is. I’m being boujie. 

https://youtu.be/S-sJp1FfG7Q 

Moving on, walking down the strip on the resturant side is like walking through the mall. Your trying to shop and look at stores. Usually your on a mission or know what your looking for. Until you get harassed by some lady or man, who wants to feel your hand and tell you how soft their lotion will make your skin feel. Possibly how straight they can get your hair. Well people, this is exactly how it is walking down Ocean drive by all the restaurants. They are offering every deal you can think of. “Hi ladies come sit. Happy  hour, two for one drinks, fifty percent off the whole menu, free shots, here’s a puppy , here’s a happy ending whatever you want.” I mean at first I laughed my ass off  but after the 40th restaurant promoter I had to cross the street. Much more peaceful and prettier. Palm trees everywhere and did I mention it was 80 degrees ? 

In between being inebriated we did manage to eat at some great places.    
We ate at two amazing spots! A Cuban place right off the strip, Puerto Sagua Resturant. (So good we went there twice.)

http://yelp.to/qTKq/syysYwQuIA 

and the Big Pink. Super trendy diner. 

http://instagram.com/bigpinkmiami

Seriously mouth watering food! A+ service. Check them out if your ever in South Beach!

I learned two things while on this spontaneous girls trip: Don’t talk to strangers unless they are buying all your drinks and don’t step on purple jelly fish. Unless you want a washed up, Neyo look-a -like, beach rat to offer to pee on you. How sweet? 

Cheers! 

Mild.Medium.Hot

In honor of the Super Bowl I’ll share some times from good old Hooters. Way back when I was skinny. What screams football more than your favorite wings? 

Football season was a pretty cool time while working at Hooters. Aside from being in the weeds and seventy five people are asking to put “their” specific game on. That was the worst part. Sure, let me go race around the restaurant to find my manager, to get the remote , to finagle this pre-set tv station, and deliver fries that are getting cold in the food window. All while not trying to piss another table off who is already watching “their team.” 

Once everyone was content and the games were all to everyone’s preference, the shift would go by pretty smooth. We would call football fans “campers.” They drink, eat, and stay all day. The only down side: you better pray that you get your twenty percent tip. Since the same people have taken up your station for 6 hours. Definitely no room for turning tables over. Typically we would have some regulars so we would make money. Regulars, as most know in this biz, tend to tip well. We love our regulars! 

(Typical table ten photo)

Let’s move on to the wings. When you’ve memorized something and have said it for so long it sticks with you. How would you like your wings ? Mild, medium, hot, 3mile or 911? Great, I’m craving wings now. Rarely people order past hot so we shorten it up, remember time is money in this  biz. The faster I can take your order the faster I can flip this table and make more money. Of course with exceptional service, you’ll never feel rushed at all. Unless it’s 1:45 am on a Saturday night and we close at 2! You might want to consider  hitting up the 24 hour Mc Donald’s. Seriously , word of advice don’t be rude and go eat somewhere that’s almost about to close. You never want angry people handling your food. Not me, but like angry cooks. I love food way to much to mess around with anybody else’s. 
Cheers ! 

Instant violation …

I dedicate this entry to Tiff and Beth….

In this industry you deal with the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes there are super normal people and other times there are creepy ones. Tonight’s story is about the creepy ones. The perverts who you just sceeve. That might not be a word but where I’m from it means something that makes your skin crawl or makes you want to vomit.

 

 

Let’s name the guy after his drink, Beer. I would see Beer in different stations and I knew he was a regular customer. I never paid much attention to him, only when talking his order of course. Until one shift I was covering a co-workers station. She gave me Beers order before I left the bar.  We usually ask for a description so we know where to go. So when I asked “Where am I going with this drink?” her response was “You know, the creepy guy in smoking that stares at your crotch .” After I literally fell over laughing, I questioned her, “Stop. Really?” She told me I’d have to see for myself.

I walked over and I saw him right away because he was the first person in my view. In my head, I’m going over everything I just learned. As I get closer I call out, “Heineken ?” At the same exact time my voice carried over to him , he squints over his glasses and looks directly down below! Completely obvious and for more then 5 seconds. Instant violation! I wanted to hold the Heineken down there and wave it around like, “Here ya go sir, here’s  your beverage !” Obviously I couldn’t. I mean my gyno doesn’t even make me feel this uncomfortable. I avoid that appointment as much as possible.

As soon as I saw my friend all I could do was shake my head. “Wow!” I thought to myself. I’ve never felt so violated in my life! Well, this is in the top ten. It’s not like my women parts where even eye level with him. He blatantly just stared down there. Now, we wear dresses and black stockings. For the most part we are pretty covered up. Our dresses, well some , are lengthy too. I couldn’t help but just laugh it off. Could he even see anything ? Maybe he has a weird eye condition and can’t look anywhere else. I tried to be nice and make up excuses for him. Whatever, so I carried on with my night. He earned himself a new name after this, vagina creeper.

Once the word got out about his pervertedness, none of the girls believed it either. They  also had to learn on their own. One of my favorite cocktail severs, let’s call her Michelle , thought we were totally making this up. Then she came back over to the bar in total disgust. “What’s he checking for ovaries ?” I died. Another co-worker yelled out , ” I bet he knows when we’re on the rag.”I died twice.  All we can do at this point is make fun of the guy. Which we’re so good at. We actually thought about sewing on a pair of eyes to our dress so we can stare back at him. 👀  Not really, but can you imagine? Again, we could be totally wrong and he could be suffering from an eye disorder. Nope. I still can’t sell that to myself, he’s a complete creep. It’s all part of the environment I guess.

Disclosure:  Even though we aren’t warned of these types of people  in the fine  print of our contracts, we do have to be aware and alert for our safety. Which we are at all times.

 

Cheers !

‘Tis the season

Last night was the worst night ever, to wear Spanx. (Aka girdle aka make me look skinny please.) I was in quite the festive mood for work. I did my hair in bow and put on some red lipstick to get this holiday weekend started. Why not try to look skinny and throw on my Spanx? Bad idea.

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You see , my co workers and I celebrated Christmas a little early. We don’t do this often, but when we do, we feast! Everyone pitched in and brought trays full of deliciousness. We had home-made Spanish pork (pernil), empanadas, flan, buffalo chicken dip, bruschetta and more. What’s a holiday party without every single christmas cookie one can think of? My favorite are the snowball ones with the powdered sugar. A huge thanks to all the grandmothers, without you these cookie recipes would not be possible. I ate so much that I nearly exploded. Yes, I broke a seven deadly sin, gluttony. Then I had to break out of my Spanx! My food baby almost suffocated. The way our service bar is set up (Kevin hart voice) I had to hide behind it and frantically remove my undergarments. Thank the lord above for good friends who help you get naked and to the ones who block anyone from entering the scene. Luckily the service bar was closed. Had it not been the Friday before Christmas, the bartenders would have seen a show. It was pretty hysterical. All because I can’t put the fork down. Needless to say, we had a great night feasting.

Those patrons who decided to spend the night gambling and drinking were actually pretty generous too. One lady kept order champagne in a tall glass. Typically customers are giving a regular rocks glass. My girl clearly was trying to get in the spirit. I call her my girl because she kept tipping me five dollars. I was jolly right along with her.

‘Tis the season.

Happy Holidays Everyone !

‘Twas the week before Christmas …

It’s Tuesday and I always like to recap my prevoius work week. Well here it goes:

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house …. it was dead. The week before Christmas is always rough in this industry. No one is out spending money at the casino. Although there are a few exceptions:

1. People who do not celebrate Christmas.
2. Those who have a degenerate gambling problem.(NO names)
3. Folks who want to get away from their spouses.( NO names)
4. Those selfish friends that throw their bachelorette party around the holidays.
5. All the kids turning 21 this week.

Actually this sounds busy. Yet, our tip cups were not. The big money week starts the day after Christmas. Hallelujah baby Jesus! People want to get out of the house and away from the in laws. This is the time where they can spend their Christmas cash. A time when they can drink the pain away from all the holiday stress. The children are out of school and the grandparents are in town to babysit. People feel more generous now that they don’t have to save every dollar for gifts. Plus, with the new year around the corner the air is lighter. Still full of cigarette smoke, but the vibe is much nicer. By nature, everyone wants to get in the last horrah before they wipe away their sins for the new year. Usually, until their resolutions wear off, then they will be back. Basically, after Christmas week I’ll be able to afford a few extra pedicures in January. Which is reason enough for me to be excited.

Happy Holidays!

Yours Truly,
Confessions of a cocktail server


(Here’s me and my empty station)

Hot yoga …. no bueno 

Today was a first. Today I tried hot yoga. I almost died. I can barely balance a full tray of drinks let alone balance my body during tree pose. I love yoga though. I’ve done it about ten times and loved it. This time was different. The room was 90 degrees. No offense, but I can’t get with the hot yoga trend. Heat is my bestie, on the beach with a frozen drink in hand.

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This was torture. I feel like the instructor might have been carded by me at some point. This was total pay back. I should have served her that  Long Island ice tea. I kept going back and forth in my mind. What did I do to deserve such pain? All of the stretching, lifting,holding,twisting in this heated room was a nightmare. Not to mention the movements had names. What the hell is a half pigeon?  I felt like I was cheating on a test. Was I the only one who didn’t get the study guide before class? I copied off anyone I could. I wish you could have seen me. No bueno.

After my work week, I always wake up feeling like I was hit by a mac truck. I’m not exaggerating here. You won’t really understand until you wear two inch heels, while carrying a tray of glass ware, up and down a casino floor. Therefore, it is important to take care of myself. That is why I agreed to go to yoga today. Sounded like a good idea, seemed legit. I thought it would be relaxing and good for me. I failed.

Moving on, I’m going to see my massage therapist. This is more my speed, my speed is zero. I want to be laying down while doing absolutely nothing. If you are a cocktail server you should have one of these, along with a Chiropracter, on speed dial. (Oops I just dated myself.) I mean Siri should know these two contacts by heart. Actually, every human should have these two wonderful people in there life.

Cheers to a relaxing weekend for those of you who are off. The rest of us have to work.

Happy Friday!

Bacon.

Serving cocktails isn’t rocket science, so why when ordering one it is? The expression “time is money” is the slogan in this biz. The more drinks I can pump out the more bacon I’m bringing home. Yum, now I’m hungry.
If you can’t tell me your drink order in less then 1.5 seconds, I’m screwed. Just kidding, but there is a white cloud over my head filled with dollars signs drifting away. Where’s that emoji with the dollars signs and wings?
💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸

The best is when they ask “What do you have ?”
I think to myself , “Well we have an entire bar, would you like me to bring it to you?”

The casino business is usually fast paced. I don’t have much time to strike up a conversation or bring you the wine list that we don’t have. I do operate fast, friendly, and efficient (incase my boss is reading).

I take the time to learn your drink. I feel like remembering your drink is more personal. Plus, customers get off on it. Leave your birth name at the door. Your drink becomes your identity. It also becomes our code language between cocktail servers. We can talk about how annoying, how great , or when you need to be flagged , Mr. Vodka Cran. We get off on that.

During my time served, I mean the time I’ve been serving, I’ve grown fond of a few customers. If you’re lucky you will read about them later.

Currently my favorite is v.o water and Seagrams 7 with 7 up. ( Side note:frequent flyers do not order this way. I broke it down for any non industry readers.)

She is a lady that knows what she wants. She orders for herself and the husband, who I have yet to see. Maybe he doesn’t even exist. She probably hustles me for two drinks…

I have served her over 100 times. Verbatim she calls out, “Make sure their doubles in a tall.” Decoded means she needs to be intoxicated as quickly as possible. I love predictable customers like her. They take the same drink every time. Makes my life easier, makes me more bacon. 

(No bacon was harmed during this photo. It was eaten carefully by two cocktail servers and a bartender

change is good

Hello Monday,

You are the most hated day of the week. Yet, I love you Monday. You and Sunday are my faves! You are my Friday Saturday. This morning, I sat back sipped my coffee and read all about how much Mondays suck for all of humanity on Facebook. Sorry 9-5’s this is  payback for all your jolly TGIF posts.

Since its my Friday I started to clean. Fun, yes I know. I began with my dresser since it’s a cluster of bills, which I hate looking at. I came across my plastic cups full of change. This is the pit stop the change makes. I’m too lazy to walk into the closet and fill my water jug with them. You know like the water jugs you drink out of at the doctor’s office ? Yes. That kind. There’s about three plastic cups filled to the rim with change. Why all this change you ask?

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Well, it’s not from my purse. It’s from the tips of those who still think it’s 1950.The ones who think the slot machines, that talk to you,  still spit out coins from the bottom. The ones who think a phone call is still 10 cents. Wait, when is the last time you even saw a pay phone ? How did you get here sir, by horse? You do know the beer your drinking is about 5.50 at the bar and you’re getting it for free ?

(Side note: when you gamble at a casino you can order complimentary drinks. One per player and there are exceptions to what you can order. You must be playing meaning cash in machine people.)

One time this lady turned her purse inside out onto my tray. I literally picked LINT out of the pile of pennies. Maybe even a xanex. The best is when people have a guilty conscience. They will actually  say, “Sorry this is all I have .” Me “It’s ok thank you.” Translation uh no it’s not you have about 150 dollars in the slot machine. Not ok.

I try to boost my self-esteem with the mantra, “It adds up girl, it all spends the same.” In the back when the girls (aka co-workers) ask how was your station tonight? My response is always lets see how heavy my tip cup is. If it’s light, I’m winning. If it’s heavy you know what kind of night I had.

Now that my coins are in order and my life feels lighter,  I hope you all have, are having, or had a great Monday.

Love,

confessions of a cocktail server

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part one …

I like to think of myself as a professional. Excluding the fact that I can barely carry a full tray of  drinks through a crowded casino. A professional  in dealing with all kinds of crazy. You know eccentric, degenerate, kind, free loading, funny and the occasional douche bag drunks. Not all  lunatics are created equal. I always ask my self why don’t I have a hidden camera on me ! I decided to blog for now.

I had scored my first job in the food and beverage industry at the ripe age of 16 as a hostess. Perfectly ready to be molded into the ideal Hooter Girl . Fast forward,  I became nothing even close to the “girl next door” image. I mean clearly wearing booty shorts and a low-cut tank top screams girl next door. It was fun though. I have a billion stories to share. It was so grand that I worked there for 9 years! Just kidding. I was stuck by the hooter claw that grabs onto you for life because you can pick your own schedule. I was in and out of college during those years, it really just worked best and I was way too comfortable there.

After 9 years of mild , medium or hot , I moved on to the club scene and sold ridiculous size bottles of grey goose. Total culture shock compared to the amount of work I had to do for a five dollar tip at good old hoots. I mean we had to sing songs, sign t-shirts, sell shit , and bus our own tables. Being a bottle server was like meeting the oasis in the desert. I just pranced around in my dress and three-inch heels while mixing drinks. More stories on that later.Unfortunately, there’s some weird law that states you can’t be a bottle server forever. Who ever made that one up needs to be fired.

So here we are my first little babble about working for dollars. Not those kind of dollars. Although it has crossed my mind after I’ve counted my tips on a Tuesday night in December.