I should've done this a long time ago, but I'll just start now.
My name is Savannah, and I am a cocktail waitress at a bar in Dallas. This line of work generates some spectacular stories, but most are expressed in petty complaints to co-workers and then quickly forgotten.
You would not believe some of the stuff people do in bars. You wouldn't know because I am assuming that you are one of those stand-up people, the ones who can civilly have a few, pay the bill without contest and be responsible enough to find the safest way home---not the ones breaking pool cues on a punching bag, slitting his best friend's throat with a broken bottle or hiding in the bathroom till after close to strangle the guy who tried to calm him down (all true stories).
I go to work the Friday night shift in two hours, and today will mark the first day of many where I will be chronicling my misadventures in this crazy job. To remain sane, I have to remind myself daily, "you'll get out of this, that's why you're going to college." It doesn't always work, but maybe this will help.
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