Crappy Job #1: Waitress at Big Peckers

Since I’m currently in Ocean City, Maryland for a bachelorette party, I thought I would dedicate this post to my waitressing career, which began (and ended) right here at Big Pecker's Bar & Grill.

I decided to work at Big Pecker's because I’d always dreamed of serving up greasy burgers while wearing a super short tennis skirt and a t-shirt with a giant cartoon rooster on it.  Okay, no, I wanted to spend the summer at the beach while saving money for my junior year abroad in London.  I only budgeted about $50 a month for rent, so I shared a lovely pink garden shed with three other girls.  Seriously, here's a picture...

In addition to waiting on tables, my duties included mandatory karaoke performances by the wait staff; chasing after mullet-sporting rednecks who skipped out on the bill; and squeegeeing the glass around the perimeter of the restaurant in my obscenely short skirt, eliciting car horns from the drunken senior weekers cruising down Coastal Highway.  It was an interesting summer, to say the least.

After I leave a job, I always assess the pros and cons in the hope that I will choose more wisely next time.  The following is my analysis of waitressing at Big Peckers:

PROS

• I did manage to save an impressive sum of money, which I blew on alcohol and bumming around Europe.
• It was my easiest job interview to date.  The manager looked me up and down and handed me the infamous tennis skirt.
• I discovered my talent for carrying extremely heavy trays on my fingertips.
• I am now an excellent tipper.
• I think everyone should be yelled at and belittled by an irate customer at least once in their life.  It builds character.

CONS

• I can’t even tell you how many times I was forced to sing Donna Summer’s “We Work Hard for the Money.”  Did I mention I’m a terrible singer?
• I can no longer eat ranch dressing, after making buckets of it from scratch.  The secret recipe: combine one tub of extra heavy mayonnaise, one giant carton of fatty buttermilk, and a teeny-tiny packet of seasoning.
• I left the beach paler than when I arrived – the result of working 12-hour shifts, 6 days a week.
• My fellow students at the London School of Economics had all spent their summers interning at investment banks.  I had to say I worked at a prestigious company called B.P. Incorporated.

Now I shall have a beer in honor of waiters and waitresses everywhere…  Happy Labor Day weekend!