this guy enters the bathroom. he's already tipped...
'sup dude?'
'my friend says that i've got some comb over action goin on. says if i fix it this chick'll be crazy about me.'
'yeah?...i wouldn't call that a comb over, but i see what he's saying. got some gel if ya want it.'
'nah, that's alright. gel gives it that wet look, i don't really like it.
'haha, as you use water to style your hair...'
'ah whatever, i don't really care about her opinion, i'm just doin' this for my boy anyways. she'll sleep with me regardless.'
'hmm...well if you fix it just right maybe you can get with him too...'
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
check your bias at the door...
ya know, a lot of people, upon encountering their first bathroom guy, ask "why aren't you working the women's bathroooom? that's gotta be where it's at!" it does always make me chuckle. i always retort with, "nah, i suspect most women don't carry cash. that's what you're here for."
plus, every guy in here keeps gooooooooin on and on that there are no cute girls out there, and as soon as one sets her cute self in here, you yell at her! i'm pretty sure they'd do the same thing to you, if you walked in, and it would be way to hard to break the dynamic for me.
"alright, alright maybe so..."
"oh i know so baby, and the things is, you don't want girls in here. cause this is where you wanna fuck with your boys. man flirt a lil bit, it's all good. that's probably what they're doing in there." *shrug* "the best thing is, when the girls do come in here and you guys aren't in here. cause then i can flirt like crazy. they can dig it, because i'm making them comfortable in an otherwise uncomfortable space, and they know it isn't real. since they know that i'm working, i can say 'sup girl, you need a condom, or a smoke for later ;)" and they'll laugh.
one time this lady waved me over in the girls bathroom. i stayed put, because my set up was there, but told her to come into the boys. 'it's cool, there's a stall. ;)' she walks in and gloats all over about how cute i am in my bow tie. 'take a shot with us booooy' "bring it into the bathroom and i will..."
once a woman and her 3 pronged possie told me i look like a stripper...
"haha, thanks, so do you..."
"are you gay?"
"...ya know, as gay as i need to be to get a tip ;)"
they walk away.
"i knew it, he's suuuuuuuuch a faggit!"
i check my pack of lights. i've smoked half, goddamn it.
it's been pretty suprising how open i am about being queer at this job. on my second shift ever i was terrified. the bathroom was set up so that there was a whole nother room for stalls and urinals than the wash room. that meant as i said hello to people as they walked in, i also got a look at their back[side]. 6/10 times they said something about some faggot. i got worried. now though--maybe thanks to a bit of drink--it kind of just comes out of me. this guy came in one time, we struck up a conversation and i immediately knew he was queer. as we're chatting he avoids a phonecall.
"ugh...my boyfriend won't leave me alone!"
"oh yeah?" I ask, quite surprised he confirmed my suspection.
"yeah, he wants to go down town, but i don't wanna do the fag thing tonight. i just wanna chill here and get drunk."
"hell yeah dude, my experience with gay clubs hasn't been the best. are you alright at bars like this? no one really fucks with you or anything?"
"nah, i do fine...i'll be back with your g&t soon."
"see you then..."
the man from the previous post, who came out to me at the end of the night, avoids my gaze. i can usually get a head bob or wave from most of the people that recognize me, but not from him. i wonder if he worries about me outing him? the last time i was at that bar, it was country night. someone told me, "hey when i go to wash my hands i'll do it." this is a common response from people who seem to feel wierd about not tipping, or maybe just weird about someone helping them do such an easy task. the only thing is, people suck at it. i do it all night, for multiple people at once. i am so much faster than you could ever hope to be. i explain to this man that he'll just be slowing me down and make my job harder, but her persists.
"nah, i can do it man. i refuse to let you wash my hands. you're doing a job that i can do myself."
"i know you can do it...."
"nah, i can't let you do a job that i can do. if someone else is doing a job that you can do yourself, than they're doing a nigger's job."
"yo, fuck you. get the fuck out of my bathroom."
"what? i didn't say anything"
"i'm black."
"nah, you ain't dark enough...."
"look at me! fuck you, and GET OUT!"
"ah man, i didnt...i said nigga"
"no, you didn't...and even if you did, you can't say that, you're white."
"ah i'm sorry, i didn't mean to offend..."
"no one ever does..."
"...and i'm not racist i work with people of all races..."
"you may not be racist, but what you said is..."
"now get out of fuckin bathroom"
he reaches into his wallet after telling me he has no tips all night. four dollars suddenly appear.
he places it in the tip plate and apologizes once more as he leaves. i feel that i shouldn't take it, but i've made $11 tonight. i pack up my shit and leave. i hate white supremacy.
i wonder about having to affirm blackness for people to take their racism in my presence seriously. i'm of anglo saxan and cuban descent. there might be some black in there somewhere, and i ususally have positive racial conversations with other people of color. most start with the question "are you black?" some of have said i have a unique vantage ponit to fight racism, but i'm not sure if affirming an ethnicity that i'm unsure of is the right way to do it.
plus, every guy in here keeps gooooooooin on and on that there are no cute girls out there, and as soon as one sets her cute self in here, you yell at her! i'm pretty sure they'd do the same thing to you, if you walked in, and it would be way to hard to break the dynamic for me.
"alright, alright maybe so..."
"oh i know so baby, and the things is, you don't want girls in here. cause this is where you wanna fuck with your boys. man flirt a lil bit, it's all good. that's probably what they're doing in there." *shrug* "the best thing is, when the girls do come in here and you guys aren't in here. cause then i can flirt like crazy. they can dig it, because i'm making them comfortable in an otherwise uncomfortable space, and they know it isn't real. since they know that i'm working, i can say 'sup girl, you need a condom, or a smoke for later ;)" and they'll laugh.
one time this lady waved me over in the girls bathroom. i stayed put, because my set up was there, but told her to come into the boys. 'it's cool, there's a stall. ;)' she walks in and gloats all over about how cute i am in my bow tie. 'take a shot with us booooy' "bring it into the bathroom and i will..."
once a woman and her 3 pronged possie told me i look like a stripper...
"haha, thanks, so do you..."
"are you gay?"
"...ya know, as gay as i need to be to get a tip ;)"
they walk away.
"i knew it, he's suuuuuuuuch a faggit!"
i check my pack of lights. i've smoked half, goddamn it.
it's been pretty suprising how open i am about being queer at this job. on my second shift ever i was terrified. the bathroom was set up so that there was a whole nother room for stalls and urinals than the wash room. that meant as i said hello to people as they walked in, i also got a look at their back[side]. 6/10 times they said something about some faggot. i got worried. now though--maybe thanks to a bit of drink--it kind of just comes out of me. this guy came in one time, we struck up a conversation and i immediately knew he was queer. as we're chatting he avoids a phonecall.
"ugh...my boyfriend won't leave me alone!"
"oh yeah?" I ask, quite surprised he confirmed my suspection.
"yeah, he wants to go down town, but i don't wanna do the fag thing tonight. i just wanna chill here and get drunk."
"hell yeah dude, my experience with gay clubs hasn't been the best. are you alright at bars like this? no one really fucks with you or anything?"
"nah, i do fine...i'll be back with your g&t soon."
"see you then..."
the man from the previous post, who came out to me at the end of the night, avoids my gaze. i can usually get a head bob or wave from most of the people that recognize me, but not from him. i wonder if he worries about me outing him? the last time i was at that bar, it was country night. someone told me, "hey when i go to wash my hands i'll do it." this is a common response from people who seem to feel wierd about not tipping, or maybe just weird about someone helping them do such an easy task. the only thing is, people suck at it. i do it all night, for multiple people at once. i am so much faster than you could ever hope to be. i explain to this man that he'll just be slowing me down and make my job harder, but her persists.
"nah, i can do it man. i refuse to let you wash my hands. you're doing a job that i can do myself."
"i know you can do it...."
"nah, i can't let you do a job that i can do. if someone else is doing a job that you can do yourself, than they're doing a nigger's job."
"yo, fuck you. get the fuck out of my bathroom."
"what? i didn't say anything"
"i'm black."
"nah, you ain't dark enough...."
"look at me! fuck you, and GET OUT!"
"ah man, i didnt...i said nigga"
"no, you didn't...and even if you did, you can't say that, you're white."
"ah i'm sorry, i didn't mean to offend..."
"no one ever does..."
"...and i'm not racist i work with people of all races..."
"you may not be racist, but what you said is..."
"now get out of fuckin bathroom"
he reaches into his wallet after telling me he has no tips all night. four dollars suddenly appear.
he places it in the tip plate and apologizes once more as he leaves. i feel that i shouldn't take it, but i've made $11 tonight. i pack up my shit and leave. i hate white supremacy.
i wonder about having to affirm blackness for people to take their racism in my presence seriously. i'm of anglo saxan and cuban descent. there might be some black in there somewhere, and i ususally have positive racial conversations with other people of color. most start with the question "are you black?" some of have said i have a unique vantage ponit to fight racism, but i'm not sure if affirming an ethnicity that i'm unsure of is the right way to do it.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
just oneuh them days, don't take it personal
I grunt as i carry my supplies to this musty bathroom. I cross the threshold and the stench of stale urine and cigarettes chokes me out. "Ughhhh..." I do my best to maintain balance as i dodge piss puddles. it's like i'm playing in aftermath of a rainstorm. my stomping grounds is a dank, terribly ventilated, stale bathroom resurrected back to life by a piss monsoon. tonight's gonna be great, i can feel it.
i'm not supposed to smoke in this bathroom, fuck. i must mask the smell. i have plenty of calogne, but that's like pouring perfume on a pig.
first guy comes in.
"how's it going dude?"
"it'll be going much better in a second."
...
"aaahhhh" i avert my eyes as he relives himself two feet from me. i grab for the soap, as he grabs for the flush handle. flushhh! a flash flood of urine careens over my shoes and sprints for the front door.
awesome. i'm standing in piss, working for shit and i'll have to remind drunks not to flush over and over and over and...
all night people are coming in saying "you work here?! you're better than this job!...this job must suck. etc."
i've learned to get used to the homophobia, because most of the time it is the way these guys flirt with each other. most of the time it is not really hateful, it's just the only way they can be sweet to each other.
"look at this faggot right here!" guy points to his friend and puts his arm around me.
"have you ever seen a bigger faggot, dude?"
"uhh--i don't uh- o_O..."
"this guy can take a mean dick!"
"fuck you, bitch i'll bend you over any day!" he responds with authority.
"haha, no really though me and him are gonna smash some bitches tonight!"
"fuck yeah dude, you look really good. this is gonna rule!"
"you look really good too!"
*bam*
in the half second of the last dialogue, their vocal tones, and body language changed. a tiny peak into the parts of their psyches that seemed to want to 'smash' each other. i take a deep drag on a cigarette and as i let the smoke slowly curly out of the bottom of my lip, i grin: i have an intimate secret.
the rest of my night goes terribly rough. i feel i spoke too soon about homophobia. younger guys are coming in and aggressively talking about how i have the worst job in the world, how they can hook me up at a mall kiosk selling beepers and i can kiss this bullshit job goodbye. they're all asserting themselves past my personal space, making it terribly difficult for me to offer soap and push calogne and cigarettes.
eventually, i crack. "yo, i don't give a fuck about your job, you're gonna have to move i can't do mine" "well fuck you then, faggot bitch!"
towards the end of the night i'm crushed. people have treated me like shit all night, i've made no money and i feel i'm so close to punching someone. i hope i don't go off on anyone. then, this big beefy dude comes in, i'm positive he works here, and i'm apprehensive because he gave me shit the night before.
"hey, how's it goin' dude, can i get a cigarette?"
"it's goin' man, pretty bad, you got it, what kind you want?"
he grabs a light and reads my face and body language. as i light up with him he begins...
"dude, don't let these guys get to you. they're shit. you're working, and you need to own that. these guys aren't doing anything but fucking themselves up."
"thanks, man, i know it's just hard." i struggle to let this guy in. since my first experience with him was tense, i'm not too keen to let my guard down, especially considering what is getting to me most is how homophobic all the patrons were. i know this guy is tryin to make me feel better, but he won't be able to make me feel better about that.
as if he knows he's not getting to me positively he repeats himself. "look, man, just know you're working. you've got a job, and that deserves respect. make sure you respect yourself for that, alright?"
"hell yeah, thanks a lot man, i really appreciate it. i've just had to take a lot of shit tonight, and i really feel like i could punch someone. i feel like sitting in the dark," i say desperately.
"you gotta not let em get to you," he responds, "man i'm a homo guy, you know how much shit i have to take at this job?!"
there it is. i light up, and i'm off. a ball of energy that cannot be stopped. "oh my god, dude, the homophobia in here is killing me! it's all these younger cats, man they're so fucking aggressive, and shit. this isn't guys being friendly between each other, most anyways--they're all trying to dominate this space and it makes me want to scream! fuck. i never thought i'd be able to safely talk to someone about this in a bar..."
he puts his right hand out, and i mine and we firmly shake. he drops a 20 in my tip jar. "keep your chin up, man."
i'm not supposed to smoke in this bathroom, fuck. i must mask the smell. i have plenty of calogne, but that's like pouring perfume on a pig.
first guy comes in.
"how's it going dude?"
"it'll be going much better in a second."
...
"aaahhhh" i avert my eyes as he relives himself two feet from me. i grab for the soap, as he grabs for the flush handle. flushhh! a flash flood of urine careens over my shoes and sprints for the front door.
awesome. i'm standing in piss, working for shit and i'll have to remind drunks not to flush over and over and over and...
all night people are coming in saying "you work here?! you're better than this job!...this job must suck. etc."
i've learned to get used to the homophobia, because most of the time it is the way these guys flirt with each other. most of the time it is not really hateful, it's just the only way they can be sweet to each other.
"look at this faggot right here!" guy points to his friend and puts his arm around me.
"have you ever seen a bigger faggot, dude?"
"uhh--i don't uh- o_O..."
"this guy can take a mean dick!"
"fuck you, bitch i'll bend you over any day!" he responds with authority.
"haha, no really though me and him are gonna smash some bitches tonight!"
"fuck yeah dude, you look really good. this is gonna rule!"
"you look really good too!"
*bam*
in the half second of the last dialogue, their vocal tones, and body language changed. a tiny peak into the parts of their psyches that seemed to want to 'smash' each other. i take a deep drag on a cigarette and as i let the smoke slowly curly out of the bottom of my lip, i grin: i have an intimate secret.
the rest of my night goes terribly rough. i feel i spoke too soon about homophobia. younger guys are coming in and aggressively talking about how i have the worst job in the world, how they can hook me up at a mall kiosk selling beepers and i can kiss this bullshit job goodbye. they're all asserting themselves past my personal space, making it terribly difficult for me to offer soap and push calogne and cigarettes.
eventually, i crack. "yo, i don't give a fuck about your job, you're gonna have to move i can't do mine" "well fuck you then, faggot bitch!"
towards the end of the night i'm crushed. people have treated me like shit all night, i've made no money and i feel i'm so close to punching someone. i hope i don't go off on anyone. then, this big beefy dude comes in, i'm positive he works here, and i'm apprehensive because he gave me shit the night before.
"hey, how's it goin' dude, can i get a cigarette?"
"it's goin' man, pretty bad, you got it, what kind you want?"
he grabs a light and reads my face and body language. as i light up with him he begins...
"dude, don't let these guys get to you. they're shit. you're working, and you need to own that. these guys aren't doing anything but fucking themselves up."
"thanks, man, i know it's just hard." i struggle to let this guy in. since my first experience with him was tense, i'm not too keen to let my guard down, especially considering what is getting to me most is how homophobic all the patrons were. i know this guy is tryin to make me feel better, but he won't be able to make me feel better about that.
as if he knows he's not getting to me positively he repeats himself. "look, man, just know you're working. you've got a job, and that deserves respect. make sure you respect yourself for that, alright?"
"hell yeah, thanks a lot man, i really appreciate it. i've just had to take a lot of shit tonight, and i really feel like i could punch someone. i feel like sitting in the dark," i say desperately.
"you gotta not let em get to you," he responds, "man i'm a homo guy, you know how much shit i have to take at this job?!"
there it is. i light up, and i'm off. a ball of energy that cannot be stopped. "oh my god, dude, the homophobia in here is killing me! it's all these younger cats, man they're so fucking aggressive, and shit. this isn't guys being friendly between each other, most anyways--they're all trying to dominate this space and it makes me want to scream! fuck. i never thought i'd be able to safely talk to someone about this in a bar..."
he puts his right hand out, and i mine and we firmly shake. he drops a 20 in my tip jar. "keep your chin up, man."
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