This Has Nothing to do with Alcohol

Um, yeah... so... this post has nothing to do with alcohol. At all. I apologize in advance, but I still think I might have something worthwhile to say.

I'm sitting here packing for my weekend trip to the Hamptons with a still as yet unspecified number of my friends, and I just got to thinking...

(Well, I didn't just get to thinking. I was actually talking about relationships with the woman who has a nonprofit across the street from me, and thinking about the words my grandmother said to me from beyond. [Yes, the deceased do speak, if you're willing to listen.]).

Man, I've learned a lot of good lessons from all the relationship drama I've been through. And man, I don't know how I want to handle them going forward... 'cause man... man... my world-view has been tainted and I don't know what's right or wrong anymore.

I'm too nice to be a proper heartbreaker (I'm more aloof and oblivious than cold and cruel) and too self-absorbed to be a proper sweetheart. I used to be a real sweetie, though. I was THE Ride-or-Die Chick. THE Make-Dinner-for-You-on-a-Whim Chick. The Kiss-You-Anyway-When-You're-Sick-'Cause-I-Even-Love-Your-Germs Chick. When my boyfriend (at the time) and I offended our friends by arriving late to a get-together after we said we'd be an hour (hey... some things take longer than an hour if you're doin it right), after he tried to greet his best friend, his friend said, "Nah, sahn. I don't fucks with you!" My immediate reply was, "that's okay, 'cause I do!" That's the kind of girl I was.

It wasn't having my heart broken by the stereotypical "Bad Guy" that changed me though. I mean, I did have my heart broken, but he wasn't a bad guy... he was a scared, confused guy. It wasn't even a brief encounter with a violent, possessive guy. The straw that broke the camel's back (besides age) was a nice guy. That's right. The "Nice Guy" was the one who made me say "to hell with it."

And thus began my string of flings (which I'm winding down from. It's boring and I either want something REAL good, something REAL fun, or nothing at all).

How did this happen? He was too nice. He was too cautious. He was... rather condescending, actually. He pushed me away right when things started taking off only to later explain that he was trying to figure out who was real and who wasn't... and then came back. (They ALWAYS come back.). Too late, not interested... at all. The worst thing you can do to me is doubt my realness.

I feel like I'm at another turning point in how I view men and relationships. I know what I ultimately want in that regard: a husband I don't secretly/not-so-secretly hate and three adorable kids, but not anytime soon. There are a lot of changes I need to go through and experiences I need to have before I'm ready to seriously think about any of that.

I've done the steady girlfriend thing. I've done the "I'm going to focus on me" thing. I've done the "let's just play it by ear" thing. I've done the "we're just friends, but we go out on dates" thing. I've done the chick-on-the-side thing (don't judge me). I've done the playette thing. I've done the "it's 3 am, where you at?" thing. (Sounds like I've done a lot of things. Pause.).

I guess what I'm ready for now is the next thing. And I know what I want that next thing to be, but I have the feeling that what I'm going to get is going to surprise me. It always does.

BONUS! QUOTES from MY MOMMY:

After my first breakup:

"Niggas come and go, but mama will always love you."

"If I see him on the street, I'm going to push him into oncoming traffic. Just kidding!"

After my encounter with scary, violent, crazy man:

Mom: "He had a little dick, didn't he?"

Me: "Mom! ...Yes."

Mom: *Cackles* "See? Mama always knows! Five-minute, squiggly dick."

...My mother is a dentist with an expansive vocabulary and normally speaks with impeccable grammar (though she does have a potty mouth in private). Even after 22 years of her being my mother, I'm still shocked when she says such things.

Back In Black... No Really... I'm Burnt.

So, I returned from Miami on Sunday... chilled at my parents' place until Monday evening, when I arrived back in New York, minus (-) my phone charger and an unspecified amount of my checking account, plus (+) a skin cancer-worthy tan and some lessons learned:

-If it doesn't feel right, it isn't right. Alright, so I already knew this one, but intuition is one of those "easily-ignored-because-they're-so-abstract" things. The trip to Miami was for my high school best friend's birthday, and when it was planned, it included four people: me, her, and two of her other besties (one of whom is also one of mine). Eventually, more people were added... people I either didn't know, didn't really care too much for, or hadn't talked to in ages. I didn't really feel right going; I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to enjoy myself, but I went anyway because it was for my friend's birthday. Lesson rephrased: don't commit yourself to something you know you can't actually do in the interest of keeping up appearances. My line of thinking went something like this: if I don't go, I'm a bad friend AND I'll look petty and immature because I'm not going because I don't want to be around the other guests.

But you know what? I've discovered that real maturity is making decisions based upon what you know you're capable of, and real friendship isn't based upon appearances. I would've better served my friend by coming down to MD to see her off for her trip/welcome her back and giving her a gift then. Instead, I was visibly Miserable-In-Miami and felt like I'd essentially wasted my money on a vacation that wasn't very relaxing at all.

I knew I wasn't going to enjoy the trip before we even took off. When, in the airport, my high school bestie introduced her college bestie to one of the girls I didn't know with, "and this is my best friend, ____," and didn't even bother to introduce me. And then said girl I didn't know copped an attitude with me when I questioned her suggestion that we take shots on the plane. Bad omens.

Do you know how frustrating it is to try to be nice to and sociable with someone who does nothing but stare at you? (Except when she wasn't around her core group... when she was outnumbered by "the original trip people" she was fine). ...And for the record, the reason I've even been on-the-outs with this person (none of which matters anymore), was firstly because I was angry at her and couldn't fake politeness, and secondly because she wrote me a highly contradictory apology which I couldn't accept for all of its contradictions and hurtful insinuations. I don't know what reason she has to stare at me. To not flip out at rude-ass, pretentious little bitches (TWO of them!) who can't at least do the fake "we're all girlfriends!" thing? To feel like a freaking camper, shuttled into group activities that I had nothing to do with? To have plans made and NO ONE tells you what the hell is going on? I just didn't have a good time. Thus, I have learned:

-Do what YOU want. Alright, so you've got to take other people into account sometimes, but you can't be of any good use to anyone else if you're not happy. It shows. My other friend told me that, "the best day I've had so far on this trip is the day I spent by myself." And you know? I wish I'd spent a day waking up early and eating breakfast by myself, going swimming and tanning on the beach by myself, going back to eat and read my book by myself, then maybe take a nap and meeting up with everyone else later. If I'd felt like I'd had some modicum of control or choice in the whole trip, I think it wouldn't have been so bad for me. To the extent that you're able, always make sure what you're doing is what you want... otherwise you'll be bitter.

It wasn't all bad, though... I enjoyed playing volleyball in the water with 3 cute Italian guys. (Which has cemented my decision to go to Italy next summer). The water was nice. There were some good moments. I've also learned that wine makes me EXTREMELY giggly (or maybe just the fact that I drank a whole bottle?). I picked up an addiction to a television show called Bones (I just watched three straight episodes tonight, in fact). I learned some valuable lessons, the last of which being:

If I ever want to get my mother to affect a pained, worried expression and moan, "oh, my poor baby doesn't know how to take care of herself!" all I have to do is get a sunburn.

...Yes, she actually did say that in response to me getting a sunburn. My mom's a special lady. I love her.

My Gameplan for This Week:

-Figure out how I'm going to pay for fashion school.

-Finish this marketing package for my producer friend.

-Finish this business plan and case for donations for my family's non-profit.

-Go to my sewing class and figure out exactly how I'm going to volunteer there.

-Go to The Hamptons with an unspecified group of people in an unspecified location by an unspecified means of transportation and have a completely undignified amount of fun!

The Most Important Debriefing You Will Ever Get. In LIFE.

My bad ya'll... I completely forgot that I hadn't filled you in on some of the most important details about my blog and my life as a bartender.

The Origins of the Title: No Water After 9 PM

So, I was out at a party, doing my usual party girl thing, drinking a little more than I probably should've, dancing with a little harder than I probably should've (in a DRESS that I was told looked more like a nightgown), and someone asked me what I was drinking.

"Jack and Coke," I replied.  "You?"

"Water," he replied.

For whatever reason, I took it personally that he wasn't joining the rest of us in tipsy merriment.  "Water!?" I demanded.  "WATER!?"

He laughed.  "Yeah... water.  It's pretty good, actually."

I shook my head emphatically.  "NO.  WATER.  AFTER.  NINE.  PM."

And thus my trademark statement was born.

My Name

Is not Nikki.  However, my mother wanted to name me Nikki-Dana Vanessa. Gag.  (So glad my dad got his choice).  Sometimes, I like the sound of Nikki-Dana though, and it's the first name that comes to mind when men ask me "ay girl, what yo' name is?" at the club and I don't really want to answer.  So, Nikki is what I named my nighttime personality.  Nikki and I are the same person, she's just that much more.

My Place of Work

Okay, so I'm not using the real names of any of these places or anyone's real name, so every thing's going to be coded.  Got it?

From now on, my place of work is simply: The Club.  Simple, easy to remember.

My Coworkers

(Okay, you're not expected to remember all of these people, but use this list as a reference whenever they pop back up).

• The Waitresses

1. Accent - 'cause she got an accent.  Duh.
2. Sweetness - because she's really sweet
3. Grandame - 'cause she's older than the establishment itself
4. Flip - 'cause her hair is flipped and it looks cool
5. Silly Girl - self-explanatory
6. Twilight - because she was reading it when I started working and COULD NOT put it down.

• The Strippers  (do you know how hard it is to come up with aliases for people that already have them?!)

1. Pretty Jealous - she's really pretty, but she hates on me SO hard.
2. Mamacita - she speaks Spanish fluently
3. You Can't Handle It - she's always talking about how no one can handle her
4. Firecracker - she's very expressive
5. Li'l Bit - she's young, short, and tiny
6. Token - self explanatory
7. Dollface - she looks like a porcelain doll

• The Bar Managers
  

1. Big Sis - she's the big sister to one of the doormen
2. Hey Mama - she's not that much older than me, but she's such a little mom
3. HWIC - Head Woman In Charge (I refuse to refer to her as Bitch 'cause she's SO not).

• The Other Bartenders
  

1. Cinnamon - that's what her hair color reminds me of
2. Bubbles - she's bubbly

• The Owner
  

1. HMIC - Head Man In Charge  (He is NOT a Nigga.)

• The DJ

1. Awww Yeah - 'cause he says it so well

• The Doormen
  

1. Lungs - 'cause he's always loud for no reason
2. Snaggle - snaggle tooth
3. Initial - he only goes by one letter of his name
4. The Girl - self-explanatory
5. Holla - 'cause he's always tryin to get at me

• The Bar Backs
  

1. Dallas - 'cause he always wears a Cowboys jersey
2. Chill - he's really cool, very helpful, does his job without intrusion.  I like him.

• The Cleanup Crew/Drivers
  

1. King - inside joke
2. Tambourine - inside joke I overheard and don't know what it means

• The Food Delivery Men
  

1. Hunan - 'cause that's where he delivers the food from

I Have to Count? ...By Myself?!

Sorry I've been gone so long, but I've been on my hustle.  The places I applied to all wanted more experience, but I kept at it and... I finally got a bar job!  Woo hoo!  Now you can expect plenty of alcohol-infused juiciness to come =)

I'm working another strip club; it's located in the 'hood rather than DC's power-district, but the money is still good.  And the dancers are better.  I swear, the girls at the (mostly) white club just sway back and forth and make faces.  The dancers at this strip club put on a show.  ...Not that I see much of it anyway; I pretty much just see the endless line of people in front of me requesting drinks.  And let me tell you, getting behind the bar "forreal" is completely different from bartending school.  I've definitely learned some real life lessons:

1.  How to count.  

It's my not-so-secret shame that I cannot count.  At all.  In fact, numbers tend to make me nervous.  When I walked behind the bar at the club I was confronted with a cash register that must date back to 1975.  There are no electronics involved in that hunk of metal.  You have to know the prices of everything off the top of your head, punch the dollar amount in using typewriter-like buttons in denominations of 10, 1, .10 and .01., and then count out the change yourself.  This presented a serious problem for me.  It's been so bad that the waitresses usually help me out by telling me the correct amount of change to give them.

The first two nights I counted up things incorrectly, but the third night I got it right.  I was so proud of myself when my boss told me, "and by the way, the money's right," after he finished counting down the drawer at the end of the night that I pumped my fist and said, "yessss!  I'm proud of myself when I can count correctly."  At this, one of the strippers replied, "we're proud of you too bitch!"  I smiled and said thank you.

2.  The only thing bartending school really gives you is drink knowledge, and even then... the bar you're working will probably have it's own way of mixing.

Apparently, the way I learned to make Zombies, Mai Tais, Blue Motorcycles, Blue Hawaiians and Apple Martinis no longer applies.  And I can only imagine what else isn't consistent.  It's hard to remember drinks when you can't write them down too, but I've been managing okay.  As well, we don't serve our shots or drinks the way I learned to either.  All of the bottles at the bar have "measured pours", meaning the spout pours out exactly one ounce of liquor and then stops.  Well, I poured it that way and the bar manager informed me that that wasn't a shot.  We fill all of our glasses to the brim; no "lip line" like how I learned in bartending school.  Whatev.

3.  Personal selling skills.

I learned at a very young age that as long as you smile real big and bright, they'll love you.  One of the strippers at work put it best: "God gave me a great smile and a great ass, and I talk so good I'll talk a hole in your pocket."  God didn't give me a great ass, but I did come away with a sparkling personality.  I'm far from innocent, but for some reason, that's how I come off no matter what I do.  And I leverage that.  I can act interested in anyone and they'll believe it.  Okay, so some customers take the "building relationships" thing a little too far (no, I will not have sex with you), but I've been able to smile my way to $12 tips on a $11.50 bill and convince unsuspecting men that they should have a double shot of Ciroc as I get into a conversation with them about its superior, ultra-smooth qualities.  (Upselling!)  And this is only in my first four days; one day I shall be a master at personal selling, coaxing tips even out of the cheapest bottled-water-drinking, no 1's-having cheapskates in the place.

4.  Never let 'em hustle you.

Like I said, I look innocent.  I talk innocent.  I've got angel-light shining from my eyes.  I've had two customers try to hustle me so far.  One tried to act like he didn't have enough to pay for the drink I'd already fixed him.  The bar manager called him on it because she heard him whisper, "watch this," to his friend.  The second one I fixed myself.  This Negro tried to confuse me by talking fast, ordering a drink, not paying for it, requesting that I give him 20 $1 bills, and then trying to walk away.  I was like, "uh... you need to pay for that Heineken."  And then he tried to act clueless, "oh?  I didn't pay for it?"  No.  You didn't.  Cough it up!

5.  The Shakin v. Trickin Asset Turnover Ratio

I'm a business student, so of course, when one of the strippers said, "man, I know this girl who turns tricks and doesn't have a car.  What the hell is that?"  I immediately thought that the 'ho lacked the business sense to price her goods and services correctly.  She went on to say, "I mean, how much are you supposed to sell it for?  Man, if I were to sell my shit, you'd have to give me some permanent money.  Some shit I can use.  You'd better buy me a house, some stock, somethin!"  This I related to the value of assets versus the revenue stream that comes from your business activities.  You can leverage assets, but revenue can only be used to buy assets... and if you aren't making enough to do that, well, you're in a pretty sorry position and you need to reevaluate your business strategy.  She then said, "I don't see why any girl would turn to trickin' any way... I make so much more just shakin' it, shakin' it, shakin' it... and I aint never had to open my legs for no man.  I mean, I guess they make their money faster, but they make less.  And what they go through..."  That's a lesson in asset turnover ratio right there; it's important to get the most out of your assets, making them generate their value as many times over as you can... but if you set the value too low, it doesn't mean anything.  Case-and-point, her last thing to say on the subject was, "and you know, a nigga will talk about you if you let him get it for $200... but let it cost him $2,000.  He aint braggin' to NOBODY!"