At one point in high school, I vowed never again to work in the food industry. While the hours and pay weren't bad, the job itself was very mentally and physically exhausting.
Fast forward several years later to my sophomore year of college and a friend of mine, named Ben, calls me and says that he has a job offer for me.
He explained to me that to make some money on the side, he worked on and off doing catering jobs serving panda tears mixed with the blood of Christ to rich, white people (or something along those lines), and asked if I wanted to help him on a special event. I accepted after realizing that the only thing I had better to do that night was read a book, play chess against myself, or reconsider my worth as a human being.
So here's the briefing. A man and his wife are throwing a private holiday party at his house and Ben, another one of our coworkers whose name I can't remember but for now let's just call him Suzy, and I are to act as bartenders. Ben, Suzy, and I arrive in an upper-class part of town dressed in black about to handle our business. We set out the wine bottles and other assorted liquors as to prepare for the evening's shenanigans.
I had feared that we would be glorified bus boys. Filthy peasants to do the wealthy's bidding. However this couldn't have been farther from the truth. The party was great and everyone was surprisingly friendly to us. Sure the alcohol may have had something to do with it, but shut up I'm trying to tell a story here.
One man puked all over the bathroom, one woman fell flat on her face just outside of the house, one woman started suggesting several different sexual positions to Ben and me, at which Ben laughed, she laughed, and I died a little on the inside because my sex life works out about as often as Western European peace treaties (highbrow joke). Ben and I also sang along with the song "Somebody That I Used To Know" by Gotye, which was one of the highlights of the night according to the host. Speaking of which, the host got hammered and payed us way more than we were due, and his wife apologized for slamming a bottle of wine onto a desk.
Overall, the catering job was a good experience. Getting paid to sip drinks and flirt with sheltering, suburban, desperate housewives? There but for the grace of God go I.
