Have you ever noticed the difference a position at work changes the way people look at you? I have.
Between working the door and working behind the bar people look at you much differently. Recently I was offered a shift that I've had before at a different venue. I believe it was offered to me in order to keep me quiet and secure. In hopes that I wouldn't get pissed off and just up and leave.
Over the years of talking with Paulie I've made it clear the jobs that I didn't want and the jobs that I wanted. I've said that management was an interest. I've said that a slow bartending night was of interest. I've said that a barback position was never an interest.
Why wouldn't I want a barback position? Well, from my point of view the barback is actually the bartender that stocks the shelves and cooler at the end of the night. Your the bartender that does all the heavy work. Technically, the bartender that doesn't do the stocking is the senior person and only has to tip you out 27% of the tips. Usually on a slow night it's a 46 - 54 split because the barback does get tipped out by the waitress as well.
So of course, the position that was offered to me was the barback position. Which is typical of most clubs that I've worked with. You start out as security, go to barback and if you stick around long enough you get a bartending position. This would all be fine with me if not for one thing. I was promised a management position. Instead it was given to a different person. I was told that the position was given to the other person due to a lack of bartending experience on my part.
My argument is this.
How hard is it to walk up to a person sitting at a bar, ask them what they'd like, serve them, and then put the money in the register. It's not a complicated thing. I'd dare say a person could do this job without as much as a GED. Besides, I've worked in bars and I've worked behind them. Politics corrupt even the venue.
Despite my disapproval, I decided to take the barback position that was offered me. It was easy enough. I walked up to people, asked them what they wanted to drink, served them and put the money in the register. Strange that I could do that so well as a barback but not as a bartender. Throughout the night I stocked the booze and beer.
I did this for a very limited time. I ended up giving up the position on the simple facts that I didn't want to spend more time in the establishment. This shift was added on to all the shifts that I already had there working the door and I didn't want to be there any more than needed. Even though the extra $50 was nice, it wasn't worth being there.
After I gave up the shift I noticed other things. It's strange the amount of attention you get when you're behind the bar. I received phone numbers from women that are still regulars that never paid any attention to me before when I worked the door. Was I really that much different when I worked behind the bar as compared to working the door?
A couple weeks after giving up the bar shift I started getting questions from these same women.
"When do you work behind the bar again?"
"I gave up that shift. It just wasn't worth being here that extra night."
"Oh... ok."
After that I'd see them come in and I'd say hello but they wouldn't have anything to say. I even called one after she had given me her number while I was working behind the bar. She wasn't interested any more.
It's funny, a lot of people seem to think that working the door is the lowest position you can have at a venue. I don't really know why they think that.
The guy at the door talks to every person that walks in. He's the first person that every person sees when they walk in and a lot of time he's the one that will determine if you decide to come in. If he's nice and friendly then you'd come in. If he's pissy then you'll probably decide to go somewhere else. On a busy night, he's the one that determines if you'll be waiting in the line or skipping the line. If you're involved in an argument he can help determine if you leave or stay. He can use some influence in getting you cheap drinks at times.
In my opinion, it's a down grade to take a position where you might make $4 an hour and depend on tips. Especially with the economy in a rut the way it is now. I don't think my landlord or utilities would understand when I don't make enough tips to pay my bills.
Not to say that bartenders don't make decent money. I know some that make $300 - $400 in a 4 hour shift. They're the ones that have the weekend shifts when it's busy. The guys on the slow weeknights usually make between $100 - $200. So sure, if you have a few shifts spread out amongst a few different places there's an opportunity to make some cash.
For me, it's not worth my time to give up a door shift to take a shift where I could make between $50 - $100. Not to forget my $5 hourly... which comes out to be about $15 after taxes if I'm lucky.
Honestly, how many bartenders take any one that hits on them seriously? The bartenders probably get hit on by dozens of people a night. I'm sure there are a few exceptions out there but I'm sure most of the time it's a one nighter and that's it. Not too bad of a trade, sex for cheap drinks.
I found it funny how uninteresting I became after I gave up the shift. I also noticed how many more people wait in line to get in now.
Man, I'm an asshole.
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Friday, November 07, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
The Incoherent Mind...
I don't understand a lot of people. I guess that's just how I work. I see things, a lot of things. It's what I do. I watch and talk to a lot of people. I see the things they do and I notice a lot about people. I paste the events together and I get to see a lot of the darker side of them. I see a lot of the bad and not a lot of the good. I also see a few people in the opposite way and even fewer in both.
A friend of mine just went through a rough time. She had to kick her boyfriend out of their apartment. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later and I'm glad it did. He was a slacker and very much still a 12 year old.
He would come into the establishment on some of her nights. He would complain if she didn't pay enough attention to him. He would follow her from table to table as she waitressed and hang on her. He even dry humped her as she was trying to take orders on occasion. I tried to talk to her about it but she was overcome by the attention and was actually happy about it.
As time went on he got worse. His drinking got heavier and he became even more childish with every drink. Next thing you know he's taking his shirt off and acting like a monkey.
One night I pulled him out and around the side of the establishment. I had flashbacks of my father as I had one hand on his shoulder and my right index finger about a half an inch away from his eyeball.
"Listen to me. Quit fucking up in here."
"What? I'm just having a good time, people are laughing."
"I don't give a fuck who's laughing and who's trying to have a good time. I'm telling you to straighten the fuck up."
"Mike... listen man, we're just having a good time.."
At this point I squeezed his shoulder and dug my thumb in to hit the pressure point right in the area of where his shoulder meets his neck.
"Good time? At who's expense??" He started to talk and I squeezed that pressure point more and his knees started to buckle. "Listen to me now. Shut your fuckin mouth and listen. You take your shirt off one more time, you follow her around all night, or even think about dry humping her in front of customers and your ass will be out here faster than you've ever imagined it could be. You've only been allowed to slide this far because of her. Your sliding days are over. I don't give a shit who you are anymore. Now your just another piece of shit."
"But she likes the attention... she said it makes her feel better when I'm here..."
"You really fuckin believe that by degrading her it's a good thing? Are you fuckin stupid? I don't care what she says. Do that shit at home, don't ever do it here again. I'll lay your ass down on this sidewalk."
A month or two later I found out that he wasn't paying his bills or his part of the rent. I didn't hear it from Maria, I heard it from other staff members. I guess after I treated her boyfriend like a 6 year old she didn't want to talk to me about him anymore. She was afraid I might have another talk with him on a more serious matter, so I waited.
A couple more months went by and I heard about it again. He still wasn't paying his bills or his half of the rent. He works in the industry as well and he works at a fairly busy place. I kept wondering why he couldn't pay his share. It started to bother me even more when I kept hearing Maria say she couldn't do certain things because she was juggling bills. I've known Maria for a few years now and she never once had a problem with bills and such. I could also tell when she was upset.
One night her boyfriend came walking up with a few co-workers. He was all smiles as they walked up. I said hello to most of the co-workers and then it was his turn to walk in. He put his hand out for me to shake. I took a good look at him and said, "You need to make sure you scrub your face after work." Either he didn't hear me or he didn't care, under his nose was a white powdery substance.
That's when a lot more things started to come to light. I always figured he was either hyper active or a coke head but now I knew for sure. The little bastard wasn't paying his bills because he was snorting it all away.
As time went on he'd be quiet and every once in a while I'd have to set him off to the side. Information on what was going on was becoming more scarce as Maria quit talking to certain people. As information became less available I had to start interpreting things.
Maria started to become more lax at work. She was never a drinker or a drug user the whole time I've known her. Now all of a sudden she was drinking more and she was even smoking weed. It started to draw even more attention to her. I tried to talk to her about it and her answer usually entailed trying to fit in with her boyfriend and his friends. This just blew my mind. I can fully understand doing new things to fit in with your significant other. I can't understand drinking or doing drugs to fit in. To me that's just a sign of a weakness.
Finally a night came when there was a foul smell in the air. With the smoking ban it's very easy to smell cigarettes or any other funky smelling fumes. Low and behold, in the back of the establishment at one of the tables, the boy had a one hitter and was smoking weed. He was automatically ejected from the establishment. When I asked why I was told that Maria asked Casper not to tell me why. I told Casper to tell me because I'd find out anyways.
The next night he came by and I pulled him to the side again. He tried to apologize and I interrupted.
"Shut up. I don't ever want to hear the words I'm sorry come out of your mouth again. You wouldn't be doing this shit if you were. Don't you understand that when you fuck up in here, you don't just make you look bad, you make Maria look bad too?"
"But.. what?"
"Your her fuckin boyfriend. Your the one she chooses to be with and you make her look like a fuckin idiot for being with you. Your actions make people think less of her."
"No.. listen man, I was really fucked up that night..."
"Is that your fuckin excuse for not paying your bills? Is it your excuse for walking up here with coke all over your face? For taking your clothes off? For being a fuckin dirtbag? You know you can't be smoking weed in here. You know you can't be fuckin around. This is the last time I'm talking to you about any of this."
"Ok, ok... can I go inside?"
He went inside and ten minutes later he and Maria are outside arguing for a few minutes and he left. Maria didn't talk to me for a few days after that. Paulie and I had several talks about him and about how the next time would be the last time we'd put up with his bullshit. Boyfriend or not some one has to draw a line and since this is a work place we were ready to do that.
A few weeks later another incident occurred. This time it involved a regular punching the boy. Seems he was trying to push the regulars buttons and pushed it well enough that the regular pushed back, with his fist. The boy was removed and told not to come back.
Maria seemed much happier at work after that. She even started smiling and laughing more than she had been in the past month or two. Next thing you know, she's telling me about how she's kicking the boy out of the apartment and that they're broken up. I told her that it was the right thing to do and if she needed any help dealing with him to let me know.
She told me about the money he owed her. I told her to keep certain things of his until he paid up or to just keep enough of his things to kind of settle the debt. Conveniently he doesn't own anything of value.
Hopefully he starts paying back some of this money he owes her. Then again, I wouldn't mind having another talk with him. Maybe drive a few more points home and instill them into his head.
A friend of mine just went through a rough time. She had to kick her boyfriend out of their apartment. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later and I'm glad it did. He was a slacker and very much still a 12 year old.
He would come into the establishment on some of her nights. He would complain if she didn't pay enough attention to him. He would follow her from table to table as she waitressed and hang on her. He even dry humped her as she was trying to take orders on occasion. I tried to talk to her about it but she was overcome by the attention and was actually happy about it.
As time went on he got worse. His drinking got heavier and he became even more childish with every drink. Next thing you know he's taking his shirt off and acting like a monkey.
One night I pulled him out and around the side of the establishment. I had flashbacks of my father as I had one hand on his shoulder and my right index finger about a half an inch away from his eyeball.
"Listen to me. Quit fucking up in here."
"What? I'm just having a good time, people are laughing."
"I don't give a fuck who's laughing and who's trying to have a good time. I'm telling you to straighten the fuck up."
"Mike... listen man, we're just having a good time.."
At this point I squeezed his shoulder and dug my thumb in to hit the pressure point right in the area of where his shoulder meets his neck.
"Good time? At who's expense??" He started to talk and I squeezed that pressure point more and his knees started to buckle. "Listen to me now. Shut your fuckin mouth and listen. You take your shirt off one more time, you follow her around all night, or even think about dry humping her in front of customers and your ass will be out here faster than you've ever imagined it could be. You've only been allowed to slide this far because of her. Your sliding days are over. I don't give a shit who you are anymore. Now your just another piece of shit."
"But she likes the attention... she said it makes her feel better when I'm here..."
"You really fuckin believe that by degrading her it's a good thing? Are you fuckin stupid? I don't care what she says. Do that shit at home, don't ever do it here again. I'll lay your ass down on this sidewalk."
A month or two later I found out that he wasn't paying his bills or his part of the rent. I didn't hear it from Maria, I heard it from other staff members. I guess after I treated her boyfriend like a 6 year old she didn't want to talk to me about him anymore. She was afraid I might have another talk with him on a more serious matter, so I waited.
A couple more months went by and I heard about it again. He still wasn't paying his bills or his half of the rent. He works in the industry as well and he works at a fairly busy place. I kept wondering why he couldn't pay his share. It started to bother me even more when I kept hearing Maria say she couldn't do certain things because she was juggling bills. I've known Maria for a few years now and she never once had a problem with bills and such. I could also tell when she was upset.
One night her boyfriend came walking up with a few co-workers. He was all smiles as they walked up. I said hello to most of the co-workers and then it was his turn to walk in. He put his hand out for me to shake. I took a good look at him and said, "You need to make sure you scrub your face after work." Either he didn't hear me or he didn't care, under his nose was a white powdery substance.
That's when a lot more things started to come to light. I always figured he was either hyper active or a coke head but now I knew for sure. The little bastard wasn't paying his bills because he was snorting it all away.
As time went on he'd be quiet and every once in a while I'd have to set him off to the side. Information on what was going on was becoming more scarce as Maria quit talking to certain people. As information became less available I had to start interpreting things.
Maria started to become more lax at work. She was never a drinker or a drug user the whole time I've known her. Now all of a sudden she was drinking more and she was even smoking weed. It started to draw even more attention to her. I tried to talk to her about it and her answer usually entailed trying to fit in with her boyfriend and his friends. This just blew my mind. I can fully understand doing new things to fit in with your significant other. I can't understand drinking or doing drugs to fit in. To me that's just a sign of a weakness.
Finally a night came when there was a foul smell in the air. With the smoking ban it's very easy to smell cigarettes or any other funky smelling fumes. Low and behold, in the back of the establishment at one of the tables, the boy had a one hitter and was smoking weed. He was automatically ejected from the establishment. When I asked why I was told that Maria asked Casper not to tell me why. I told Casper to tell me because I'd find out anyways.
The next night he came by and I pulled him to the side again. He tried to apologize and I interrupted.
"Shut up. I don't ever want to hear the words I'm sorry come out of your mouth again. You wouldn't be doing this shit if you were. Don't you understand that when you fuck up in here, you don't just make you look bad, you make Maria look bad too?"
"But.. what?"
"Your her fuckin boyfriend. Your the one she chooses to be with and you make her look like a fuckin idiot for being with you. Your actions make people think less of her."
"No.. listen man, I was really fucked up that night..."
"Is that your fuckin excuse for not paying your bills? Is it your excuse for walking up here with coke all over your face? For taking your clothes off? For being a fuckin dirtbag? You know you can't be smoking weed in here. You know you can't be fuckin around. This is the last time I'm talking to you about any of this."
"Ok, ok... can I go inside?"
He went inside and ten minutes later he and Maria are outside arguing for a few minutes and he left. Maria didn't talk to me for a few days after that. Paulie and I had several talks about him and about how the next time would be the last time we'd put up with his bullshit. Boyfriend or not some one has to draw a line and since this is a work place we were ready to do that.
A few weeks later another incident occurred. This time it involved a regular punching the boy. Seems he was trying to push the regulars buttons and pushed it well enough that the regular pushed back, with his fist. The boy was removed and told not to come back.
Maria seemed much happier at work after that. She even started smiling and laughing more than she had been in the past month or two. Next thing you know, she's telling me about how she's kicking the boy out of the apartment and that they're broken up. I told her that it was the right thing to do and if she needed any help dealing with him to let me know.
She told me about the money he owed her. I told her to keep certain things of his until he paid up or to just keep enough of his things to kind of settle the debt. Conveniently he doesn't own anything of value.
Hopefully he starts paying back some of this money he owes her. Then again, I wouldn't mind having another talk with him. Maybe drive a few more points home and instill them into his head.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Disposition of Servitude (Work Ethics)...
One of the hardest things to adjust to is everyone else's work habits. Some people have the ability to work and do it right all the time. They know the game and they stick to it. Some people have the ability to just get by. They know the game and do just enough to stay around.
In the nightlife you'll find both types of people. Which at times makes it interesting to listen to everyone complain. This person doesn't wash their dishes, this person didn't check those people's i.d.'s or many other things. I get to hear about it all as if I have some mystical power to change the way people are.
Granted, everyone gets burnt out on their job at some point. It's bound to happen after you've done the same job for years. That's why I usually have a time limit on jobs. I work long enough doing something and either I move on to a different position or I move on to a different job. That's just how I work things. After a certain age you either have to get your shit together and save for the future or be prepared to die at some job that you don't like.
Even though I might get burnt out on a job it doesn't give me the ability to let myself go. I don't like being fired from jobs. So I keep doing it until I find something new or better. I don't decide that it's cool for me to break the rules and smoke weed at work, or just decide not to go to work. People depend on me to be there and do my job so that's what I do until I don't need to.
On the other side, a lot of people take jobs in the nightlife because it seems fun. People are drinking, having fun and doing all kinds of weird shit. You get the opportunity to meet lots of different people. If you partake in drugs then your guaranteed to meet even more people of the same kind. Yes, I said it, there are a lot of drug users that work in clubs and bars. Have you ever heard of a club or bar that makes their employees do random drug tests? If you have let me know where this place is. I might just apply.
There are a lot of slackers that work in the industry too. People that don't want to punch a time card and want to show up when they want to. They won't get in trouble for being 20 minutes late or not being the nicest person in the world. It's an easy job and you make easy money. Plus, there's not a lot of actual work involved. By that I mean your not going to be lugging around 100lbs of weight all the time or trying to sell enough merch to make good commissions. You sell booze, everyone that walks in the door wants it.
Which reminds me of an ad I saw in the classifieds once for a job.
I actually called about this ad. I figured if everyone bought it then it'd be an easy job. There's no way I'd ever work in a funeral home though. That's just having work and death too close to each other.
So getting used to the different aspects of work is something I've had to deal with. There are only a few people here that I'd deem as slackers. Those are the ones that are getting on my nerves. I'm learning how to deal with those nerves.
In the nightlife you'll find both types of people. Which at times makes it interesting to listen to everyone complain. This person doesn't wash their dishes, this person didn't check those people's i.d.'s or many other things. I get to hear about it all as if I have some mystical power to change the way people are.
Granted, everyone gets burnt out on their job at some point. It's bound to happen after you've done the same job for years. That's why I usually have a time limit on jobs. I work long enough doing something and either I move on to a different position or I move on to a different job. That's just how I work things. After a certain age you either have to get your shit together and save for the future or be prepared to die at some job that you don't like.
Even though I might get burnt out on a job it doesn't give me the ability to let myself go. I don't like being fired from jobs. So I keep doing it until I find something new or better. I don't decide that it's cool for me to break the rules and smoke weed at work, or just decide not to go to work. People depend on me to be there and do my job so that's what I do until I don't need to.
On the other side, a lot of people take jobs in the nightlife because it seems fun. People are drinking, having fun and doing all kinds of weird shit. You get the opportunity to meet lots of different people. If you partake in drugs then your guaranteed to meet even more people of the same kind. Yes, I said it, there are a lot of drug users that work in clubs and bars. Have you ever heard of a club or bar that makes their employees do random drug tests? If you have let me know where this place is. I might just apply.
There are a lot of slackers that work in the industry too. People that don't want to punch a time card and want to show up when they want to. They won't get in trouble for being 20 minutes late or not being the nicest person in the world. It's an easy job and you make easy money. Plus, there's not a lot of actual work involved. By that I mean your not going to be lugging around 100lbs of weight all the time or trying to sell enough merch to make good commissions. You sell booze, everyone that walks in the door wants it.
Which reminds me of an ad I saw in the classifieds once for a job.
Everyone buys it. It's only a matter of time. High Commission Sales Position xxx-xxx-xxxx
I actually called about this ad. I figured if everyone bought it then it'd be an easy job. There's no way I'd ever work in a funeral home though. That's just having work and death too close to each other.
So getting used to the different aspects of work is something I've had to deal with. There are only a few people here that I'd deem as slackers. Those are the ones that are getting on my nerves. I'm learning how to deal with those nerves.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Stories...
Every neighborhood has a hierarchy when it comes to the industry, it's a strange, if not quirky, thing. It has a lot to do with how many years a person has worked in the neighborhood, what bar or club they work at, how long they've worked there, and how much trouble they've been in or stopped. How ever you look at it, it all depends on the stories.
I learned a long time ago to not believe stories I've heard. Half the time I don't believe what I see unless I see it plain as day. Every head doorman at every bar got that job for a reason. Usually the reason is just because he stuck around long enough that everyone else quit. Very rarely will you ever hear about someone walking into a place and beating the shit out of a doorman and then getting his job. In fact, I'd say that's nothing more than an urban legend, it just doesn't happen. Sure, doormen get beat up occasionally, if they don't know what their job is or they're not paying attention. Which can be a good reason to find a new doorman.
The hierarchy is a funny thing. It matters to a lot of the old school guys. Guys that were around when all the real shit always used to hit the fan. When knives and guns were a common thing to see in these places. A lot of the new kids don't know much about the hierarchy. They think that just because they work somewhere they should get the same perks as everyone else they work with. It just doesn't happen that way.
The hierarchy is much more than just where you work or who you work with. It's also about the time you've spent doing this work and the many things you've been through. Which brings me back to why I don't believe the stories. I've heard stories about myself that included 4 guys against just me. Not just any guys but big muscle head guys and guys with knives. I can say right now that I've never had either of those fights. I have had a knife pulled on me but never more than one.
It's like playing the game Telephone when you were a kid. By the time you hear the tale it's so misconstrued that you'd think the guy was a giant with a cannon under his arm. In reality it was just some loud mouthed guy that didn't want to leave after he puked in the bathroom.
So I usually stick with people I know and how long they've been around. Certain people I'll help out with anything they need. The ones that I don't know, I don't do anything for until I decide they're worth doing things for.
Casper is always a good one to hear talking. He's been everywhere and seen everything... while sitting on his couch. He hasn't traveled anywhere but if you'll listen he'll tell you all about it. He'll even tell you how he had my back on quite a few fights. Of course, his version of 'having someone's back' is completely different than mine. His includes standing at the other end of the establishment and talking to a woman. Mine would be pulling someone off your back and going to the next. So I don't tend to believe stories about people.
There aren't many Pecos Bills or Paul Bunyans left in the world. There are a few Mike Ds in every neighborhood though. Just depends on where you look.
I learned a long time ago to not believe stories I've heard. Half the time I don't believe what I see unless I see it plain as day. Every head doorman at every bar got that job for a reason. Usually the reason is just because he stuck around long enough that everyone else quit. Very rarely will you ever hear about someone walking into a place and beating the shit out of a doorman and then getting his job. In fact, I'd say that's nothing more than an urban legend, it just doesn't happen. Sure, doormen get beat up occasionally, if they don't know what their job is or they're not paying attention. Which can be a good reason to find a new doorman.
The hierarchy is a funny thing. It matters to a lot of the old school guys. Guys that were around when all the real shit always used to hit the fan. When knives and guns were a common thing to see in these places. A lot of the new kids don't know much about the hierarchy. They think that just because they work somewhere they should get the same perks as everyone else they work with. It just doesn't happen that way.
The hierarchy is much more than just where you work or who you work with. It's also about the time you've spent doing this work and the many things you've been through. Which brings me back to why I don't believe the stories. I've heard stories about myself that included 4 guys against just me. Not just any guys but big muscle head guys and guys with knives. I can say right now that I've never had either of those fights. I have had a knife pulled on me but never more than one.
It's like playing the game Telephone when you were a kid. By the time you hear the tale it's so misconstrued that you'd think the guy was a giant with a cannon under his arm. In reality it was just some loud mouthed guy that didn't want to leave after he puked in the bathroom.
So I usually stick with people I know and how long they've been around. Certain people I'll help out with anything they need. The ones that I don't know, I don't do anything for until I decide they're worth doing things for.
Casper is always a good one to hear talking. He's been everywhere and seen everything... while sitting on his couch. He hasn't traveled anywhere but if you'll listen he'll tell you all about it. He'll even tell you how he had my back on quite a few fights. Of course, his version of 'having someone's back' is completely different than mine. His includes standing at the other end of the establishment and talking to a woman. Mine would be pulling someone off your back and going to the next. So I don't tend to believe stories about people.
There aren't many Pecos Bills or Paul Bunyans left in the world. There are a few Mike Ds in every neighborhood though. Just depends on where you look.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Nice vs Not So Nice...
Within the past few years I learned what it means to dislike people. In the beginning I hated the world. Then over the years my old self has slowly started to resurface. Let's say the softer side is starting to come back to the battleground. Which isn't always a good thing in this line of work.
You don't want to be soft but you do in certain situations. You can't be an asshole all the time, just at the times you need to.
Over the past month I've been punched, tackled and insulted in many ways. (I'll post these stories in time) Most of which have happened because I was being soft and polite. Strange that people are such assholes. If I had been rude and forceful it more than likely wouldn't have happened.
Time wears a person down and after being an asshole long enough I was getting tired of it. So I decided to be a little nicer. Of course that paid off well... Luckily, no stitches, guns or knives involved as of yet.
There are a few other things I'm trying to change as well that have nothing to do with work. I'm going to try and get back to a gym. It's been a long time since I've been in a gym at all. I've always had that second labor induced job to keep me fit. I haven't had that in a while so it's time to get one or get to a gym. I'd rather have the second job so at least I'm getting paid to bust my ass and not paying for it. Especially since I'm the type to use a personal trainer. Yea, I'm that lazy.
I've never been a fan of working out or going to a gym. I also don't have a clue as to what to do or which machines to use. I never had to use that stuff even when playing football back in the day. I'm just a big country boy that has worked labor jobs his whole life.
So I think the second job option is the better one, once spring hits. Ahh.. back to shoveling ditches and tossing tons of weight all day. Part of me thinks it will actually be fun.
As for being nice to people. I'm done with that. It's back to being the asshole at the door. I'm not a fan of being punched or tackled and I don't want to waste anymore time going to court for people I've had arrested. The judges are starting to know me by face.
A few of the cops have even joked that I should get a badge. Maybe in the future, but not right now. I like dealing with the problems of a confined area rather than an entire town. Besides, most of the cops wish they were me. Since things can happen here and not there. Legalities...
Ok, I'll be back soon with more posts. Until then...
Be Safe.
You don't want to be soft but you do in certain situations. You can't be an asshole all the time, just at the times you need to.
Over the past month I've been punched, tackled and insulted in many ways. (I'll post these stories in time) Most of which have happened because I was being soft and polite. Strange that people are such assholes. If I had been rude and forceful it more than likely wouldn't have happened.
Time wears a person down and after being an asshole long enough I was getting tired of it. So I decided to be a little nicer. Of course that paid off well... Luckily, no stitches, guns or knives involved as of yet.
There are a few other things I'm trying to change as well that have nothing to do with work. I'm going to try and get back to a gym. It's been a long time since I've been in a gym at all. I've always had that second labor induced job to keep me fit. I haven't had that in a while so it's time to get one or get to a gym. I'd rather have the second job so at least I'm getting paid to bust my ass and not paying for it. Especially since I'm the type to use a personal trainer. Yea, I'm that lazy.
I've never been a fan of working out or going to a gym. I also don't have a clue as to what to do or which machines to use. I never had to use that stuff even when playing football back in the day. I'm just a big country boy that has worked labor jobs his whole life.
So I think the second job option is the better one, once spring hits. Ahh.. back to shoveling ditches and tossing tons of weight all day. Part of me thinks it will actually be fun.
As for being nice to people. I'm done with that. It's back to being the asshole at the door. I'm not a fan of being punched or tackled and I don't want to waste anymore time going to court for people I've had arrested. The judges are starting to know me by face.
A few of the cops have even joked that I should get a badge. Maybe in the future, but not right now. I like dealing with the problems of a confined area rather than an entire town. Besides, most of the cops wish they were me. Since things can happen here and not there. Legalities...
Ok, I'll be back soon with more posts. Until then...
Be Safe.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Strip Joint...
One of the many security jobs I've had was in a strip club. It wasn't a nice place but it helped to pay the bills - when I got paid.
It was a dirty place that you never wanted to see with the lights fully up. Even the girls weren't all that great to look at. There was definitely a selection of girls though. There was the 40 some year old Hispanic mother of 5, the flat chested coke addicted college girl, the 5'3" 170lb woman that could only breathe through her mouth and a whole slew of others.
Among them all was the Mother Hen. She was the girl that did all the scheduling for the girls. She could either make it possible for a girl to make money or make it so she never came back. To the girls she was a total bitch. To the door staff she was lovely.
Although this place had a maximum of 25 people in there on any given night she always made good money. I called her Tammy but many people called her Momma. She was the reason a lot of people stuck around.
The owners of the club were as shady as the location of the club. It was in the middle of nowhere, the front of the club was the only area that wasn't overgrown by trees and shrubbery. I was told there was a little lake farther in the back but I never took that path to see it.
The club had a different name every six or eight months. Management would change hands just as often but always between the same three guys. Some kind of legal garble because the city was constantly trying to shut the place down. The city was more interested in keeping a moral facade.
I ended up leaving this job for several reasons. The atmosphere wasn't the greatest, most of the women that worked there were ugly and the paychecks stopped showing up.
During one of the management changes somehow all the employee records were misplaced. At the time I was always copying my time card due to possible misplacements. So when I showed them this they tore it up and tossed it away.
After a month and a half of no pay I left. I had no intention in sticking around if I wasn't going to get paid.
A couple months later I stopped in to see a friend that still worked there. I walked up to the door and said hello to the head doorman. He asked for my i.d. and acted like he never knew me. The times that we stood and made fun of the many drunken illegal aliens were gone. He had erased his mind of my total time there.
I walked over and talked to my friend and he had hurried the conversation along. All matters were cut short and he hurried me along.
When I talked to Tammy she took her time and basically explained that the management was upset with me and didn't want me there - at all. That's when I noticed there were many eyes on me. Tammy told me that she'd give me a call the next time she had a party and I exited the building.
As I started to pull out of the parking lot I noticed the doorman and the owner standing outside watching. I never did hear from Tammy again. I knew I wouldn't.
Recently I drove past where the club was. The building still stands but it's completely overgrown now and dead. I had thought about stopping there just to see if it was still the same. The windows are boarded up and the door had "Closed" spray painted on it.
Looks like the city finally got what they wanted. Morality reigns.
It was a dirty place that you never wanted to see with the lights fully up. Even the girls weren't all that great to look at. There was definitely a selection of girls though. There was the 40 some year old Hispanic mother of 5, the flat chested coke addicted college girl, the 5'3" 170lb woman that could only breathe through her mouth and a whole slew of others.
Among them all was the Mother Hen. She was the girl that did all the scheduling for the girls. She could either make it possible for a girl to make money or make it so she never came back. To the girls she was a total bitch. To the door staff she was lovely.
Although this place had a maximum of 25 people in there on any given night she always made good money. I called her Tammy but many people called her Momma. She was the reason a lot of people stuck around.
The owners of the club were as shady as the location of the club. It was in the middle of nowhere, the front of the club was the only area that wasn't overgrown by trees and shrubbery. I was told there was a little lake farther in the back but I never took that path to see it.
The club had a different name every six or eight months. Management would change hands just as often but always between the same three guys. Some kind of legal garble because the city was constantly trying to shut the place down. The city was more interested in keeping a moral facade.
I ended up leaving this job for several reasons. The atmosphere wasn't the greatest, most of the women that worked there were ugly and the paychecks stopped showing up.
During one of the management changes somehow all the employee records were misplaced. At the time I was always copying my time card due to possible misplacements. So when I showed them this they tore it up and tossed it away.
After a month and a half of no pay I left. I had no intention in sticking around if I wasn't going to get paid.
A couple months later I stopped in to see a friend that still worked there. I walked up to the door and said hello to the head doorman. He asked for my i.d. and acted like he never knew me. The times that we stood and made fun of the many drunken illegal aliens were gone. He had erased his mind of my total time there.
I walked over and talked to my friend and he had hurried the conversation along. All matters were cut short and he hurried me along.
When I talked to Tammy she took her time and basically explained that the management was upset with me and didn't want me there - at all. That's when I noticed there were many eyes on me. Tammy told me that she'd give me a call the next time she had a party and I exited the building.
As I started to pull out of the parking lot I noticed the doorman and the owner standing outside watching. I never did hear from Tammy again. I knew I wouldn't.
Recently I drove past where the club was. The building still stands but it's completely overgrown now and dead. I had thought about stopping there just to see if it was still the same. The windows are boarded up and the door had "Closed" spray painted on it.
Looks like the city finally got what they wanted. Morality reigns.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
A slight tick away from perfection...
One thing I learned from a life long friend is this. "If it's not perfect then it's not right." That could be used in many different ways but he was referring to women.
He got married just a few months ago to the girl that he thinks is his perfect match. As far as I'm concerned, I'm glad he's happy. I have nothing to say about his new wife except that she is a great person and to marry him, she must be perfect.
His general rule of thumb seems to have worked great for him. My general rule of thumb? Give it a shot. If the sex is great, then you can put up with some of the idiocrasies. Horrible rule of thumb, I know, I'm still learning...
One thing I never understood are the girls that are dominatrices. Sure, I understand that some men like feeling like shit about themselves. They need that in order to feel superior to others or just to feel good about themselves. What I don't understand are the two extremely attractive girls I know that do the job.
After a very frustrating night at work I met up with Sueann. She's a Dominatrix who goes by a different name. A name that I won't even speak of here but it begins with Mistress and ends with some dark, brooding, evil twang.
The night at work was very frustrating. We had several people removed from the bar and a couple fights. Needless to say I was pretty pent up after a night of throwing people around. All I really wanted to do was go home and fall asleep on the couch as I watched a rerun on tv. After the second fight at the bar she came up and started talking to me. She was very persuasive in getting my attention and after only a couple minutes she had it, fully. She could have distracted a fat man at a pie eating contest. She was wearing a tight black corset with red fringe, thigh high black stockings, a mini skirt and those boots most commonly known as hooker heels. Her hair was black as night and pulled back tight in a pony tail. Her face was angelic with that little spurt of evil slowly dribbling out around her eyes and mouth.
She managed to talk me into taking her and her other dominatrix friend out to breakfast. Every word that came out of her mouth was sultry and full of innuendos. She spoke of things that I could only have dreamt of. She talked of how she wanted a man that could throw her around and have his way with her.
We went to breakfast after I got out of work and she sat next to me and her lone friend sat across from us at the table. Her friend couldn't decide if she wanted to talk or eat and in between forks of food her mouth wouldn't stop. Then her phone rang and she was off like a race horse chattering into the small cell phone. Meanwhile, Sueann's hands explored the lowlands that they found under the table.
Sueann's friend finally got off the phone and announced that she was going to leave. She jumped up from the table and ran out the door leaving me with the bill. I paid the bill and then Sueann and I were off. In the car I asked where I could take her and she looked at me and answered easily. "I'm staying with you tonight."
I parked my car a block away from the homestead and we walked in. As we got into the front door the heels started coming off and the thigh highs were on their way. Our jackets fell into a pile and my shirt was next. Then she ran off to the bathroom.
After about 5 minutes I decided to just sit on the couch and turned on the tv. I slowly start to nod off after another 15 minutes. Next thing I know I open my eyes and shes sitting on the other end of the couch crying.
"Whoa, whats the matter?"
"I don't know why I do this," her sobbing blotted out most of the words.
"Do what?"
"I s sh shouldn't be here... I need to leave..."
I sat up and put my arm around her for comfort. "If you think you should leave then feel free. If you want to stay the night you can."
"No funny business?" Her eyes looked like they were in awe or confusion.
"None at all. Besides, how good can it be if your bawling your eyes out?"
She laughed a little, "Eh he... I guess, usually that's how the guys want to be acting." She smiled a little more.
"Not this one, I just want to pass out."
The next morning I woke up right where I fell asleep on the couch. Sueann wasn't next to me though. I looked and she wasn't in my bedroom either. Then I went on to check my pockets and the money and valuables I had at the apartment. Everything was present and accounted for.
I walked into the kitchen and found a note.
Mike,
I'm sorry your such a pussy and couldn't take what you wanted from such a small helpless girl. Not to worry, I'll see to it that everyone finds out what a piece of shit you really are. To believe that you wouldn't even sleep with me. Don't you know that I wanted it to happen? That's why I came here. You must be gay.
Mistress ________
Talk about your nut jobs.
This incident firmly justifies my reasoning to stay clear of girls who want to be or are a Dominatrix. Something just tells me that there has to be some kind of unbalance inside there. Some kind of mistreatment that just disturbed them to the core. Of course this doesn't go for all the women that are Dominatrices but I will say that it probably goes for the ones I know.
So I can now add Dominatrix to the not perfect list.
If it's not perfect, it's not right.
He got married just a few months ago to the girl that he thinks is his perfect match. As far as I'm concerned, I'm glad he's happy. I have nothing to say about his new wife except that she is a great person and to marry him, she must be perfect.
His general rule of thumb seems to have worked great for him. My general rule of thumb? Give it a shot. If the sex is great, then you can put up with some of the idiocrasies. Horrible rule of thumb, I know, I'm still learning...
One thing I never understood are the girls that are dominatrices. Sure, I understand that some men like feeling like shit about themselves. They need that in order to feel superior to others or just to feel good about themselves. What I don't understand are the two extremely attractive girls I know that do the job.
After a very frustrating night at work I met up with Sueann. She's a Dominatrix who goes by a different name. A name that I won't even speak of here but it begins with Mistress and ends with some dark, brooding, evil twang.
The night at work was very frustrating. We had several people removed from the bar and a couple fights. Needless to say I was pretty pent up after a night of throwing people around. All I really wanted to do was go home and fall asleep on the couch as I watched a rerun on tv. After the second fight at the bar she came up and started talking to me. She was very persuasive in getting my attention and after only a couple minutes she had it, fully. She could have distracted a fat man at a pie eating contest. She was wearing a tight black corset with red fringe, thigh high black stockings, a mini skirt and those boots most commonly known as hooker heels. Her hair was black as night and pulled back tight in a pony tail. Her face was angelic with that little spurt of evil slowly dribbling out around her eyes and mouth.
She managed to talk me into taking her and her other dominatrix friend out to breakfast. Every word that came out of her mouth was sultry and full of innuendos. She spoke of things that I could only have dreamt of. She talked of how she wanted a man that could throw her around and have his way with her.
We went to breakfast after I got out of work and she sat next to me and her lone friend sat across from us at the table. Her friend couldn't decide if she wanted to talk or eat and in between forks of food her mouth wouldn't stop. Then her phone rang and she was off like a race horse chattering into the small cell phone. Meanwhile, Sueann's hands explored the lowlands that they found under the table.
Sueann's friend finally got off the phone and announced that she was going to leave. She jumped up from the table and ran out the door leaving me with the bill. I paid the bill and then Sueann and I were off. In the car I asked where I could take her and she looked at me and answered easily. "I'm staying with you tonight."
I parked my car a block away from the homestead and we walked in. As we got into the front door the heels started coming off and the thigh highs were on their way. Our jackets fell into a pile and my shirt was next. Then she ran off to the bathroom.
After about 5 minutes I decided to just sit on the couch and turned on the tv. I slowly start to nod off after another 15 minutes. Next thing I know I open my eyes and shes sitting on the other end of the couch crying.
"Whoa, whats the matter?"
"I don't know why I do this," her sobbing blotted out most of the words.
"Do what?"
"I s sh shouldn't be here... I need to leave..."
I sat up and put my arm around her for comfort. "If you think you should leave then feel free. If you want to stay the night you can."
"No funny business?" Her eyes looked like they were in awe or confusion.
"None at all. Besides, how good can it be if your bawling your eyes out?"
She laughed a little, "Eh he... I guess, usually that's how the guys want to be acting." She smiled a little more.
"Not this one, I just want to pass out."
The next morning I woke up right where I fell asleep on the couch. Sueann wasn't next to me though. I looked and she wasn't in my bedroom either. Then I went on to check my pockets and the money and valuables I had at the apartment. Everything was present and accounted for.
I walked into the kitchen and found a note.
Mike,
I'm sorry your such a pussy and couldn't take what you wanted from such a small helpless girl. Not to worry, I'll see to it that everyone finds out what a piece of shit you really are. To believe that you wouldn't even sleep with me. Don't you know that I wanted it to happen? That's why I came here. You must be gay.
Mistress ________
Talk about your nut jobs.
This incident firmly justifies my reasoning to stay clear of girls who want to be or are a Dominatrix. Something just tells me that there has to be some kind of unbalance inside there. Some kind of mistreatment that just disturbed them to the core. Of course this doesn't go for all the women that are Dominatrices but I will say that it probably goes for the ones I know.
So I can now add Dominatrix to the not perfect list.
If it's not perfect, it's not right.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Scheduling...
I've never been one to like an over productive schedule. Not that I don't like to get things done. I just don't like to have a lot of things that I have to get done in a day. I'm a homebody by definition. I leave when I need to and stay home otherwise. I don't watch much television either. If I am watching tv, I'm more than likely watching a movie that came out within the past year. This way I can catch up with the lingo and jokes that the people around me are using.
Other than that I try to read and get in a few other activities. I have to admit, reading isn't one of my bigger activities. Which might be evident in some ways by the more experienced connoisseur of the English language. Does it really bother me? No, not really. People still read what I have to write.
I've never really understood the giant hustle bustle that comes with bigger towns and cities. I've never understood why people have to meet up at a place of business.
"Hey man, you want to meet up at E. Oli's Sushi Bar?"
"No, just meet me at my place."
"Really?"
"Yea, why not? I got beers and food here."
It's strange to me how some people just have an apartment to sleep in it. For the amount of money you drop to have an apartment you might as well live in it. Otherwise it's just a storage shed.
You pay out so much money a month so you can leave your belongings somewhere. Why not spend some time there? It's the one place that your the King (or Queen). Nothing costs a thing after you get it inside and if done right that could mean a lot. I always tend to have at least a 12 pack of some beer in the fridge and a couple different bags of chips. Good for game day with the possibility of a delivered pizza.
There are a lot of people I know in the industry that just don't do that. They'd much rather go out and hang out at some other bar. Get bumped around by jocks, preps, and hipsters. Really? I guess it really is different being a doorman as compared to a bartender.
"Man, you sure you don't wanna just meet up at E. Oli's?"
"Do what you wanna do man. I'm sittin here with my beer and big screen."
"Can I bring a couple people?"
"As long as they aren't any of the assholes from the bar."
The bartenders I know just want to be around people. They don't like the small crowds. They're so used to running up and down the bar. They deal with a lot of people all the time. So I guess it's just normal for them to want to be around a lot of people.
I, on the other hand, like to keep it low key. I like having a bare minimum of people around. That way it's more personal. People get to know people and they get to know how they work. I guess that just comes from dealing with thousands of people at work. I get to know you well enough and then I know if I'm going to have to deal with you. Some I get to know well.
"How bout Cale? I just saw him go over to the store."
"I said, 'No assholes from the bar'."
Of course being from two totally different positions of the establishment means two totally different ideas of who the assholes are.
"Well man, I'm just gonna go over to E. Oli's for some sushi. I'll give ya a call back if anythings going on."
"Yea, sounds good man. I'll be here."
And that's where I stay. I have no need to go do anything. I got my brew, my food, and my home. It's all I need after dealing with idiots all week.
Other than that I try to read and get in a few other activities. I have to admit, reading isn't one of my bigger activities. Which might be evident in some ways by the more experienced connoisseur of the English language. Does it really bother me? No, not really. People still read what I have to write.
I've never really understood the giant hustle bustle that comes with bigger towns and cities. I've never understood why people have to meet up at a place of business.
"Hey man, you want to meet up at E. Oli's Sushi Bar?"
"No, just meet me at my place."
"Really?"
"Yea, why not? I got beers and food here."
It's strange to me how some people just have an apartment to sleep in it. For the amount of money you drop to have an apartment you might as well live in it. Otherwise it's just a storage shed.
You pay out so much money a month so you can leave your belongings somewhere. Why not spend some time there? It's the one place that your the King (or Queen). Nothing costs a thing after you get it inside and if done right that could mean a lot. I always tend to have at least a 12 pack of some beer in the fridge and a couple different bags of chips. Good for game day with the possibility of a delivered pizza.
There are a lot of people I know in the industry that just don't do that. They'd much rather go out and hang out at some other bar. Get bumped around by jocks, preps, and hipsters. Really? I guess it really is different being a doorman as compared to a bartender.
"Man, you sure you don't wanna just meet up at E. Oli's?"
"Do what you wanna do man. I'm sittin here with my beer and big screen."
"Can I bring a couple people?"
"As long as they aren't any of the assholes from the bar."
The bartenders I know just want to be around people. They don't like the small crowds. They're so used to running up and down the bar. They deal with a lot of people all the time. So I guess it's just normal for them to want to be around a lot of people.
I, on the other hand, like to keep it low key. I like having a bare minimum of people around. That way it's more personal. People get to know people and they get to know how they work. I guess that just comes from dealing with thousands of people at work. I get to know you well enough and then I know if I'm going to have to deal with you. Some I get to know well.
"How bout Cale? I just saw him go over to the store."
"I said, 'No assholes from the bar'."
Of course being from two totally different positions of the establishment means two totally different ideas of who the assholes are.
"Well man, I'm just gonna go over to E. Oli's for some sushi. I'll give ya a call back if anythings going on."
"Yea, sounds good man. I'll be here."
And that's where I stay. I have no need to go do anything. I got my brew, my food, and my home. It's all I need after dealing with idiots all week.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Happy Birthday... Dick...
I see about 200 to 400 different i.d.'s a night. I look at the face, weight, height, expiration date, and the birth date. If it's not the 21st year (the year you have to be born in to be 21) I don't really look at the day.
For example: This is the year 2007, in order to be 21 years of age you had to have been born in the year 1986 on todays date. If you were born on Dec 12, 1986 then your still 20 years old and I'm not letting you in until Dec 12 comes around.
So does it really matter to me that it's your birthday? No. Honestly, I don't care. It doesn't matter to me at all whether it's your birthday or not. The only thing that matters to me is that your old enough to be in the establishment.
On an average night there's three or four people celebrating their birthdays. Half of them can make it in the place the other half are already too wasted to come in. I have no problems stopping a wasted person from coming into the establishment when they can barely stand up. Birthday or not.
It amazes me that people actually think that a doorman doesn't look at your birth date just because he doesn't make a big deal about it being your birthday. Who are you again? Oh that's right, your just a guy that walked in with a very few friends. Your not a regular and your not anyone really important. Your a customer just like the other 100 people that walked in earlier. The year is what's important not the day. The only time the date is important is when it's your 21st birthday. You should be used to that already.
I guess if your night has been going really well then you might smile and ask if I noticed the day. Then I'll look and say happy birthday. If your having a bad night you might complain to your friends that the doorguy didn't even notice.
Either way I don't know you so I probably don't care.
For example: This is the year 2007, in order to be 21 years of age you had to have been born in the year 1986 on todays date. If you were born on Dec 12, 1986 then your still 20 years old and I'm not letting you in until Dec 12 comes around.
So does it really matter to me that it's your birthday? No. Honestly, I don't care. It doesn't matter to me at all whether it's your birthday or not. The only thing that matters to me is that your old enough to be in the establishment.
On an average night there's three or four people celebrating their birthdays. Half of them can make it in the place the other half are already too wasted to come in. I have no problems stopping a wasted person from coming into the establishment when they can barely stand up. Birthday or not.
It amazes me that people actually think that a doorman doesn't look at your birth date just because he doesn't make a big deal about it being your birthday. Who are you again? Oh that's right, your just a guy that walked in with a very few friends. Your not a regular and your not anyone really important. Your a customer just like the other 100 people that walked in earlier. The year is what's important not the day. The only time the date is important is when it's your 21st birthday. You should be used to that already.
I guess if your night has been going really well then you might smile and ask if I noticed the day. Then I'll look and say happy birthday. If your having a bad night you might complain to your friends that the doorguy didn't even notice.
Either way I don't know you so I probably don't care.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Unassertive Encroaching...
No matter what you will always run into a person that is unassertively encroaching (aka: passive aggressive) They don't like to speak up about things that bother them. They'll sit back and hold in all their little complaints until they're a powder keg and then let it all out at once. This is not healthy in any means. Is it really worth it to let all that stuff build up inside you?
"Man, I just can't believe the type of stuff that goes on here."
"Well, you know who to talk to if somethings going on and it shouldn't be."
"Yea, but it's not my place to say anything."
"If it's bothering you then your the only one that can say anything."
"I just don't want to cause any waves."
They push things back and keep it in because they're scared to hurt feelings. I think the hurt feeling is there so that it can be used. Just like the other feelings like happy, sad, pain, ecstasy, and all the other dwarfs.
"Listen, if you don't put it out there then no one's going to know. So do something about it and don't just sit here and wallow in yourself..."
People that aren't able to get their feelings out tend to turn them inside. They get upset with themselves and with the events that are going on. They put themselves in a type of depression that is only lifted after they've burst.
"...If you don't let it out your just gonna make yourself miserable."
"Nah... I'll be fine."
"No you won't. You'll be bitchy until you get it out and then you'll just blow up."
"Yea, but things change then."
"Only for the next week because no one wants to talk to you. Then it starts all over again."
"It does seem that way..."
"That's because it is that way. So start telling people what you think at the time and quit worrying about hurting feelings. That's what they're there for."
Now here's the one thing I find interesting about passive aggressive people. They bitch and moan about something not being done and then when a solution for it is found they only do the solution for a short period of time. After that they quit doing it and the problem resurfaces all over again.
It really is a vicious circle that they can break out of but choose not too. Why not? They like the attention. They like knowing that people are talking about them even if it is in a bad way. That way they can feel sorry for themselves even more. If they're lucky they'll get some sap that will stick around and feel sorry for them too.
Then the question is, "Who's worse?" The passive aggressive or the idiot that sits around and puts up with their bullshit and praises them to make them feel better.
"Man, I just can't believe the type of stuff that goes on here."
"Well, you know who to talk to if somethings going on and it shouldn't be."
"Yea, but it's not my place to say anything."
"If it's bothering you then your the only one that can say anything."
"I just don't want to cause any waves."
They push things back and keep it in because they're scared to hurt feelings. I think the hurt feeling is there so that it can be used. Just like the other feelings like happy, sad, pain, ecstasy, and all the other dwarfs.
"Listen, if you don't put it out there then no one's going to know. So do something about it and don't just sit here and wallow in yourself..."
People that aren't able to get their feelings out tend to turn them inside. They get upset with themselves and with the events that are going on. They put themselves in a type of depression that is only lifted after they've burst.
"...If you don't let it out your just gonna make yourself miserable."
"Nah... I'll be fine."
"No you won't. You'll be bitchy until you get it out and then you'll just blow up."
"Yea, but things change then."
"Only for the next week because no one wants to talk to you. Then it starts all over again."
"It does seem that way..."
"That's because it is that way. So start telling people what you think at the time and quit worrying about hurting feelings. That's what they're there for."
Now here's the one thing I find interesting about passive aggressive people. They bitch and moan about something not being done and then when a solution for it is found they only do the solution for a short period of time. After that they quit doing it and the problem resurfaces all over again.
It really is a vicious circle that they can break out of but choose not too. Why not? They like the attention. They like knowing that people are talking about them even if it is in a bad way. That way they can feel sorry for themselves even more. If they're lucky they'll get some sap that will stick around and feel sorry for them too.
Then the question is, "Who's worse?" The passive aggressive or the idiot that sits around and puts up with their bullshit and praises them to make them feel better.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Invisible...
Being a doorman at a popular establishment is strange. While your at work everyone wants to know you and they see you clearly. When your not at work your pretty much invisible to everyone. Which is actually pretty nice. Lots of people have two different types of memory functions. The sober memory that remembers to take the dog to the vet and the Drunk memory that remembers what the doorman's name is and what he looks like. So most people have their sober memory working during the day and I stay invisible to them if they actually see me.
Sometimes I'm even invisible to some people when I'm right in front of their faces.
"What do you mean Mike's not here?" The woman speaking to me wasn't all that ugly. Her body had a great form with all the curves in the right places. "He better be here, or he ain't gettin any tonight!"
This just made me think, Who the hell is this chic?? I figured she was just trying to make a spectacle so that I would feel uneasy and let her in. "Listen, do you even know who Mike is?"
"I should. He's my baby's daddy." Now it really became interesting.
"Well, could you describe him to me? I haven't met him yet but I hear he's a real big shot around here."
"I don't have to describe anyone to you. If you don't let me in now you won't have a job tomorrow."
At this point the other people in line are all looking and I can hear some of them mumbling about. This woman was just getting louder with everything she said. Then she started to walk up to the door.
"Listen honey..."
"Don't you even honey me.."
"Listen, if your not with this Mike person that supposedly works here I can't let you in. Your gonna have to wait."
"Oh.. that's it. You ain't gonna have a job tomorrow!"
Just then, as if on cue, Megan walked up with a couple of her friends. "Hey Mike, I just have a couple friends. Think we can squeeze in?"
"Of course hun."
I turned to the loud mouthed woman and smiled. She stood there looking at me with her mouth wide open. "Miss, you never asked me what my name is. I don't know you so either wait in line or leave."
"That's just bullshit! You let me go on like that in front of all these people!?" she said as she spun around and started walking away. The crowd of people started laughing and she started telling them all to shut the hell up as she walked away.
It's funny how people never notice you until they want something from you. There are some people that know how to work this game and there are those that don't. Name dropping rarely ever works. The one time that it does guaranteed is when your a friend of an employee and that employee actually says something to the door staff about you showing up. Most other ways don't work at all.
Still the best way to slip into a place that has a line is hard cash. Just don't be cheap about it. If you want to act like a big man then pull out the big dollars, especially if you have people with you.
I still go out in the neighborhood occasionally and I take notice of the people that I meet at other establishments. If I see you enough then I help you out. I don't even expect you to do it for me, I could care less. I'm not about to shell out money to get into a place but I'll get into that at a different time.
I find it weird but comfortable that people don't recognize me while I'm out. It's kind of nice knowing that people don't notice me when I'm not at work. I've sat and had drinks with people I've thrown out before and listened to how they thought that "bouncer" was an asshole. Then I go on about how the guy is just doing his job and they agree. Sooner or later it comes out that I'm that asshole and everything is fine. They come back to the establishment and they're more aware of how I do things.
Now I just need to figure out how to work this invisible feat for personal gain.
Sometimes I'm even invisible to some people when I'm right in front of their faces.
"What do you mean Mike's not here?" The woman speaking to me wasn't all that ugly. Her body had a great form with all the curves in the right places. "He better be here, or he ain't gettin any tonight!"
This just made me think, Who the hell is this chic?? I figured she was just trying to make a spectacle so that I would feel uneasy and let her in. "Listen, do you even know who Mike is?"
"I should. He's my baby's daddy." Now it really became interesting.
"Well, could you describe him to me? I haven't met him yet but I hear he's a real big shot around here."
"I don't have to describe anyone to you. If you don't let me in now you won't have a job tomorrow."
At this point the other people in line are all looking and I can hear some of them mumbling about. This woman was just getting louder with everything she said. Then she started to walk up to the door.
"Listen honey..."
"Don't you even honey me.."
"Listen, if your not with this Mike person that supposedly works here I can't let you in. Your gonna have to wait."
"Oh.. that's it. You ain't gonna have a job tomorrow!"
Just then, as if on cue, Megan walked up with a couple of her friends. "Hey Mike, I just have a couple friends. Think we can squeeze in?"
"Of course hun."
I turned to the loud mouthed woman and smiled. She stood there looking at me with her mouth wide open. "Miss, you never asked me what my name is. I don't know you so either wait in line or leave."
"That's just bullshit! You let me go on like that in front of all these people!?" she said as she spun around and started walking away. The crowd of people started laughing and she started telling them all to shut the hell up as she walked away.
It's funny how people never notice you until they want something from you. There are some people that know how to work this game and there are those that don't. Name dropping rarely ever works. The one time that it does guaranteed is when your a friend of an employee and that employee actually says something to the door staff about you showing up. Most other ways don't work at all.
Still the best way to slip into a place that has a line is hard cash. Just don't be cheap about it. If you want to act like a big man then pull out the big dollars, especially if you have people with you.
I still go out in the neighborhood occasionally and I take notice of the people that I meet at other establishments. If I see you enough then I help you out. I don't even expect you to do it for me, I could care less. I'm not about to shell out money to get into a place but I'll get into that at a different time.
I find it weird but comfortable that people don't recognize me while I'm out. It's kind of nice knowing that people don't notice me when I'm not at work. I've sat and had drinks with people I've thrown out before and listened to how they thought that "bouncer" was an asshole. Then I go on about how the guy is just doing his job and they agree. Sooner or later it comes out that I'm that asshole and everything is fine. They come back to the establishment and they're more aware of how I do things.
Now I just need to figure out how to work this invisible feat for personal gain.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
So your tough huh?...
Over the weekend a friend of the establishment came in. She's in her late 20's and she's a very good sight to see. She's always smiling and she just seems to put people in a good mood. This night she walked up with her head slightly lowered and she wasn't as cheerful as she usually is. She just put her hand up as if to wave and said hello as she walked in.
I stepped in behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around quick and her eyes were wide open as if she was scared. "Hun, what's wrong?"
She put her hand up to the right side of her temple and looked down again. "Nothing, nothings wrong."
I reached up and slowly pulled her hand away from her face and looked at it. Her eye was swollen and there was a bandage on her temple. I bent over and gave her a hug and asked in her ear, "Who did this?"
She started to breath deep and I waved Casper over to watch the door. "I don't know, it just happened all at once. It was so quick," and she started to cry.
"When did it happen?"
"A few days ago, I didn't want you to know. Your always telling me not to walk alone."
"Did you get a look at him?"
"Yea, but he didn't get caught."
"You tell me if you see him. I'll return the favor to him."
One thing that really gets to me about women that leave the establishment by themselves is the fact that they leave by themselves. They leave alone and think they're perfectly safe to walk the 5 or 10 blocks to their home.
Really? You really think your so tough that no one is going to mess with you? Just like any other night club the place that I work at is surrounded by bums, gangbangers, and people that are desperate to get their fix. They'll do what ever they need to do to get the fix that they need whether it's heroin or rent money.
Here's the deal. If you go to a late night place with friends then leave with your friends. If your friends aren't ready to leave then take a cab home or to your car. The last thing I need is to find out you left my establishment and got mugged or raped. If you want me to get you a cab then ask me to and I will. That's a part of the game for me, I'm here to help as well as keep order.
And for all the ladies out there that say they can handle themselves. Prove it. I don't doubt that there are women out there that can, I know there are. I'm just saying to all the women out there that have the typical 9 to 5 and think life is grand. Life can change in the matter of a minute.
If you really think you can handle yourself then imagine what it might be like if a 6'3" 310lb man ran up behind you and grabbed you. Do you really think you could get away from him? Don't bother yelling rape because how many people in a big city is going to run out to help you? Not many. Your better off yelling fire or a celebrities name to get people's attention.
The man doesn't even have to be that big. He could be 5'9" and 180lbs. If he pulls a knife or a gun what are you going to do?
I only say to travel in a group because it's less likely that you will get attacked in that fashion. Typically a person isn't going to attack a group of people. Once in a great while you might get a junkie that will need his fix but with 2 or more people you should be able to fend him off.
I know your probably sitting there thinking this scenario through and what you might do but you never know what you will do until that time comes. You can practice all you want but you won't know if you'll use that until it actually happens. Fear is a bad and good thing. It can fuel your power or take it away in a second.
I try to keep up to date on occurrences in the area. The cops stop by every once in a while and let me know if they're looking for anyone and anything that has happened lately. They know that I'll do my best to warn people and try to keep them out of trouble. Whether they listen or not is up to them. I've even gone the extra step to actually hold someone to see if they can get away. It's changed a few minds about walking alone.
Besides, when you hear a story about someone getting raped after they left a certain place; would you want to go there?
I stepped in behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around quick and her eyes were wide open as if she was scared. "Hun, what's wrong?"
She put her hand up to the right side of her temple and looked down again. "Nothing, nothings wrong."
I reached up and slowly pulled her hand away from her face and looked at it. Her eye was swollen and there was a bandage on her temple. I bent over and gave her a hug and asked in her ear, "Who did this?"
She started to breath deep and I waved Casper over to watch the door. "I don't know, it just happened all at once. It was so quick," and she started to cry.
"When did it happen?"
"A few days ago, I didn't want you to know. Your always telling me not to walk alone."
"Did you get a look at him?"
"Yea, but he didn't get caught."
"You tell me if you see him. I'll return the favor to him."
One thing that really gets to me about women that leave the establishment by themselves is the fact that they leave by themselves. They leave alone and think they're perfectly safe to walk the 5 or 10 blocks to their home.
Really? You really think your so tough that no one is going to mess with you? Just like any other night club the place that I work at is surrounded by bums, gangbangers, and people that are desperate to get their fix. They'll do what ever they need to do to get the fix that they need whether it's heroin or rent money.
Here's the deal. If you go to a late night place with friends then leave with your friends. If your friends aren't ready to leave then take a cab home or to your car. The last thing I need is to find out you left my establishment and got mugged or raped. If you want me to get you a cab then ask me to and I will. That's a part of the game for me, I'm here to help as well as keep order.
And for all the ladies out there that say they can handle themselves. Prove it. I don't doubt that there are women out there that can, I know there are. I'm just saying to all the women out there that have the typical 9 to 5 and think life is grand. Life can change in the matter of a minute.
If you really think you can handle yourself then imagine what it might be like if a 6'3" 310lb man ran up behind you and grabbed you. Do you really think you could get away from him? Don't bother yelling rape because how many people in a big city is going to run out to help you? Not many. Your better off yelling fire or a celebrities name to get people's attention.
The man doesn't even have to be that big. He could be 5'9" and 180lbs. If he pulls a knife or a gun what are you going to do?
I only say to travel in a group because it's less likely that you will get attacked in that fashion. Typically a person isn't going to attack a group of people. Once in a great while you might get a junkie that will need his fix but with 2 or more people you should be able to fend him off.
I know your probably sitting there thinking this scenario through and what you might do but you never know what you will do until that time comes. You can practice all you want but you won't know if you'll use that until it actually happens. Fear is a bad and good thing. It can fuel your power or take it away in a second.
I try to keep up to date on occurrences in the area. The cops stop by every once in a while and let me know if they're looking for anyone and anything that has happened lately. They know that I'll do my best to warn people and try to keep them out of trouble. Whether they listen or not is up to them. I've even gone the extra step to actually hold someone to see if they can get away. It's changed a few minds about walking alone.
Besides, when you hear a story about someone getting raped after they left a certain place; would you want to go there?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Milquetoast Windbag Esq....
There are a lot of people out there that talk a lot. They say general things that are on everyone's minds and then talk it up like they're the first to think it and honestly feel a lot about it. Take Casper for example. He'll jump into the middle of a conversation and run with it. His opinions reflect that of the general populace so he's usually never wrong because he agrees with everyone.
"Man, fuck Osama! We should just go over there and blow up everyone until they hand him over!"
"You really think that'll work Casper?"
"Yea, why not? I'm sure after a thousand or so people they'll hand him over."
"Really? Even though they've been strapping bombs to their chests and blowing themselves up?"
"Sure."
"So your saying that if we start killing them at random it won't make them more angry and want to kill us even more? Not to mention the fact that they don't care about us at all or themselves."
"Sooner or later they'll see that we mean business. Who cares if we kill a few women and children in the process? Think about all the people they killed on 9/11."
"So that makes us better than them how?"
"Well, it doesn't make us any better than them but we'd find Osama a lot faster. Then we wouldn't have to worry about him being out there and planning another attack."
"You don't think we wouldn't piss off anyone else enough to want to do the same thing after we kill off their family?"
"Man, no one else would be stupid enough to attack us after we do something like that."
"Your genius just puts me in awe sometimes Casper. How do you even survive living in such an inadequate situation as you do?"
"Yea, I know, people been telling me for years that I'm pretty damn smart. But these people need to pay."
Even though we disagree on the topic, you'd be surprised how many people agree with Casper.
The world is full of idiots.
"Man, fuck Osama! We should just go over there and blow up everyone until they hand him over!"
"You really think that'll work Casper?"
"Yea, why not? I'm sure after a thousand or so people they'll hand him over."
"Really? Even though they've been strapping bombs to their chests and blowing themselves up?"
"Sure."
"So your saying that if we start killing them at random it won't make them more angry and want to kill us even more? Not to mention the fact that they don't care about us at all or themselves."
"Sooner or later they'll see that we mean business. Who cares if we kill a few women and children in the process? Think about all the people they killed on 9/11."
"So that makes us better than them how?"
"Well, it doesn't make us any better than them but we'd find Osama a lot faster. Then we wouldn't have to worry about him being out there and planning another attack."
"You don't think we wouldn't piss off anyone else enough to want to do the same thing after we kill off their family?"
"Man, no one else would be stupid enough to attack us after we do something like that."
"Your genius just puts me in awe sometimes Casper. How do you even survive living in such an inadequate situation as you do?"
"Yea, I know, people been telling me for years that I'm pretty damn smart. But these people need to pay."
Even though we disagree on the topic, you'd be surprised how many people agree with Casper.
The world is full of idiots.
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