No, you cannot use me to cut the line.

I don’t hide the fact that I landed a pretty sweet gig after college. It started with a risky move away from home, continuing into brutal understaffed nights as a waitress, then to long days of working in the office prior to my brutal understaffed nights as a waitress until I finally landed into a salaried position at one of the hottest new spots in the District.

Follow me on Snapchat, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, or any other social media platform you can think of. You won’t have to scroll down too far to find a post about my workplace. Event planning and marketing for a 4 story bar with a 360 degree view of the city on a glass atrium rooftop is super Insta and Snap-worthy. Sorry about it.

I worked hard to get to where I’m at…and maybe had a little bit of luck on my side too. The days are long, the emails are never ending, and the event hosts are sometimes overly demanding. I meet and talk with dozens of new people every day, but that’s my favorite part of the job. And I have a ~super cool~ business card.

We attract varying demographics. I have helped planned events ranging from Boston Marathon fundraisers, 150 person masquerade parties, to 20 person debate watches (it’s DC, remember?) We never charge rental fees as we want to welcome any type of event into our venue. That’s *~the motto~*

Before I bore the sh*t out of you, let me get to the point of this blog.

The point of this blog is a lesson for my readers. I’m sure most of you are kindhearted individuals, most of whom are perfectly lovely people who I’d love to get with brunch with sometime and share many laughs over bottomless mimosas and bloodys.

Alas, I’m sure there are some people out there who would benefit from this.

And so I begin:

How To Not Be A Sh*tty Person 101

Our line at the door on the weekends is outrageous. We pack every floor to capacity and we’ve only been open for a month and a half. Not to brag. But, seriously. You cannot seriously expect to show up at 11pm on a Saturday night and immediately have a cheap rail drink in your hand. Using the “I know the owner line” won’t work and probably will never work.

So, thus, trying to use the “I know the events coordinator” line DEFINITELY won’t work. I’d like to envision myself as that important, but, I’m at the same entry-level-struggling-to-make-rent point in my life that you are most likely at too. My desk is just a fully stocked bar while yours may be a cubicle.

Attempting to drop a name at the door doesn’t make you a douchebag, I appreciate the hustle. Your time is valuable, the last place you want to be is waiting in line when you’re at the height of your buzz in the middle of the winter (why nips were invented). I get it.

Here is what makes you a douchebag:

“Hey Beth, I noticed that you have a really cool new job. My friends and I are looking for somewhere to go tonight. Are you going to be working?”

Hey! So great to hear from you. I haven’t spoken to you since the last time we slept together…in September. Remember that? We went on a few dates in the fall. I wasn’t super into you, but I think I tried texting you the day after I stayed over and you weren’t really having it. Then we stopped talking. The end. I debated responding something snarky when you texted me in the thick of Jonas, but then realized I didn’t really give a sh*t. So, sorry for not responding. Yes, we were open during the snowstorm. I know it’s a little late now, but I hope you and your friends found a warm spot to hang out!

“Hey! What’s up? I hope you’re doing well and sorry this is totally random, but are you working tonight?!?”

Hey, nmjc!! Hbu??! Sorry just seeing this text now. It was 11:30pm when you sent it, I’m assuming you were waiting in the line that was roughly 100-people deep in the freezing cold. The last time I heard from you were legitimately drunkenly screaming profanities at my house on the way to the bar last semester of college. And I think the last time we actually spoke was when I confronted you about that time you told everyone I had an eating disorder without talking to me about it first. Lol. Smgts! I know we used to be friends–well friends is a loose term–but it’s totally great to hear from you. How ~totally cool~ that you moved down here too! Let’s catch up sometime. We can chat about the time you made my first semester of junior year miserable.

These are messages I’ve received the past couple of weeks. I looked at phone in both instances and couldn’t help but laugh. Honestly, it’s kind of entertaining seeing people outwardly be shitty and try to hide it the fact that they are in fact being shitty.

“Hey Beth, I really could give two shits about you, but can I talk to you real quick? Just for a sec. Just needa get into this bar first. Then I’ll go back to being shitty.” Like, just admit the fact that you are in fact being shitty.

Ok, I’m bitter. Whatever. 

I deal with difficult people on a daily basis, as I’m sure you do too. I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t expect to always be the girl who gets called back after a sleepover at a guy’s house. I don’t need to be liked by everyone. However, respect goes a long way.

Perhaps I’m ranting (ok, definitely ranting). Perhaps I was too naive to believe that this stuff goes away when you reach the age of almost-23. Perhaps I’m to blame for your shittyness–oh wait, no, that’s totally on you.

This is what I really wanted to respond when you texted me:
Hey. It’s nice to hear from you. How are you doing? I do work at a bar, thanks for noticing! I hope at some point I meant more to you than a $7 Bowman’s rail drink. I feel sorry for you that you are waiting in this crazy line while I am able to get in without a problem. Really, I’m sorry. However, your pathetic attempts at superficial friendliness to skip a 30 minute line is rather entertaining. I would say ‘I hope all is well,’ but I actually don’t really care. Sorry. I wish you nothing but a declined credit card on the cheapest beer we have.

So, no, you cannot use me to cut the line.   

Moral(s) of the story: Kindness goes a long way (even longer than our U St line on the weekends). People will always use to get ahead (literally and figuratively). And although you may only be important to drunk 20 somethings, at least you’re leaving your mark somewhere (and that’s pretty effing cool).


Featured image: Taken by Aaron Green







2 thoughts on “No, you cannot use me to cut the line.

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