Tales from the Hunt

I spent the entirety of last night on Craigslist, responding to postings.

I got one hit back from this Latin club within an hour of sending them my shizzle.  They wanted an interview today.

Between my "of indeterminate and curiously mixed heritage" looks and the general pretty-hot-and-tempting nature of my bartending photos, I think that's what got me such a rapid hit back... because it definitely couldn't have been my skimp resume.

I woke this morning (later than I meant to) and did more Craigslist stuff, and then I got ready to skiddadle and go to my interview.  An hour away.

I would prefer to work somewhere closer to my apartment or my school, but beggars can't be choosy.  And although I'm currently living off of money from my trust fund, I don't want to keep doing that.  I'd like it to remain there as a cushion.  So!  Off I went into the pouring rain to hop on a train in hope of the gain... of a job.  (I never was that good at rhyming.).  

Smart Nikki remembered to bring her resume and photo selection as well as my mixology certificate (not that it actually means much).

Stupid Nikki forgot to bring the number I was supposed to call to be let into the building.  Luckily, Stupid Nikki has great friends whom I can trust to go into my email account for me and find vital information.  Lucky Nikki.

So, I go into the club and there's like 6 young Latina women practicing for a beauty pageant or something.  The guy directing them across the floor is SO flamboyant.  Cross-culturally, the dynamic of the small-town beauty pageant/fashion show/hair show is the same.  Lots of young women with stars and dollar signs in their eyes and some guy in some combination of silk, leather and spandex with a slight lisp showing them how to strut in heels.  I love universality.

I'm met by the bar manager, who gives me a rapid interview.

As she scanned over my resume, her eyebrows rose, "Oh, you went to bartending school, good good.  ...So how much experience you have?"

I thought about lying on my resume, but you can't lie about years of behind-the-bar experience when you're OBVIOUSLY only 21.  And I wasn't about to say 6 months; hell no!  "Well, I've been bartending unofficially since I was seventeen," I laughed easily.

"Well, I'll put down 5 years then," she smiled back.

Score!

She took a look at my photo selection.  "Wow.  Beautiful.  Very nice.  Yeah, I remember these pictures."

Yep.  I look pretty killa-killa in a bikini, yo!

Score!  I took a memorable photo!

We talked a little more about the club and what my requirements would be.  I made sure to tell her I speak Spanish.  (I wasn't lying.  I speak enough Spanish to get by.  We just have to keep it to the present or past tense.  And speak mas despacio and use simple words and phrases, por favor.).  

It's all the way uptown (or I'll be in the Bronx location), but l don't mind that right now.  I just want to make money.  Plus!  If I get hired by this club I'll get to practice my Spanish (and probably learn some creative phrases, lol) and learn some new dances.  I can sacrifice an hour of time for cultural enlightenment.  If they want to train me, I'll find out by the end of the week.

In the meantime:

Going for another interview in Queens tomorrow.  Randomly stopping by two Brooklyn bars as well.  Still all over Craigslist.

hustleBABYhustle.