Confessions of an Australian Bar Maid: Day vs Night

As noted in another of my Blogs (http://sistersinsays.blogspot.com/) I have recently acquired my first ever office job, complete with desk, staff pass with lanyard and water cooler. I love the job – it’s interesting, fun and my co-workers are better than I could ever have hoped for (and they could certainly give the Creatures a run for their money in the interrelations department). Being a veteran Creature of the Night this is an entirely new experience for me and I never thought I’d enjoy it as much as I do. It also pays very well and therefore begs the question ‘Do I need to work nights anymore?’. Plus I am still met with the ‘I don’t know how you do it!’ comments from my new colleagues. Truth be told I don’t think I’ll ever cease to work nights. I’ve done it for so long now I find myself restless and bored when at home, especially now there aren’t as many shows on. The fact that I actually can go home after work these days is strange to me and I’ve developed a rather unhealthy UK soapie obsession as a result.

Nothing quite compares to the rush of being a Creature of the Night. I feel it provides certain satisfactions and a social side that a day job simply cannot posses. Take for example my current job: I get up the same time as everyone else and don the appropriate office get-up (except on Friday’s which I think is universally known as ‘casual day’). I squeeze myself onto the tube/bus with book/Metro/Shortlist/Sport in hand so as not to have to make eye contact or speak to anyone, stand single file on the right of the escalator - or if I’m feeling energetic or running late, leg it up the left - and eventually park myself at my allocated desk, just like everybody else. And that’s about it really. Aside from the occasional lunch outing, inter-departmental office wander and chat, external meeting or game of rolled-up-Guardian-bat-and-stress-ball-office- cricket match, there’s not much else going on. I organise my boss, answer emails, forward funnies, print papers, fulfil my H&S responsibilities by ensuring no-one is close to or in fear of dying, then squeeze back onto the tube and make my way home reading my book or London Paper (no London Lite, don’t like it), just like everybody else.

Yet gearing up for a night shift is a whole different ball game. Depending on your day job situation and the day of the week your journey to work is never the same. You could be rushing from one job to the other looking not unlike Michael Bourne being chased by the CIA as you take escalator steps 2 at a time, narrowly skim through beeping tube doors, duck and weave your way through tourists, families and old people in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Or it could be a weekend evening which means there’s an entirely different buzz in the air - people finishing work and readying themselves for the weekend, looking at each other, maybe even talking and laughing with each other on the tube or bus. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that you’re heading to work to serve some of these smiling faces, maybe even chat and flirt with them, and hopefully add to the plethora of happy memories they’ll have of their evening should they be able to remember anything in the morning - all the time safe in the knowledge that you’ll be working but also earning and socialising. They’ll be waking up with little to no money, possibly wallet-less, maybe even clothes-less, and definitely worse for wear.

Your uniform may consist of a compulsory branded shirt or apron but other than that you can dress to impress, and the actual work part of the deal is never the same as the shows and crowds differ every night. You’ve lucked out should it be a theatre-style show, comedy night or older person’s affair as attendees are almost always boring and NEVER tip. But should the evening involve a quality rock band or better yet a DJ or dance party you’re home free! The drinks will be flowing, the tunes cranking and if the DJ’s spinning you can rest assured there’ll be plenty of intoxicants about which means more one-night-only friends, chat up lines, classic conversations and lots of lovely munters leaving their change behind!

Your journey home is dependant on the night’s occurrences. Staffies as you know are more common than not so if your nights been hellish you can let off steam with your co-workers, or if heavenly you can spend your newly acquired bounty on any number of fancy beverages. And whether it be a walk home or public transport expedition at the end of it all you’re sure to see some interesting sights, especially at the weekend. It may be a hilariously profound and in-depth drunken conversation that none of the participants will ever remember, a girl puking in her hand bag, some bright spark putting a bin through a bus window, people falling down stairs and aisles, or a highly sophisticated Essex girl losing a heel/top/dress/skirt – all of which I have witnessed, by the way – your journey home is sure to be full of wonders and surprises the likes of which ye have never seen and would never expect. And as you finally climb into your warm bed after a hard nights work you can sleep sound in the knowledge that you’ve helped contribute to all that fun, all those hangovers, all those drunken slobbering kisses and forgetful one night stands.

Ah, the beauty of it all…