Good Cop v. Bad Cop

Working at any job there are certain aspects to the profession one does or does not like. There may also be co-workers and customers/clients that one deals with that you either love like an adorable grandfather or despise more than the evil wicked witch of the west.

In most scenarios that play out at the bar I absolutely love and adore my co-workers. One of which has become one of my very best friends, and then there’s those who you can’t stand even for an eighth of a second.

But, lets not dwell on the negativity of the witch.

Some of my favorite customers are a group of police officers from Milwaukee, WI and trust me they know how to hang with the best of them. My very first encounter with them was over an ease dropping conversation. I overheard one of them laughing and joking about how all police officers were assholes and that they’re a bunch of pigs, and crooked cops.

Now this situation is prior to my knowledge of them all being police officers so I immediately had to chime in.

Let me be clear, there are defiantly times when my mouth gets me into a lot more trouble than it should. I speak my mind quit frequently, so I didn’t assume anything ill should come of me agreeing that police officers are a bunch of assholes, and they always seem to want to kick a man when he’s down.

Little did I know what I was getting myself into…

Of course, they all undoubtedly starred at me like I was this evil little girl. I stood there for what felt like an eternity waiting for a response, and when I received no reply back I replied, “I’m just waiting for one of you to say you’re a cop”.

They all immediately started laughing and then horrifically notified me that they’re all police offices. They then started drilling me on why I don’t like cops; meanwhile, I tried to avoid the subject by talking about firemen. Please don’t ask me why I thought that was the best route.

That obviously made the conversation more awkward. Now every time they come to visit me at work, which is about every other weekend, they remind me of how much I hate cops and how sexy I think Firemen are!

A unique friendship grew out of an awkward moment, but those awkward moments are what continue to make my job new and exciting.


Daddy’s Little Party Animal

The best explanation I can give you is simply by showing you one of my favorite photos of my father and I, especially since a photo can say a thousand words.


I’m not trying to sound cliché’ by any means but my Dad is nothing like yours. Monday-Thursday he is by societies means a professional, but when Thursday night rolls around much like in Winona there are simply “no fucks given”  and everything goes right out the window, along with most of our pride. On a good note – He is the most wonderful father, provides for his family, and is still able to have a great time! And, when I say great time I mean he would be on WSU passouts each weekend much like I once was.


(Chicago can do that to a young woman) Now why is this relevant?

Part of this party animal mentality that has been passed down to me not only by my father but also through generations before me have led me to the bartending profession.  I am not by any means condoning that an individual should be an alcoholic, but to teach their own. The main point I am trying to get at, is that bartending if you can handle idiots for a 10+ hr shift is a great way to pay your way through college.

Since this blog is about the “The Working Girl” i.e. Me! I will share with you some of the wonderful pluses that can be attributed to bartending and some of the gut wrenching worst parts associated with the profession. For me by far the best part is the tips you get to go home with every night.Having cash flow at the end of the night is amazing!

Having dispensable funds at the end of each shift have made me able to be financially independent from my parents aside from Healthcare coverage (because let’s be real I don’t want to pay for that). To me being financially independent and living on my own means a lot. It makes me feel like I have accomplished more than just good grades, that I have been able to successfully take care of myself and that I am actually being an independent adult, slowly but surely of course.

Now to begin on the dawning worse parts of bartending – Where to begin… You have to deal with assholes all the time and still have a smile on your face. You work long hours and extremely late shifts. Some nights I don’t make it home till 2:30 or 3:00 A.M. and somehow still have to make it to class the following morning and then the process repeats itself.

You have to know when to cut drunks off. You risk potential jail time for serving an underage consumer or even worse you risk the lives of others when they choose to drive after you have served them.

For me the absolute worst thing that has happened is that you can get hurt. For example, I was working on a Friday night this past summer and we were relatively busy. I didn’t know the back was being mopped and I ran into the back to bring some dirty dishes back and slipped and fell on the floor slicing my right wrist open. I cut through all the fatty tissue down to part of my muscle. As you can see by the photo’s below it wasn’t a tiny cut.

ouch Photo on 7-29-13 at 1.12 PM #2

I ended up needing eight stitches after an immediate scary rush to the emergency room. This is probably an absolute worst case scenario or at least one of them but it’s nice to be aware of the negativity as well as the positive aspects to any situations.

How Many college students does it take to screw in a light bulb?

My typical day at work generally involves social networking, periodically answering a phone call or two and some emails. I am also privileged enough to be labeled a crazy cat lady only because I’m allowed to bring my cat into work with me. Her name is London and she is our office’s unofficial mascot, as I like to call her. She basically has the ideal life, she lounges around all day, eats, get’s her tummy rubbed by multiple strangers, and my boss feeds her crack all day long. What more could any cat ask for?! Here’s a few pictures of my adorable feline and I.


Now back to work:

So, where to begin – I work for a local rental company here in Winona, MN where I receive some of the most hilarious phone calls from tenants regarding maintenance requests. There is generally a wide array of requests but the two I find the most hilarious usually involve toilets, because lets be honest poop is funny and then there’s the light bulb debate.

So now to answer the true question at hand, and the pending debate over just how many college student’s does it truly take to screw in a light bulb? Here’s your answer: In my opinion it takes at least one male, because the majority of callers are female’s.

So, let’s now begin with our lesson of the day – First go out and purchase a light bulb, my advice a pack of four. Secondly, and I hope you’re already aware of this step because it should be common sense, but then again so should screwing in a light bulb…. (I know the anticipation is killing you), what should you do? You should turn off the electricity! Thirdly screw in said light bulb and then flip the switch back on and bravo you now metaphorically lite a bulb in your head and simultaneously put a little more light back into your life.

Once again to bring up the matter of poop, I’d like to call this historical phone call Montezuma’s revenge. On average I receive at least one complaint a week regarding someone’s toilet being clogged, not that it’s a big deal, but the discussion to come afterwards is what make’s me laugh. I always ask the tenants if they know why their toilet is clogged? Mostly because I’m laughing hysterically at them (not out loud of course), but, I’m waiting for one of them to finally admit they clogged the toilet. Where in reality the answer is always the same “no, I don’t know why the toilet won’t flush?” Really, we all know why the toilet won’t flush but we’ll all pretend like there isn’t a giant elephant in the room either. 

I won’t even get started on the 2 a.m. phone calls I receive from some drunk’s who locked themselves out of their apartment, because that just pisses me off. I’ll leave those stories for a latter date.