Yeah, the title is appropriate.
There's nothing I can really say that isn't expected of me to say. But I'm a fresh voice, so let me drop a little knowledge on you.
1st off for those who don't know: What's a cater waiter?
My answer: A freelance waiter for special events
My location: manhattan
How long have I been in the game: Not long enough to be as salty as I am, but 3 years FULLTIME.
This is my 1st time on blogspot; I have other blogs, but I pride myself on those ones being self-deprecatingly funny. The purpose for this one is to get it off my chest, w/out worry as to how it comes across. So bear with me.
My guess is that many of you may come to this blog w/ already pre-conceived suspicions towards anyone posting a title like "nyc cater waiter people hater." You may be right in some regards. But you have yet to get it "fresh-direct" from someone like me.
Onto the topic at hand..
Generalizations about cater waiters in nyc:
Most are actors
Most are men
Many are gay
Most are handsome, or look like someone you'd be happy to take an hors'devour from.
Most are struggling
Most have college degrees
*End of generalizations...*
There are many people out there who have "real" jobs. Salary, benefits, 401K etc. Some may look at cater waiters in a less-than-flattering light as people who are unskilled enough to get a "real" job, or as dreamers who can't cut it as the big stars they're bitterly not. Some people with "real" jobs started off in catering, but now look back less-than-fondly of the dirty work they used to do before someone gave them their professional break.
I'm here to tell you that my motivation to succeed is to prove all of these people wrong, and one day have enough currency to make their bitch asses work for me.
That's right, I want the rich horsefuckers in the hamptons to serve my handsome, educated, struggling ass.
If you're attending a special event, and there's someone serving you drinks or hors d'evours here's a few things you may want to know before you go...
When I'm bartending (which is every night), I don't give a fuck what you have to say, or quite frankly how you want your drink, other than the standard: w/ ice. I am changing the channel in front of me when you're talking to me. I definitely don't want to hear how long your week has been, or how tired you are.
Chances are, I haven't eaten yet, I just pulled a double in the hamptons, and just set up your party under the gun (which is also exactly what I did last night), because someone didn't have their shit together and now the hired help (me) will have to make up for someone's lack of foresight in setting up: "Oh, fuck, we didn't order enough glassware" or "where the fuck's the ice?"
It's usually the event planner's fault that nothing runs as it should, because event planners get paid to do what I'm already doing hands-on: Making sure the party runs smoothly. Then the event planner hangs out, orders us around (and none of us have ever seen this asshole before), and schmoozes w/ the client asking if everyone's happy, and then gets paid 5x what I do. They never have a fucking clue, because they never get down and dirty (like I do).
Everyone thinks their party is life or death at the start, but by the end everyone is drunk and happy. So why all the fucking stress?
Everytime I'm standing behind the open-bar, someone will cozy on up in front of me w/ their friend, and tell us both that they're going to buy their friend a drink. It's an open bar. That shit was funny enough the 1st time, but now I'm crapping my pants behind the bar. How about a fresh shit garnish?
It's exactly the same shit every night. It's "Groundhog Day."
Then I go home and have dinner at 1 or 2am, take a shower, and sleep most of the next day.
My girlfriend who also works in catering (and has a mortgage here in nyc), has been feeling guilty that she hasn't been making a difference in the lives of people who really need it the most. The hungry, the homeless, the ill, the down-trodden, people living in 3rd world countries who don't have running water readily available...
She and I are making a difference in the lives of:
The Upper East Side Society people.
The Rich Jews (often also upper east side)
The Hedge Fund company
The Jews' 13 yr old son or daughter**
**(this one I'll get to)
The Newlyweds
The Law firm
The Successful Artist
None of these people, to my knowledge are the most in need of anything.
At the end of the night, we've just made a difference for someone who is used to getting the things he/she/they want. Many have never had to struggle; they were born into money. Many don't give 2 fucks about us, as we don't give 2 fucks about them.
The bar or bat mitzvah is maybe the stupidest thing I have ever seen.
I am not knocking tradition...I believe people should worship who they want, how they want, and practice the age-old traditions of their people.
But somehow I think that a 1 million dollar party for your 13 year old son complete w/ scantily-clad jail-bait girls, a "pump-it-up" guy (the emcee to get the party started), a liquid chocolate fountain, a live DJ, and carnival rides are NOT part of the jewish tradition of the ancestors. There's no quiet ponderance of what this landmark means, or the marking of a young man's first steps into adulthood...And I'm sure there's quite a bit more intended to this sacred ceremony that I haven't even mentioned.
Instead, it's an obscene demonstration of wealth and excess, as only a wealthy Manhattan Upper East Side Jewish Family can provide.
Just last night a woman complained to me that she'd been on her feet since 9am, and needed "crack-cocaine" to get through the rest of the party. I just looked at her blankly, nodding in acknowledgement of her presence. She said something like "you're so non-chalant about what I just said." And I'm thinking, "I'd like for you to get the fuck out of my face."
Yes, I am a miserable 30 year old struggling cater waiter people hater.
I have 3 agents, 3 managers, and have gone on numerous auditions in the 1 month since I've introduced myself on the scene.
I am diligently working towards making my name, and I will one day show manhattanites what a true aristocrat is supposed to be about: Kindness and compassion.
But in the meantime, I'm imagining busting a bottle over your fucking head.
peace
