Damn Fags ....

I'm oh so very much enjoying being back amongst my peeps. But I'd forgotten what a handful gay employees can be. I got spoiled (HA!) at my previous job. All the bartenders were well over 30 and they were responsible, reliable and self-sufficient. Not so much with the gay boys. You have to remind them to do the same thing the same nights over and over again or (tee-hee) they just plum forget. We just started accepting credit cards at the bar, and they are looking at the Veri-phone machine like we just introduced them to fire. But honestly, we pack out the beer every night at the end of the night. Unless of course I forget to say the magic words: "Did you pack out the beer, baby doll?"

So my first night closing alone this week. It was a slow Tuesday and it was cold and wet. As an aside, ENOUGH ALREADY with the rain! It really, truly is ridiculous. Anyhoo, I was already pitchin' a fit as I had determined that one of the bartenders was missing money from his register. This has happened before when I was new to a job and it's incredibly awkward. The bartender doesn't know who the hell you are and you're saying he's short money. How does he know you're telling him the truth and not ripping him off? For that matter, how do I know the reverse? In the end, money was missing from the register due to a malfunction in the drawer. But it was well near 6 a.m. before that was determined. It was when I began closing up the outside that the real fun began. At first, I thought nothing of the fact that the only locks I found were for the opposite side of the club. I just assumed they had been switched. So there was little me jumping up trying to grab the gate and missing by a mile each time. In the rain. After several attempts I finally noticed some strategically placed pipework that made the whole endeavor simplicity itself. Thankfully, (or not, I can't decide) I decided to glance down at the club door before toddling on home. In the rain. Imagine my surprise when I realized the gate I assumed was pulled and locked by one of the bartenders was instead wide open. And imagine how thrilled I was to realize that the only way back inside to lock up properly was through the gate I had just pulled and locked. So I dutifully if not pathetically unlocked everything, fumbled with my keys to find one I had never even used before to let myself back inside, up and down two flights of stairs. I finally found the actual correct locks for the correct gates, locked up both sides of the club correctly and toddled on home. In the (now) pouring rain.

It was actually kind of peaceful in a wet and clammy way. Very few people out and about at that hour. Going on 6:30 a.m. and still dark and gloomy. I oddly enjoyed it. That is, until I found myself about two blocks from my castle high atop Second Ave. When I absent-mindedly patted my jacket in anticipation of some dry clothes and a quick voddie/soda. I was confirming the location of my house keys. Only there was nothing there. I quickly patted down every pocket. Nothing. I found myself crouched under an awning, frantically pawing through my knapsack hoping against hope I had thrown them in there. I looked like a crackhead looking for a last, lost rock. But alas, it finally became apparent that I had most likely left the keys back at the club somewhere during the lock, unlock fiasco. I had no choice but to turn back. Now I truly felt pathetic.

I could have gone home and tried to roust The Ex, it was late (early) enough that he would be wake-able. But the keys to the club were on there too. I had visions of some homeless guy ducking under our awning to get dry and finding the keys to a candy store right there for the taking. Nice way to start my new job. With a break in. So I walked down the fifteen blocks back to the club. The soaking rain being the least of my worries now. For a gut wrenching minute they weren't there and then yes, on the steps down to the club I spotted them. Thank god. I scooped them up and headed back home. It was only when I was halfway back and after I confirmed it was just after 7 a.m. that I remembered I had a 2 p.m. Dr's appointment. god. damn. it. As evidenced by my previous entry, I made it on time. Miraculously.

Side benefit to the new job. Internet access. Blogging at work is fun again.