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Sep. 10th, 2003 04:42 pmBack home...things are moving quickly.
I got a jolt of West Coast energy and possibility. What good a change of scene will do.
Sorry,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ignatzmouse & co., I quit the Blue Lady Lounge last night. I couldn't deal with the Big Brother family surveillance thing. For instance, the owner's mom telling me not to light the candles until it was fully dark, and his nephew (the barback) telling me not to turn the stereo on because it was a waste of electricity. In a BAR.
Also the old folks would sit around griping all afternoon, and if we put on any even slightly loud music or hip-hop, they would glare. And, if I put on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, the nephew would get all uncomfortable and feel compelled to make loud jokes about fags.
The last straw was having to tip out the barbacks, who consistently showed up about 3 hours into my shift (meaning I did all the set-up myself), and couldn't be bothered to get up to help wash glasses or empty ashtrays at the end of the night. I mean, I would be more than happy to tip them out if they ever did a little work. But giving 20% of my very meager tips to the dude who warmed the barstool all night and tried to tell me to only put 1 and a half oz. of vodka into a martini? No way.
So, onwards and upwards.
I got a jolt of West Coast energy and possibility. What good a change of scene will do.
Sorry,
ignatzmouse & co., I quit the Blue Lady Lounge last night. I couldn't deal with the Big Brother family surveillance thing. For instance, the owner's mom telling me not to light the candles until it was fully dark, and his nephew (the barback) telling me not to turn the stereo on because it was a waste of electricity. In a BAR. Also the old folks would sit around griping all afternoon, and if we put on any even slightly loud music or hip-hop, they would glare. And, if I put on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, the nephew would get all uncomfortable and feel compelled to make loud jokes about fags.
The last straw was having to tip out the barbacks, who consistently showed up about 3 hours into my shift (meaning I did all the set-up myself), and couldn't be bothered to get up to help wash glasses or empty ashtrays at the end of the night. I mean, I would be more than happy to tip them out if they ever did a little work. But giving 20% of my very meager tips to the dude who warmed the barstool all night and tried to tell me to only put 1 and a half oz. of vodka into a martini? No way.
So, onwards and upwards.
