How's it goin?
So for the past few weeks I have been enjoying a more regular working schedule. I barely worked from just before christmas until near the end of January, and finances took a bit of a hit. Lately I have been working in The Club more often. I much prefer working in the restaurant, but I will go where I am told like a good little monkey.
Regular readers will have read The Tale Of the Flaming Fashion Show.
Here are some of the other highlights of nights in The Club.
It was a student night, a very busy student night. Over 600 people in the building. And the drunken students were being there usual drunken selves. The end of the night couldn't come fast enough. And when 2 am eventually arrived, the inevitable queue at the cloakroom ensued. 600 people all trying to get their jackets at once, it's chaos. It's like that every week.
One girl (who looked a little bit like Missy Piggy) even said to me,
Miss Piggy Girl: This is ridiculous, it's like this every week you know.
Andy: I'm sorry, theres nothing I can do.
Miss Piggy Girl: Well that's not good enough, it was exactly the same as this last week.
Andy: Well you really should have known better and got your jacket earlier then shouldn't you?
Regular readers will know how much I hate name droppers. This is a prime example of name dropping back firing.
About 30 seconds after this conversation, a slightly older man approached me, attempting to go upstairs to use the toilet. Upstairs was closed so I of course told him no. To get to the downstairs toilet, he would need to somehow make his way through the massive queue for the cloakroom that was currently blocking the corridor to the mens room.
He asked if I could get him through the queue. I asked him how he thought I could accomplish this any better than he could. All he had to do was say excuse me to a couple of people, but to him this was apparently an impossible task. He then asked again to get upstairs,
Drunk Guy: Why can't you let me upstairs?
Andy: Because we're closed up there and I have staff counting money so I can't let you up.
Drunk Guy: Look! I used to be entertainments manager here, I know Vinnie very, very well.
Drunk Guy: Well?
Andy: Well what?
Drunk Guy: Are you going to let me up to use the toilet?
Andy: No, I told you, I have staff counting cash upstairs, I don't know you. You're a stranger to me. You could be a nutter, or a robber.
Drunk Guy: I told you, I use to be entertainments manager in this building and I know Vinnie very, very well.
Andy: I see. Let me ask you, when you were entertainments manager here, how many times did someone try to get away with something by name dropping Vinnie to you?
Drunk Guy: What? What do you mean?
Andy: When exactly were you entertainments manager here?
Drunk Guy: 2006.
Andy: Really? 2006? That's odd. Because in 2006 I was the restaurant manager upstairs. And I was working in this building 6 days a week. Both in the restaurant and The Club. So don't you think it's odd that we never met? We should have crossed paths at some point surely?
He then walked off in a huff.
Then, last Saturday, it was a salsa night in the club. It's not very exciting. They get a lesson for an hour then it's a salsa disco. Some people take it very, very seriously. It's like watching strictly come dancing but with twats. Actually, its just like watching strictly come dancing. Just no Brucie.
The night starts at 9pm, and at 8:30 the doorbell rang. I went to open the door expecting to find a staff member trying tog e in, or maybe the DJ to get set up. What I found was a woman who looked like an ugly Billie Piper who was apparently desperate to get in.
Andy: Hello, can I help?
Ugly Billie: Yeah, I'm here for the salsa lesson, I'd like to come in.
Andy: Sorry. That doesn't actually start until 9.
Ugly Billie: Ok, I'll just have a drink while I wait.
She then attempts to barge past me. And fails.
Andy: Sorry, maybe I wasn't clear, we don't actually open until 9.
Ugly Billie: 9 o'clock?
Ugly Billie: When's that?
Andy: About an hour after 8.
She then shot me the bitchiest of bitchiest looks.
Ugly Billie: What time is it now?
Andy: About half past 8.
Ugly Billie: So how long until I can come in?
Andy: Well if we're open at 9....
Ugly Billie: Yeah?
She had a very blank expression on her face, I don't think her brain could process all the information that was given to her. Obviously I had presented her with far too complex an equation.
Andy: About half an hour.
Ugly Billie: But why can't I come in now?
Andy: Because it's not 9 yet.
Ugly Billie: So?
Andy: Well we don't open until 9.
Ugly Billie: Uh huh.
Andy: You do understand english don't you?
Ugly Billie: Ummmm, yeah of course. We're talking english aren't we? So can I come in now?
Andy: No! We are not open until 9pm. There are no staff here yet, I am still setting up, the DJ isn't even here yet, we will not be open until 9pm.
Ugly Billie: So what you're saying is, I can't come in right now?
Andy: Correct, not for another half hour.
Ugly Billie: Fine then, if you don't want my money. Fuck you!
She then walked off into the night, presumably to the nearest bar and had an equally confusing conversation with some poor barman about the price of a blue wicked and an aftershock.
So there you have it, three pretty boring and pointless conversations that take up my time as a busy restaurant/night club monkey.
That's All For Now
Until Next Time
Have A Nice
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