Posted by Tilia

As evidenced by my last post, the past week has been a demanding one for me.  Starting a new job at a corporate firm, in a sector I know absolutely nothing about (HR), and then getting the plague has really worn me down.  However, as promised, I intended to work my weekend shift at Molly’s as it was scheduled.

Since I’d never managed to call in and ask what exactly that schedule was, I assumed I’d be going in at 10pm on Friday, since that’s the availability I put down.  So, when I got off the tube near my flat Friday evening, I called Molly’s cell phone to follow up with her.  It went straight to voicemail.

The bar doesn’t have a phone at all, and usually Molly’s really good about picking up her phone, so I left a message, but felt like something was off since it’d gone straight to voicemail.  I decided also texting Pregnant Barmaid was a good move, since she’s apparently the “assistant manager.”  That done, I got home, stripped off my professional wear, and dropped into bed.

My phone started ringing about 40 minutes later.  Cranky and groggy, I answered with a muffled greeting.

“Is that Tilia?” Pregnant Barmaid said.

“Mhm, yes.”

“Hey Tilia, it’s Pregnant Barmaid.  Listen, you are coming in tonight.  I was supposed to be off at 8, but they told me to stick around until you came in, so if you could just make it over as soon as possible …”

“but, I put my availability down for 10pm.”

“I know.  Whenever you can make it …”

Well, the woman is pregnant, so I couldn’t rightly just go back to sleep.  I attempted to reconstruct an awake face with various makeup products, and, satisfied that it was as good as it was going to get, I downed a red bull and struck out toward the bar.  I thought maybe walking would perk me up a little, since it takes just as long as taking the bus, so I did.

Well, I never properly woke up.  I was groggy, and still riding the remaining waves of that awful cold I had earlier in the week.  I stuck it out, though, serving drinks to the crowd for most of the night.  Pregnant Barmaid stuck around to drink Merlot, and poison her baby just a little more, and the not-a-Bouncer that started coming in after Molly’s fall was supposed to close with me.

The not-a-Bouncer usually hobnobs with the guests, has a Kronenberg, then helps me close and locks the bar up.  It’s not ideal, but whatever, it’s a small, crap bar. 

Well, an elderly gentleman, a regular, was sitting next to not-a-Bouncer and asked me how my new job went.  Somehow, in answering, we started talking about the economy, and the AIG bust a few weeks back, and how important the next American administration was going to be to restoring economic peace.

Not-a-Bouncer said something like, “The economy is metaphysical.  It only affects you because you believe it will.  Politics is the same.”

I kind of laughed and said, “No, money is pretty tangible.  It can be tracked and recorded, and it affects you whether you believe in it or not.  As to the politics …”

“Bush and Clinton were basically the same,” he cut me off.  “You can’t honestly believe that one did better than the other, or that the President is more than just a man in a chair.”

I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m finding this just a little offensive, so let’s talk about something else.”

Cue not-a-Bouncer losing his cool, and yelling at me to go back to America if I love it so much. 

Now, he was sorta drunk.  If he was a customer, it’d piss me off, but I’d probably keep working all the same.  However, this guy was supposed to be there not only as the other employee, but as my protection should something get out of hand.  This is just unacceptable.

At this point, I decided I was going to leave for the night and he could close up on his own.  I was going to wait until last call, and then shove off.  We were only about an hour to.

Then Molly bursts into the bar, completely sloppy drunk, and accompanied by some white trash, orange-tanned fat woman squeezed into a black corset, and with overly teased bleach blonde hair.  It was like Honkey Tonk Irish.

She comes behind the bar, brings the friend with her, and then tells me I should dance to the music.  At this point, furious, I demand my wages, fighting back tears, not because I feel like crying, but because I’m just so damn tired.

Molly tries to tell me to buck up, for the umpteenth time, referring to some deep seated Irish heritage I have, but when she sees the tears, she finally concedes and gives me the money.  She accompanies me outside, and I tell her what not-a-Bouncer did, and how inappropriate I found it.

“He wasn’t talkin’ about America …” She said, mysteriously.  “He was talkin’ about Ireland.  You gotta find your grandfather and your great grandfather …”

“Uh, Molly, no, that’s not what he was talking about.”  I cut her off.  I really wanted to tell her, at this point, that I’m probably more German and English than Irish, but whatever.

Awkward pause.

“Why didn’t you just tell him to fuck off?”  She demanded.  “Hit him with that towel rolled up behind the bar.”

“Molly!” I said, exasperated.  “That shouldn’t be my responsibility!”

“What, so you want a nursemaid your whole life?”

“Um, no, Molly, but when someone is there as a coworker, I expect them to behave in a professional manner.”

“Well, let’s go talk to him,” she said, grabbing my hand and attempting to pull me inside.

I had to jerk my hand away from her before she’d stop, saying, through gritted teeth, “that’s not something I’m comfortable with.”

She seemed at a loss, so I just walked away, toward home.  The poor guy who’d initially asked me how the new job was going was with his wife at the bus stop, and they waited with me while I sort of had a sobbing fit.  Again, just out of exhaustion.

The next day, after several attempts to call in (which was made impossible by Pregnant Barmaid not being scheduled, and Molly having lost her cell phone), I just decided to not go.  I don’t think I’ll go back again at all, actually.  And surprisingly, though this goes against my basic moral standing on job etiquette, I’m okay with it.

so, ich bin eu no äs update beträffänd pleasure spring session in laax schuldig.. erst mal s isch dä hammer xi.. am fritig simmer i dä crap bar xi.. diä hät ja am sunntig s letscht mal offä gha, aber dadäzuä später meh.. den hämmer in klupp (ehemals flem massiv) uf flims wellä, aber de isch leider chli vollä xi.. glaub öppä 230 lüüt.. den simmer halt zerscht i dä arena eis go schnappä und händs chli später namal probiert.. im klupp isch neon party xi, das heisst all lüüt sind neon farbig agleit xi.. ussert mir natürli, da mir vo nüüt gwüsst händ.. isch bis lang i dnacht inä gangä und am nächstä tag hämmer dementsprächend glittä.. mir händ eus aber nid dävo abbringä lah glich uf dä berg zgah.. dobä häts paar spinner gha wo über s noname inä gumpät sind.. mit äm snowboard verstaht sich.. zum apresski natürli wieder id crap bar.. und in usgang uf vals.. aber für das gits än eignä iitrag.. am sunntig hämmers leider nümm uf dä berg gschafft, däfür hämmer a dä ustrinkätä vo dä crap bar wos jetzt abriisäd chönä mitmachä.. bilder werdäd no na glieferät..