Survival Job

I try to keep this blog relatively free of complaining... but I feel that it's unrealistic to ignore the one glaring bane of my existence.

I am very, very lucky to have a job where I only have to work 3 days a week and make enough to live off of.  I have time to pursue my other dreams and actual career goals.  It is relatively low stress, and I never have to bring it home with me. This is something I repeat in my head over and over and over and over again.

However, my survival job is slowly but surely driving me NUTS.  I work as a cocktail waitress.  I'm willing to assume that the term "cocktail waitress" evokes this image in your head:

Swanky bar.  Fancy drinks.  Business men slipping you 50's for no reason.

The reality of my job:

(actual photo taken during one of my shifts)

I have to pick my way through a thick crowd of belligerent drunk people while carrying a tray full of drinks and pitchers of beer.  Drunk people are really exactly like mules.  They don't move, even with lots of prodding, and once they do it's slow and clumsy.  I can't even count the number of times a drunk person has knocked an entire tray of drinks all over me and then gotten mad at ME.  I had one guy call me a not very nice four letter word last night after I asked him to move out of the way by poking him with a pitcher of beer. (You also have to imagine that top 40 music is blaring so loudly you can barely hear yourself think.  Saying "excuse me" is about as effective as using fabric softener on steel wool.)  Then there are the countless tables that treat you like you are less than human, are offended when it takes you more than 5 minutes to get through the crowd to get them their drinks, and then tip you $4 on a $96 tab (that actually happened last night).  Some of the drunk people in the crowd retain a shred of their humanity as they down shots of tequila and pitchers of beer, but they are few and far between.

Of course, what makes my job worth it is the volume of humans that come through the door, and the UESers with lots of money who DO tip well.  I wouldn't still be doing it after over a year if the pros didn't outweigh the cons... but last night, at approximately 2 am, I hit a wall.  I couldn't imagine taking one more table.  Talking to one more drunk person.  Dealing with one more sour puss, gossip girl-esque, drama queen.  I forgot my mantra, and this was what I was repeating in my head:

"I have two college degrees.  Why am I doing this?!"

I got home from work at 5 am, after working until 5 am the night before and getting 5 hours of sleep in between.  I accidentally slept through my alarm today and woke up at 1 pm feeling like a lazy bum.  But... from 9 am Friday until 5 am this morning, I had only gotten 5 hours of sleep... so I suppose I earned that 8 hours of sleep. Right?  But I tell you, my survival job is killing me slowly.  

No one ever said survival jobs were fun, and I am counting my blessings... but... I just found myself Googling yoga teacher training.  I qualify.  I could do it.  I could become a Bikram instructor to survive... but it costs, I KID YOU NOT, $10,700 to do.  And then once you're certified, you don't get paid all that well.  So... it looks like I'm stuck being a bar wench for the time being.  But, according to my one year goals, by this time next year I'll only have to work 2 nights a week at my survival job, because I'll be raking in money in other ways.  And neither of those two nights will be a Friday or a Saturday--aka my own personal hell where drunk girls are doing coke off the toilet seats.

Because that happens.