B4Y Mag Issue #17 May 2019 May 2019 Issue #17 B4Y - Page 94

More money, more problems At this particular place, everyone supposedly pooled their tips at the end of the night and split them equally. Being the idiot that I was, I agreed to go in on it. I mean, I’m not going to be the fucking guy who dissents. It’s good money—I’m going to share it, I’m not greedy. I threw in. I had started my shift at 9:00 PM and by the time I was done it was 3:00 AM. I was helping them clean up. I was drained, just drained. If you had put a Fitbit on me, I would have probably walked like nine miles back-and-forth. Like I said, I was usually 215 lbs. at that time, but when I went home and weighed myself that night, I was like 206.5. I sweat out nearly ten pounds. Then, the manager goes, “You did great, but this was a practice run so we can’t pay you.” That really pissed me off. How much practice do you need to be a barback? Are you fucking kidding me? Meanwhile, the bartenders are walking away with $500, $600. A couple of them were really cool. They each gave me $200 from their own tips. They said, “Listen man, you busted your ass tonight, you deserve this.” So, all along, that guy wasn’t even planning on paying me. I still came back there, because the work was good and con- sistent, but it was nuts. You’d always see guys getting cut off or thrown out. We had a couple of 350-lb. bouncers working round the clock. It was a completely different at- mosphere than Splash, which was campy yet somehow classy, exactly what you think of when you think of gay New York. This spot was like ratchet as fuck. I got in even better shape being there because it was so much physical labor, carting stuff around and batting peo- ple off. I could eat as much ice cream as I wanted because I was burning so many fucking calories that it didn’t matter. 94