The Nightclub Diaries--- Chapter One- How the Hell Did I End Up Here??!!
"Hi, my name's Tami."
Oh crap! Now what do I say when they ask what I do? I am 26 years old. Thats an age where you are somewhere in your life. You know, a career? In real life people have those. Talk about life interrupted.
I was married at 19 to a man, not a boy, a man of 32. Ouch!
Not realizing at 19 that a man, one without 'issues', would not want to date, much less marry a teenager. But when you are 19, you know it all of course. When someone questions such a relationship, you smile, you are smug in the astounding knowledge of your maturity and self rightiousness.
What a load of crap!
Now I'm bartending for a living, divorced from the guy who turned out to be what I like to call the anti-christ.
I work in a nightclub called Nicks Place.. It will, in my 3 years of hell there, transform into a sports bar, but for now it is a nightclub. I started there when it was brand new, having been intorduced to Nick and his wife by a good friend. Original name huh? Nicks Place? IN the future a friend I worked with and I will joke, given the amount of sexual harrassment we put up with, if we ever filed a suit it would be "MY Place, or HER Place."
But back to me. How do you tell someone you are a bartender? Not that I'm ashamed of what I do, its a honest job, I'm a single mom with bills to pay. But most peoples perception of a female who works in a bar are "Oooh, she must put out!" I know in a lot of guys eyes, I am the ultimate prize. To them you bag a cocktail waitress, and yes, while studly still par for the course, but the bartender? Now that something! I mean, she's got to be the Slut Queen! Almost every guy that comes in thinks that, and maybe even my bosses too.
For the most part, lots of the girls, or women if you will, think I'm slutty too. They nervously watch their boyfriends as they get drinks from me, afraid I'm going to dazzle them with, I don't know, my rapier wit and blatent, knowing sexuality???
Puh-leeeze! I don't want their man. No one wants their man. They probably dont want their man!!
Anyway , back to my lovely, life afirming job. Whatever.
Every night I go to work with a desire to make enough money to pay my bills and just get through the night. I may wear things to highlght my assets, so to speak, you work for tips you do what you have to do, but I can't say I have the best attitude.
In short, I am a bitch.
You would think this would cause Nick to fire me, but for 2 reasons you would be wrong. I am consistently the top producing bartender they have, meaning , I sell butt loads of alchohol, more than anyone else in the bar. And last but not least, Nick still harbors the not so secret desire to get in my pants.
You would not believe sometimes what I have to put up with. Small wonder I am a bitch. Every night there is always some guy, sorry, but girls never do this, who thinks it's funny to whistle for me. HELLO! Am I Lassie??!! Not being the shrinking wall flower type, at least not anymore, I pause from my incredibly busy job and say, "Excuse me, did you just whistle for me? Am I a dog??" "I don't think so pal, get lost!" Eventually when they get no drink, they furtively move to the other bar, where I can promise you they don't even think to whistle at the male bartender, and they finally get a drink.
Did I mention I am a little bit of a bitch???
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