At the beginning of every summer, somebody always says, “This is going to be the best summer ever!” As much as I’ve always admired this early-June spurt of optimism, I’ve been pretty convinced that my best summer ever came and went a long time ago. Perhaps I was wrong.
A few members of the Woody’s staff got to participate in a Budweiser beer training program this afternoon on The B Lounge – the Bud Bus.
The bus was totally decked out — tile floor, leather couches, flat-screen TVs, and a mini-bar with Bud and Bud Light on tap.
Afterwards, as I was sitting at the bar having lunch and sipping a Bud Light, it occurred to me that life is pretty sweet when you can spend a Monday afternoon drinking and having a good time with your friends. I don’t have the same kind of job and schedule as everyone else, but I’m so happy right now, it doesn’t matter anymore. My schedule works for me, I love my jobs, my new friends are totally fun, and being able to party whenever I want makes it all ten times better.
I never thought I’d be waitressing in Jersey again this summer, but I can’t think of any place I’d rather spend the coming months. So, now it’s my turn: Beaches, bars, beer, boys, and Belmar — this is going to be the best summer ever.
I swear I’m still alive. I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth. I’ve just been caught up in a whirlwind of shopping, drinking, working, packing, etc. This has been an incredibly crazy week. I feel like I’ve been partying like a rock star for the past eight days. I’ve been to six bars, three malls, and NYC, worked seven shifts at two jobs, met a ton of new people, and experienced some entertaining occurences. Brian W. passed out at Bar A the other night in a beach chair. Meghan’s car ran out of gas last night as she was following me down Belmar Blvd. from work around midnight. Brian purchased 10 wristbands from Abercrombie & Fitch at $12.50 per wristband, and when asked why, responded, “Money is not an issue for me.”
Since there aren’t enough words in the English language for me to describe the week I’ve had, I’ll just do my best with last night. I arrived at work a few minutes late because I was frantically applying self-tanner in the bathroom an hour before I had to be there. When I arrived, Brian asked me if I had a cell phone charger he could use.
“For what kind of phone?” I asked.
“Right, but who makes the phone?”
“You retard, Verizon doesn’t make their own phones. Mine is an LG, is that what yours is?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Brian, you are so gifted. Look. Your phone is a – say it with me now – Motorola. Motorola.”
“So, no, I don’t have a phone charger for you.” This was the end of the phone charger part of the conversation, but here’s what happened next. On Wednesdays, we have $1.00 Miller Lite mugs. I had a table that kept ordering mugs and eating popcorn, but hadn’t ordered any dinner yet. By my third trip to the bar for beer and popcorn, Brian got annoyed. “Can I have my mugs, Mr. Bartender?” I asked.
“Yeah, okay.” He grabbed two un-chilled mugs and sidled up to the tap. “How do you like this?”
I watched, dumbfounded, as he filled them with Coors Light with this doofy grin on his face like he just pulled off the biggest scandal in history. “Why are you such an asshole?” I asked.
“You know you love me,” he responded.
The rest of the night went similarly. It was a constant struggle with my tables, with the bartenders, and with the busboy, but it was all in good fun and well worth the money.
After I was done working, I scampered into the bathroom where I unpacked my new Tumi backpack and changed into my new Diesel jeans so that I could sit at the bar and have a Bud Light with Meghan and Mike, her pseudo-boyfriend. I met Mike last Wednesday while he was whining to Meghan that his new job at Tesauro’s didn’t start until the end of June and that he needed some way to make money before then. I remembered that my dad needed some help fixing up our new house before we move in, so I gave Mike his number. Now Mike is helping my dad knock down walls and shit in our kitchen for $10 an hour.
“It’s so funny,” Mike said to me last night, “I can’t believe I’m working with your dad and I just met you last week here.”
“Yeah, see? Most people wouldn’t have called. But, you got a pretty good deal, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s awesome. Your dad is a funny guy. He knows how to do everything,” Mike said.
We got to experience this firsthand a few hours later. While Meghan was following me down Belmar Blvd. to Jack’s in Neptune, she ran out of gas. So, I called my dad and he came and filled up her tank with one of those big red plastic gas containers. After he left, she said, “Wow, Mike’s right. Your dad is awesome. And he does know how to do everything. I’m glad he showed up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like we’re becoming a clique. You, me, Mike, and my dad. Maybe we should just take him out to Bar A next Tuesday.”
She laughed, we went into the bar, she ordered us drinks, I talked to a guy from high school, she sang karaoke, and then we left. I came home, went for a quick run (at 2:30 a.m.), took my work clothes out of my bag and popped them into the washer, took a shower, put clean sheets on my bed, read for awhile, and finally fell asleep around four.
Now it’s time to do it all over again — I have to be at work in two hours. But, now it’s Thursday, which means it’s Bud Bingo night, Chris is behind the bar, I’m the food runner, and I need to bring something even cuter to change into after work because – although I’m supposed to stay in and watch a movie with Rob later – Thursday is a Bar A night, and I’m sure that’s where I’ll eventually end up.
This is why I love my job.
Way back in the day, there were Wine Wednesdays. Woody’s Wednesdays are even cooler.
Life is sweet.