Oh right, boneheads and books (and bars)

I also worked for a nightclub for about, oooh, three months. Technically, I was a bartender, serving alcohol, mixing cocktails, pulling pints. Cr*ppiest job ever. I was paid under the table, fifteen pounds a night. I arrived at 9pm, got splattered with drink, puke, and sometimes blood until 3am, then had to sweep up. The best part of this all was that this was the UK, and therefore, no tips. I used to be told "keep the change" on a 2.40p drink from 2.50. Seriously, they considered this generous. Even worse, this was a student hangout, which meant no frilly and fun cocktails, no no no, just endless ENDLESS pints of Caffrey's (which, you may know, take 3 minutes to pour a piece) and lots and lots of agro to accompany the order.

One night, in February, someone figured out that I was female and thusly, had to stand outside handing out flyers. Sighing, I went to fetch my coat. "No, no" I was told, "No coat". So there I was freezing my *ss off and willing the blood to return to my extremities. The things we do when we don't know any better, right? However, the club had a record turnout that night...erect n*pples should just become the world's currency, don't you think?

I also worked for a bookstore (hence the "Books" of the title) and I worked in the television and film production arena (the "Boneheads"). More on that later!