Emmy Loves Wine

Archive for the ‘Oh My Life’ Category

Just another soup can on the assembly line…

Driving up and down a highway lined with palm trees I notice my gas tank is getting closer and closer to empty. I pass a Red Lobster while driving. That place is so bangn’. I love their cheddar cheese biscuits. Alas, I can’t afford the luxury of faux seafood dining right now. Maybe one day. However, I can’t help but wonder when that day will be.

As a recent college graduate, I’m just like everyone else. My experience is limited, I’m broke, and I’m not really sure why I wasted thousands of dollars on a college education. This is all very typical isn’t it? We’ve heard this kind of story a bajillion times now and nobody really gives a fuck anymore.

In world where a girl named “Snooki” with an IQ of -5 make thousands of dollars for uttering complete non-sense and grinding inanimate objects I have to contemplate why I even bother. Instead of paying for college, I should’ve just spent my money on spray tanning and stripper heels.

On the hunt for all kinds of jobs I decided to go to a job fair at a nightclub. They needed cocktail waitresses and I needed money. I felt like this was a relationship that could work.

Upon arrival at da club, I was put off by the appearance of the building in question. Set amongst the scenery of gravel parking lots, an Arby’s, and conveniently located across the street from a Boston Market laid ROXY nightclub. The dingy pastel sign and generally depressing appearance of the building made me uneasy. This place was obviously the worn-out hooker of local nightclubs in the area. However, I already wasted the gas so I decided I wasn’t leaving without the possibility of a job. Plus, maybe the club looked better at nighttime. I mean all hookers look better in the dark, right?

For the interview, I donned grey fitted slacks, and a white button up. In contrast, my fellow applicants took a different approach to dressing for an interview. Vinyl pants, corsets, animal prints, and binding cleavage showing tops was the attire chosen by my competition. All of the sudden, I felt over-dressed. “Shit, I think I left all my slutty clothes in New Jersey”, I thought as eye balled a girl’s six-inch bondage style stilettos.

As I waited two hours for my interview with at least fifty aspiring strippers, I began to question if I was in the right place. How much longer I am going to have to serve other people? Does a college degree mean anything anymore? If I work here, am I going to get raped in the parking lot? Oh life’s questions.

Finally, my number was called. “So tell me about yourself” said the manager of this esteemed establishment. “Aw hell, isn’t it enough that I have a pulse? What else does this job really require?” I thought. Instead, I gave the usual lines that everyone gives in interviews. He told me that he requires his staff to promote the club and that I would need to know a lot of people. So basically, I would need to have a lot of friends to get the job. Unbelievable, he’s the rich owner; promote your own damn club. Just because I don’t have a ton of friends doesn’t mean I don’t need to or want to make money. I always thought a lack of a social life was appealing to employers. The interview was over before I knew it and he said he was going to call everyone who got the job over the weekend. Ok, ok no guarantee of employment, but still a shot in hell.

My hope quickly dissipated when I googled ROXY nightclub reviews and found this:

Fake hiring to get people in the club

January 17, 2010 – Review Don’t apply to Club Roxy they say were getting hired we first must bring 10-15 people to the club this saturday to see how we interact and what are friends are like and they told us we our guests get in free and free VIP! That never happeend they all paid 10 dollers and the door man ignored the name thing. Sooo yeah thanks bill for making up this scam.

Sure, you can’t believe every thing you read, but this seems like exactly what the manager was setting us up for. Especially since he said he would call on Saturday and have everything “wrapped up” by Monday.  Quite suspect, if you ask me.

Sigh. Job-hunting is exhausting. I’m 25 years old and I’m no closer to knowing what I should be doing with my life or having a job that doesn’t make me hate myself for that matter. Oh well, maybe it’s not too late to apply for season 3 of The Jersey Shore. After all, I still have time to spray myself orange and invest in some stripper heals and bump-its.

Everytime I get pissed, I make a list, and then I feel better.

The older I get the crankier I become. People, and the words that come out of their mouth throw me into a silent rage. But don’t get it twisted; I’m not a hater. There are just some things that really piss me off. Mainly, because my tolerance for bullshit just isn’t what it used to be.

Shit that REALLY Pisses Me Off…

Old People at the Grocery Store

My God, have you ever watched an old person looking for a parking spot? It’s like watching a brain dead mouse search a piece of cheese in an intricate maze. They’re moving at the pace of death, and going nowhere. Seriously, people over the age of 65 should have to retake the drivers test. Then you go into the grocery store, and senior citizens can barely push the cart in front of them. As you follow closely behind them in an effort to pass them you move to the right. Then their feeble hand pushes the cart to the right at the SAME TIME, blocking your path. You move to the left, and then their cart moves to the left. Their timing is impeccable. You stand in line behind them, as they struggle to lift each item on the conveyer belt, then they pull out a stack of coupons, and their change purse, and BAM! You just watched another 20 minutes of your life pass you by.

Elizabeth Hasselbeck (As seen on the television show “The View”)

The sound of her voice is like nails penetrating through my ears. Each ridiculous, uptight, ultra-conservative, one-sided statement that comes out of her mouth makes me want to barf. She is possibly the least important person in television. Elizabeth Hasselbeck makes Jerry Springer look like Anderson Cooper. At least when Jerry talks he makes sense, and I don’t want to punch him in the face.

Girls who think they are fat when they are OBVIOUSLY don’t have an ounce of body fat.

Very recently, I took a weekend to trip at a hotel with a bunch of girls. I knew some of the girls already, and some of them I had never met before. There was a hot tub in the hotel, and of course we all wanted to enjoy some hot water and bubbles. Now, I’m in still in what I like to call “The Process” of getting in shape. However, I was sure that there would be some fatties in the group. Not obese, but surely there would be some bellies that could use toning, and some misplaced cellulite. No such luck. ALL the girls were in fantastic shape. It was if they all walked straight out of Fitness Magazine, and into the hotel room with me. I’m talking flat abs, and butts of steel.  So were all these girls reveling in the fact that their bikini bodies could be photographed in fluorescent lighting and still look good? No, no they were not. They all complained that they were “Faaat”, and created problems that were non-existent.  As I stuffed my face with a cheese pizza (It was delicious!) I listened to a girl who was a size 0 complain that her stomach was not flat enough. What is the point of looking good if your still going to bitch?! You might as well be 300 pounds. As the girls continued to point out areas of “fat” that was really just the skin keeping the organs from falling out of their body I stayed quiet, and probably rolled my eyes a couple times. I’m just saying when I’m finally back in shape again I’m not going to be looking for things that are wrong with my body. I’m going to enjoy my svelte-ness!

The next day…

I have to say I felt a lot angrier yesterday when I started this blog. Now, I’m just bored and sleepy. In any event, the shit listed above does really piss me off. I hope it pisses you off too. Have a nice day.

That’s What She Said.

I’m sitting in a white room. The soft hum of a halfhearted microwave and the muffled chitter chatter of my peers’ fills my ears. I’m focusing hard on the TV screen in front of me. Wheel of Fortune is on, and I can’t help but be captivated by it’s puzzling puzzles. As I watch the colorful wheel of destiny spin I fantasize about what I’d do with thousands of dollars. The fantasy is the same every time. Fix my financial messiness, and go shopping.

My twenty-minute break ended at least twenty minutes ago. Time to leave the break room and continue working for the man.

When I first took my current job in the retail industry I thought that standing behind a counter would be a chillaxed break from my long stint as a waitress. My assumption was wrong, and working in retail soon proved to be a new form of hell in which I now reside.

Let’s just say I work for a very well known department store that grosses millions and millions of dollars each year. Yet, I make a very minimum wage.

People are cheaper and bitchier than I ever could’ve imagined. In the restaurant business you sell greasy fattening food to obese patrons who act as if they just got off the train from Auschwitz.  In retail, you get people who come to a department store looking for thrift store bargains.

The following are irritating comments, complaints, and actions of retail customers that I have encountered:

What they said: “Where are the employees? This place is a shithole!”

What I’m thinking: You’re a shithole.

What they said: “I want a size 8!” snaps a woman as she shakes a skirt at me.

What I’m thinking: You’s a bitch.

What they said: “The coupons never work here! Nothing ever goes my way!”

What I’m thinking: O.M.G. Your coupon didn’t work?!?! Next your going to tell me couldn’t find a parking spot that was close to the entrance.  My goodness, how do make it through the day with these insurmountable obstacles placed so strategically in your path?

What they said:” Why do YOU guys give us the coupons if we can’t use them?”

What I’m thinking:” I don’t give you the coupons. The company does. That’s right ladies, and gentlemen; I’m not a multi-billionaire I just work for one.

What they said:” I bet you shop here all the time!”

What I’m thinking: Yes ma’ m, I take my minimum wage check and run straight to the bank on payday.  I don’t have bills, and I can afford to blow the little bit of money I make on the things I want.

What actually happens, sometimes: Today a woman stated that the shirt she selected off the sale rack was supposed to be 70% and then an extra 40% off the original price. “ That would be 110% off, and the shirt would be free” I replied. “Oh” Said the mathematically challenged woman. The people standing in line behind the woman made fun of her when she walked away, and I told them that made me like them more. I gave them an extra 25% off their purchase.

This Girl’s Life.

Writer’s Block is a bitch.

What can I say? Sometimes it’s hard to think of topics to complain about. However, something pissed me off today, and I realized that as long as the human race is present in my life I’ll always have something to write/bitch about.

So this is where I fill you in on what I’ve been doing with my semi-precious time for the past couple of months. Let’s see, where do I begin?

How Emmy Spends Her Day:

12:00 PM – Emmy awakens. Her hair resembles a cocker spaniel that has been caught in a wind tunnel, and her breath smells like clams and hot dogs.

12:45 PM – Emmy saunters down to the living room where she checks her Facebook, and E-mail account while she catches up on MTV television.

1:15 PM – Emmy is hungry. She starts her day with two pudding packs. Yum!

2:00 PM – Emmy has finally mustered up enough energy to engage in shower time.

3:00 PM – Emmy can not decide on an outfit, as usual. She gives up, and throws on her default outfit…polka dot stretch jeans paired with her boyfriend’s sweatshirt.

4:00 PM – Emmy eats spagetti O’s for lunch while watching TV.

4: 30 PM – Emmy washes dishes. She’s a team player, after all.

5:00 PM – Emmy lays on bed while flipping back and forth between MTV and the E! Channel. Periodically, she checks her Facebook.

5:30 PM- Emmy eats dinner.

6:15 PM – Emmy trudges off to her retail job dressed all in black.

9:00 PM – Emmy folds sweaters while thinking of her past mistakes.

10: 25 PM – Emmy’s home again! Time for a snack. Aka a trip to Wendy’s. Then she retreats to the couch for more television watching, and/or possibly a SNS game of Super Mario World.

3: 15 AM – Emmy finally goes to sleep. After another long day of dragging her body around, and eating more pudding cups than most preschoolers consume in a year, Emmy is all tuckered out.

Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

So as you can see, I’ve been riddled responsibility , and strenuous tasks that suck through all the time in my day.

Please send any comments, and/or suggestions for new blogs my way.

“Get off your lazy ass” IS a suggestion, but it is not a welcome one.

Before the economy sucked I had a job. In fact, I had 10 of em’!

As writer and a former resident of South Jersey I have spent a decent amount of time working menial jobs. I’ve done things for money that no one should have to say out loud. That’s why I’ve compiled a list of my worst jobs and their most endearing qualities. Enjoy, and be glad you weren’t me.

 

 

Hudock’s Burger Stand

 

Worst job ever. Slaving over a grill when I could barely microwave a bowl of soup was not a smart career move on my part. Two weeks after this bullshit started, it ended. I blew the job off, and my mom said it was okay as long as I learned my lesson about working.

 

Career Highlight:

 

* Learning I couldn’t leave five minutes early even though my mom was already there to pick me up! 

 

 

Happy Harry’s Discount Drugs

 

       It takes a special person to wear a teal vest, and push buttons on cash register for store that receives about three customers per hour. For one year that special person was me. Stocking shelves as my eyes learned to adjust to florescent lighting, and resisting the urge to make inappropriate announcements over the intercom was my lot in life.

 

Career Highlight: Selling my teal vest in my “Priceless Items for Free” yard sale.

 

The Pennsville Diner

 

    Remember that movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”? Remember that lovable Greek Family that ran that diner? Well, I’m pretty sure the Greeks I worked for were that lovable family’s Satanic counterparts. Also, I learned how hair ends up in your food, and how shitty and cheap people can be to kid who was just trying to make a buck! My boss, or someone who appeared to be in charge would sit on a crate smoking cigarettes waiting for orders to come in. His arms looked like Big Foot’s legs, and thanks to him I served shit load of hairy eggs that summer.

My coworkers were two girls who a little older than me. One was a girl I went to elementary school with. She hated me, and rolled her eyes at me in front of customers. The other girl had a DUI and deeply missed her former days at Red Lobster. I was very excited about starting community college in the fall (yes, my life was that depressing), and she had the motivation of a dead frog in a shallow pond. 

 

 

 

Career Highlight: 

 

*One time while waiting on a table of four women I refilled all their iced teas. However, when I came back with their iced teas I realized I didn’t remember which glass was belonged to each lady. I passed back the glasses of Russian Roulette to the four women. The looks on their faces were priceless because they realized they were all going to drinking each other’s backwash. Whoops.

 

*Working with a waitress named Darlene whose daughter was thrilled to have gotten knocked up as a teenager, and then became a stripper. Her daughter would come in, and I would always think “That’s all you have to look like to strip? I should be doing that.”

 

*Being asked if I could read and write before being given the marker to write the specials on the board.

 

Cracker Barrel

 

Spilling hot grits on my hand, and feel the scalding splash of coffee soak my Amish boy button up shirt as I carried coffee pots on trays(as required by the company) to tables was just one of the benefits to this craptackular job. That and wearing a brown an apron which displayed my name with one star (I never got more than one star) and being treated worse than a pig in a slaughterhouse was all pretty memorable and life changing at the same time.

 

Career Highlights:

 

• The company’s modo was “Pleasing People”. So I wrote “Pleasing People Sucks” on the white erase board. Management was pissed and called an emergency meeting where they demanded to know who wrote the statement on the board. I shook with laughter as everyone else tried their best to look as if they gave a shit.

 

• Meeting one of my best bud’s, Maria!

 

• Working every weekend , and missing any possibility of fun.

 

Cassella’s Italian Restaurant

 

My three day stint as a waitress in this poorly run restaurant ended with me coming into work to find that they had been taken over my new management. I left, got a crab cake lunch, put five bucks in my gas tank, and went home.

 

Career Highlight:

 

*Years later finding out that the manager who hired me for that job was being chased by the Russian mob.

 

Texas Roadhouse

 

Nothing like a center cut piece of cow next to a plate of cheese fries and a beer! I made decent bank, but being forced to line dance periodically during every shift was almost too much for me to bear. Mainly, because no one really wanted to teach me how to actually do the dances.

 

Career Highlights:

 

• Being arrested for trespassing with one of my co workers.

 

• Being a social outcast.

 

• Being banned from the company for being “below average”.

 

Growing Family Portraits

 

Selling baby pictures in Atlantic City seems like a risky business venture because…well…it is. The streets of Atlantic City are not meant for little blonde girls who don’t carry guns or drink alcohol on a regular basis. I made a lot of money, and mismanaged every dollar. The job lasted two months.

 

Career Highlights:

 

• Spilling Corona on my company laptop.

 

• Being stuck at a customer’s house for over SIX hours as she analyzed EVERY picture  of her son. Apparently, he was a miracle baby because she was not supposed to be able to have children. The only miracle will be if that child doesn’t end up hating his mom so much that he becomes a serial killer.

 

• Trying to sell pictures of one mom’s baby who was cross eyed and screaming in EVERY picture. 

 

Apple-bees

 

 Two weeks of training, two free meals, and a hundred dollar paycheck. Then I quit before I even worked one real shift.

 

Career Highlights:

 

• That burger and onion peels was YUMMY!

 

 

 

Peebles

 

Meaningless retail job with the most hideous over priced clothes I’ve seen since Dress Barn.

 

Career Highlights:

 

• Being complimented on my adorable outfit from random old lady.

 

Cheeseburger in Paradise

 

Where do I begin? I’ve slung cheeseburgers at this place for a hot minute. I’ve met some cool peeps here, no lie. And while serving has been the bain of my existence since I was old enough to drive I’ve had some good times in that place. I wish I could tell you all the crazy things I’ve done at this job, but technically I’m still employed there so for now I must keep my mouth shut.

 

 

Career Highlights:

 

• Vannak’s (co-worker) parties complete with kegs and walk of shame the next morning on one of the coldest days of the year.

 

• Shaking my hips in an awkward fashion every time we sang the birthday song to a table.

 

• Nikki’s sex stories.

 

• Shay dropping it like it was on fire every shift.

 

• Meeting Brandi, and being given the celeb couple nickname “Brem” because of our bff-ness.

 

• Goin’ clubbn’ with the whole crew, and my L-izzle for rizzle my shizzle.

 

* I’d love to say more, but can’t at this time.

 

 

And there you have it. My “career” up until today. BTW…I’m currently looking for a job. Contact me if your looking for bright new employees!

“Hello, I’m Emily and I’ll somewhat be taking care of you today”…

As someone who has been waiting tables for a WHILE I have lost that lovin’ feeling when it comes to the restaurant business. Of course, I guess you could say I always hated being a “food bitch” for the American public.

Recently, I noticed that waitresses who have only been employed with the company (that I work for) for a couple weeks were already training new employees. Despite the fact that I have been working for the company for over two years I was not asked to train new employees. Instead, my superiors trusted the waitresses who still ask questions during their shift to train new servers.

 

 When I asked if I could train new employees my managers and fellow employees responded with a “NO!” in unison.

 

 Hey man, that’s cool. I guess everyone’s worried that I’d say something inappropriate to the trainees, but they’re wrong! In fact, I created a sample of how I would train new waitresses/waiters at my job. And now I give you…..

 

 

So You Want to be a Waitress….

 

Lesson # 1

Get out while you still can: Listen, its not to late to run. You can still walk out the door, and never look back. Before you get addicted to the instant cash, and before people are able to strip you of your dignity all because you forgot their side of coleslaw. Before you this place makes you wish you were never born, and you sell your soul to company that wouldn’t care if your best friend and dog died on the same day. If you decide to walk out that door, not only will I not blame you, but I will come up with one hell of an alibi.

 

 

Lesson #2

Be prepared to put on a happy face no matter what!: This is the deal. The general public does not care about you. They are hungry, and they want service with a smile. Your smile doesn’t need to be sincere, but present it must be. So imagine that every customer has the phrase “Why so serious?” plastered on their forehead. This means that whether your depressed, your gerbil died in an unforeseen accident, or you just don’t want to live anymore the general public does not give a shit. As server it is now your responsibility to provide people with a false sense of security, and that means service with a smile. *Pukes*

 

Lesson #3

Details are for suckers who don’t know how to manage their time: So your customer wants a lemon in their water? Pssh. They’ll have to ask for that lemon. Furthermore, they’ll have to ask what “Today’s Special” is. As a server my time is precious. This isn’t the Ritz, and you get what you pay for. If you got a meal for 8 bucks you should be thrilled your food arrived without razor blades in it, and in a timely manner. I won’t play “Miss Cleo” (Former faux Jamaican psychic) with the customers. Got a question? Want some mayonnaise? Grow a pair and ask for it.

 

Lesson # 4

Sidework is for people without social lives: Every server is stuck with the daunting task of painstaking sidework that takes forever, and makes you miss last call at the bar. Fuck that. There’s way to get around extra work. Figure it out.

 

Lesson #5

People act like every meal is their last: Be prepared to be sat with some fat slob who acts like they just got out of Auschwitz. “I’m so starving” has been uttered by people who could probably feed a small country with the fat of their fore arm.

 

Quick Fix Solutions to Restaurant Bullshit:

 

The problem: Inconsiderate jerk keeps sucking down sodas which causes you to run a marathon in order to keep up with their refills.

The solution: When someone is sucking their soda faster down faster than Jenna Jameson hopped up on aderhol they don’t get another refill until the almost the end of their meal. Sucky McSuck will have a better chance of getting a drink in a desert than from yours truly.

 

The Problem: You forgot to put the food order in for a table. Customers are pissed.

The Solution: Blame everyone, but yourself. Blame the cooks, the manager, the girl in the section next to you. Hell, blame God if you have to, but you are never to blame. People just want to assign blame to something or someone. Give them someone to blame other than you, and you’ll still get a tip.

 

The Problem: You hate waiting tables. You now hate people, but are stuck in this shit hole of a job (that will never get better by the way) because your in debt up to your ass, and your addicted to the money.

The Solution: Drinking a lot, winning the lottery, inheriting money from a newly deceased rich relative, and going to college and graduating in a degree that doesn’t end in “art” , “film”, or “design”.

 

With all my restaurant knowledge I can’t believe my superiors won’t let me train anyone. Oh well, I can still refer the new employees to my website.