Sat, a beached piece of liquorice after a night out with the fellow bassets crowd, I contemplate yet another night spent with the High Society crew.
A tin of allsorts, we come together from all parts of London to serve the rich and famous; students, graduates young and old people all dressed alike in black.
It's fun, sometimes. The wages suck and the regularity of shifts do too, but when you get some hours it's like an evening spent catapulted into the world of the wealthy that is just so far flung from student life you never would imagine it goes on whilst nibbling on your regular pasta/beans on toast.
It's an interesting world to be allowed to watch. I await the opportunity to become a voyeur and mingle with the crowds - on the wrong side of the champagne tray, admitted.
But as someone threw over their shoulder to me in a comment whilst chucking wine down the sink and flinging canapé crumbs into the bins, "Money doesn't buy you Class".
And it certainly doesn't.
Tonight was interesting. A bunch of city workers invited to the Barbican for a free booze-up. We knew it would be hectic. The fact that every man woman and dog got 2 tokens to spend on a glass of wine/beer/champers, plus a free cocktail bar, was enough to raise a few HS pulses under our liquorice uniforms - if only we smelt as nice.
It was hot. It was crowded. The rich were as up themselves as they generally are. I realised tonight they most of them aren't actually the rude buggers I always took them for. No, they don't purposefully look at you like a piece of sour liquorice they just spit out, they just don't even notice you are there. Which is kind of worse.
So I have been observing. And there are certain types of guest that seem to recur at these kind of events.
1. The snobs. These are possibly the worst. They stand in your way whilst you balance a tray full of glasses and bottles in one hand and try to tap their arm with the other to get through, they nearly whack you off balance with their flamboyant arm gestures and then glare at you as you are forced to shove past them before a whole lot of glass gets shattered.
2. The blazé women. -no, these are the worst. Worse than the ones who don't acknowledge you, are the ones who see you coming and still give you no time in their socialite day. They watch you approach, with no room to move past them, turn and continue the conversation they were just having. Then to top it off they'll turn around and dump their glass onto your already full tray as you brush past, almost making you drop it. Again. That makes me want to throw the whole tray at their feet, but the most I can muster throwing is a dirty glance instead.
3. The fledgling professionals who look very lost but flounce off when they see you looking at them like they were just born for this world. Mate, its clear to see that last week you were here, just like me. But hey, credit to them for tossing in the apron and stepping over onto the other side. They tend not to be so rude.
4. The lovelies. Polite members of the crowd who actually see you as a replica of their own children/grandchildren and appreciate the state of aching pain your feet are slowly descending to. They rock. A simple nod of appreciation for your work makes a huge difference in a crowd of elbows and swishy hair, tooftoff conversations and filthy glares. On another occasion one man came over to me and personally thanked us all for all of our hard work, - private events are usually nicer like this but still, the resemblance to my grandad was both touching and rather poignant. He would have loved some of the food we dish out sometimes, usually a proper bit of meat and vege... :')
5. There's then the intoxicated guest. These come later on and are by far most entertaining. They often ask for your name, and on occasions like tonight when there is a dance floor, they decide to dance with you. When carrying trays, this is not so fun, but otherwise its an excellent way to break down some of those class-y boundaries and let you see the business-world descend into sheer adolescence and sillyness. Those suits don't mean anything really. Beware of them roaming around the kitchens in search of the loos.... Free beers can lead to a lot of confusion.
6. The ones who think you are magic. Drunk or not, some people just think that the black uniform means we can perform magic tricks. "Can you jut go and get me a wine?", "can I just balance this on your head whilst you walk to the kitchen?" "can you pour me champagne into here [[for free]]?" "can you bring me specifically back on of those specific canapés whilst I move around and chat to people?" "can I pay you [[instead of standing in line like everyone else]]", umm, no sir. *huff puff huff*," "will you just" "can I just" "can't I".... IT'S NOT MY JOB. Go queue and pay and wait like everyone else. Lots of huffing ensues with these, but it's ok they eventually go and bug another member of black-clad staff.
So some are rude, some are nice, and some are just oblivious to the work that goes in to their evening of schmoozing. But we're there to serve, and serve they make sure we do.
At the end of the day, I come home in a free taxi, a free glass of wine and sandwich in my system (it's not always this good) and free mints in my pocket. A tired little basset worker, I may not be livin' the rich and famous lifestyle right now, but it can't be all bad. Winning never gets old, we just have to wait for our time to claim victory. And who say's winning means money, anyway.
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