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.

Mixing Drinks Is Secondary

I took a deep, steadying breath as I walked through the door.  Here goes nothin, I thought to myself.  As soon as the door closed behind me, my eyes swept the room, but focused on the doorman; the first fully clothed person I saw.

"Hi, I'd like to apply at a bartender here," I tried to adopt a deeper, more sultry voice than my usual bright, perky chirp.  It came out a little more Britney than Beyonce, but no matter what I did, I supposed I'd always look younger than my age.

"You're looking for Joe, right?  Does he know you're here?" he asked me, looking slightly worried.

I assumed he was referring to the owner or the manager... someone with the authority to hire me.  "Er..." I replied, "I didn't know I was supposed to call beforehand."

"Nah, nah, it's my fault.  Here, take this application; you can fill that out.  I'll go get him."

He handed me the sheet and I sat at the bar, reading over it before filling it out carefully.

Though I tried to project an aura of cool relaxation, I'm sure I looked slightly out of place.  For one, I must've been the only person in the place not looking at the stage.  Not even once.  It didn't matter though; once you walk into a strip club, unless you close your eyes, you're going to see naked women twirling, bouncing and winking.

I bit back a smirk; after the usual "first, middle, last" name prompt there was a line where you could fill in your stage name.  The lyrics to "Circus" by Britney Spears played through my head, I'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl.  If anyone ever asked me, I would probably say I did it for the money, but the real truth was more along the lines of, "I like to play dress up."

When Joe, the owner/manager, came out a while later, he led me upstairs where it was quieter and he could actually tell me about the duties and responsibilities of the job.  We talked for about ten minutes or so, but a few things stood out to me:

1. Unlike the ones you see on TV, real, upstanding gentleman's clubs do not allow touching.  I'm not allowed to sit on anyone's lap either.  
2. Job interviews can include the statement, "your butt and nipples must be covered at all times."
3. Mixing drinks is secondary; your primary duty as a bartender is to build a relationship with your customers.  Play into their fantasies.  Flirt.  (Of course, I told him I had theater training as well).

I really hope I get this job; yeah, the pay is $200 on a BAD night, which is tres attractive, but it also gives me the outlet I need to get that Naughty Nikki energy out in a setting that's appropriate for it.  I need to be in an environment where I can be an actress because that's my job, not because I have to to keep my sanity.  

There's only so much Nikki that the "real world" can handle. 

PS: I'm keeping my drink knowledge up, though!