I worked as a hostess many years ago in a drinking club. Basically they existed at the time to get round Britain’s licensing laws – it was ostensibly a private club, but you could join at the door if you suddenly decided you wanted to drink until the morning.

We got paid a flat fee if we stayed all night (23.00-06.00 from what I remember) and a kickback on any drink bought by “our” customers after they had spent a certain amount. Bottles of champagne had a special premium, so you got those if you could.

Now getting drunk was seriously frowned on, but the best way to encourage customers to drink was to pretend a fierce thirst and get them to keep up with you (another reason it was better to get them on champagne rather than spirits). So girls were encouraged to ditch their drinks – tip them into plant pots, take them to the Ladies with them, spill them etc. I seem to remember there was a special name for it, but I can’t say I remember now. There were apparently ways of doing it which weren’t obvious, but I was like some sort of French farce when I tried, so I usually ended up quite drunk. Luckily I am quite a sober drunk, so I did get away with it.

There wasn’t anything sordid about it (I was only there a few weeks, there may have been things I wasn’t aware of) it was just about after hours drinking and female company. I learned a whole fund of silly games and conversation starters – quite like the threads in Nothingland to be honest. I wasn’t very good at making money, but I got on well with the other girls who worked there. The more experienced ones would write off a night and go home if they didn’t have any customers by a certain time, but I would stay in order to get my flat fee and drink with the other girls’ parties. Of course this raised their sales and made the party more entertaining, and sometimes I’d be slipped a folded up note for my trouble (it was gutting to get to the toilets and realise it was a phone number when you were hoping for £10!)

Worked cleaning up stalls at a hog farm. You cannot imagine. A few interesting situations as a newspaper photog. Some disturbing encounters as a civil servant. I'm now working in elementary education and it ranks a close second to the hog farm since I have an adversion to bodily waste and fluids.

As some of you know, I moved back to St. Louis in 2005 after 6 years on the East Coast. Only days after I moved back, my brother hooked me up with a job as a pizza delivery driver for a local chain, where I work to this day. It's been good because it's given me an in-depth view of South City (where I grew up and still live) and what has changed since I left in 1999. And I've seen some unusual shit that I used to only read about and maybe experience occasionally:

--Being offered a beer in the middle of a shift by a customer
--Being offered pot as a tip by a customer
--Seeing body parts on customers that shouldn't be seen by anyone
--Seeing body parts on women that should be seen by any straight male or lesbian
--Walking through a crowd of tough-looking black guys
--Going into seedy apartment buildings in seedy neighborhoods
--Delvering some of the most disgusting pizza combinations known to man (broccoli on a pizza? WTF?)

At least it's never boring.

Reading stories about pizza delivery made me want to be one. Also they continue to make me give outrageously large tips every time. The other day I gave the dude $27. on a $22. charge. It is a cheap way to earn their love.

Some days, I just fucking hate it. Our main store (where I work) is in a borderline area, and every delivery is a real crapshoot. I can go to a $500,000 mansion followed by a crack-ridden apartment building. And while people that don't tip piss me off (I make $2.25 a delivery plus tips), I can't help but wonder if a lot of folks even understand the concept of tipping a delivery driver.

On Sundays, I work at another store the bosses own (they own 4). It's in a nice area near where April and I live. The tips are much better and the people are friendlier...it's a great way to spend a Sunday. And the amount of craziness is severely reduced...I never have to worry about getting robbed or assaulted. I wish someone would quit at this store so that I could primarily work there.

But I'd keep at least one day at the main store. It's in the area where I grew up, and it has real character...and characters.

I did this for a time.

one of my very first jobs was as an answering service operator. They had this old equipment (old even for then,LOL!)--the kind where you insert the cords into the phone jacks, just like you see on tv. Woo boy! that was fun! We did a taxi dispatch on the side, too, which was -- not to fun. But I was good at it!