I have a cushy job where Jane Pratt is my boss, Emily is my mentor, and I get to sit on my ass all day. It rules.
However, it has definitely not always been like this. I have worked in homey country restaurants, trashy southern nightclubs, and mysterious sell-your-soul-for-a-reservation downtown dining establishments. I have cleaned up puke from bathrooms, accepted bribes for better tables and have perfected the art of saying, “Yes,” when actually saying, “Never in a million years, you evil fucking eye rapist.”
I actually really enjoyed working in the service industry. I like meeting people and running around like everything is important when it is totally not. OK, so the economy-is-in-the-shitter segue starts now. More overqualified people are working in restaurants and bars and that is just how it is. Though we really should be dressing for our 90s office jobs, we are going to have to know how to dress for the jobs we can actually get. This is where I can help.
Pockets are key.
You need them to keep your cell phone so you can text your friends about what you are doing when your shift is over in the bathroom stall. Duh.
Hide your Hair (only if you have to).
I know tons of places try to make you cover your hair and you can't even have it down or anything. You DON’T want to be the asshole who pisses off the health inspector so, wear this. They are cute and totally health-code friendly (I actually have no idea if they are up to par with the health inspector, but it should be fine. LIVE A LITTLE).
Keep Yo Legs Warm
Also, if you have to look cute, you are going to need some good tights. You can’t get sheer or any shit like that. You have to buy something you know will not, like, go up in flames when you walk past the oven. I love Joe Fresh tights. They are kind of the best tights I have ever owned. Good luck finding them though -- you can only buy them in CaNaNaNada and New York City.
Wear Comfortable Shoes
Stop screaming. Really, please stop. You are going to wake the baby if you keep screaming.
I worked in Sandra Bullock’s restaurant for, like, two days (I quit because they were really anal about where to put the banquet pillows, which is stupid). The floors were marble and three hours into my shift I could feel every step in the back of my neck.
Since these are, like, secret Crocs, only assholes will call you out for wearing them. They make a little cushion of heaven between your heel and the thousandth step between table 201 and 510.
So, in closing, fuck you. These are comfy and if you don’t want to wear them nobody is making you. All I’m saying is that I am a really good fucking hostess and it is about 50% due to my choice of footwear.
All right, now that you hate me (and, you should after what I just showed you), I’m going to back slowly toward the door and hope nobody stabs me. PEACE OUT.
The only reason I write is to get more twitter followers. Follow me @BlackOlive15.