I’ve never really enjoyed New Year’s Eve all that much. I’ve actually never done much on it, except over the last few years spent with my wife (who I’ve never missed one with). Going by the traditional means of celebration, I’ve only straddled the years inebriated and lip-locked only a handful of times. Most often it is hardly ever been memorable.
I had one really lousy evening way back when I was 13 or 14. There was a neighbor down the street that felt that she had the perfect opportunity for me. She was involved with catering and had arranged for me to be the coat room attendant at a local hotel who was offering a New Year’s Eve dinning and party package. I would be paid nothing but tips, but she assured me that this would be a windfall of cash. With over 300 people attending, I would be laughing all the way to the bank. Let’s just say if I got a dollar a coat, that would have been an unimaginable amount of cash at that age. I was seeing green.
I was dropped off in the early evening and was given a run-down of the structure of the event. I was ushered to a meager closet in the main hall just inside the lobby door. I was provided a small basket to collect my bounty. The wait staff would pass by every now and then, each with their own prognostication of future riches. I grinned with green.
People started to make their way in a steady stream. I took jackets and provided little number slips that matched the numbered hangars behind me. People were genial, but not overly effusive in praise for my efforts. The tip basket sat empty. The neighbor lady breezed by right before dinner to check on me. I must of expressed some sort of concern about the lack of green so far. She thought it would be best to get the pile started with her own donation of a dollar or two. This would act as a gentle reminder.
I sat at my post as the party carried on in the ballroom. The volume rose considerably with each passing hour. Canned dinner music, gave way to canned ballroom dancing music. The mummer of polite conversation morphed into laughter that got more uproarious as we neared midnight. This was really the first time that I witnessed people getting drunk en masse. The hallway remained somewhat quiet though, with my only company being those going back and forth from the restroom.
Midnight approached and party hats and noise makers were distributed. The countdown began and 10 seconds later there was was cheering followed by the standard mummering of auld lang syne. Some of the more square guests immediately made their way to my station. The cash explosion was about to commence.
I handed out about ten coats and noted that there wasn’t a single piece of currency placed in the basket. Was I supposed to ask folks for a tip? How hard was I supposed to work for this? As I began to ponder what further actions I needed to take, a disturbance happened down the hall. A loud siren began to blare. Somebody had just pulled the fire alarm.
Hotel employees began urging people to vacate the building. This of course being January, nobody wanted to go outside without their coat. A huge crush of people attacked my booth. Numbered tickets started being thrown at me with folks identifying their belongings on the rack behind me. I was easily overwhelmed, and I just started grabbing coats and throwing them to whoever was taking them. This was NOT a polite crowd. These were lonely people with no other places to go, who just overpaid for a crappy meal, a sip of champagne, and plastic noisemaker. The clock had struck midnight. There was no reason to stick around. Let’s start off the New Year harassing a frazzled teenager behind a half door.
The place cleared out, and I was still left behind the door a few feet away from an annoyed fireman who was more than miffed that people hadn’t evacuated faster. I guess had there actually been a fire, I would have been a goner. The fireman asked me if I had seen who pulled the alarm, being that it was only a couple yards away from where I sat. I told him I heard more than I saw. The fireman declared the building safe and a few folks came back in. Most had left though. I finally looked at my basket, And not a single person left anything.
The last few hours of my year in a mothball smelling closet, and all I had to show for it was the lousy 2 bucks that was placed as seed money. I was more than defeated. The neighbor lady at least noted my situation, and went around to the entire catering staff and asked for folks to pitch in. These kind folks actually pulled $30 together. I wasn’t going to leave empty handed after all.
I think my Dad had actually planned on me bringing home much more as well. He had already decided, without my input, that this money was going directly into my stale savings account. He got it in his head that they were going to take what little I had in there if I didn’t create some activity. Granted, $30 wasn’t going to be the root cause any great account stability. He informed me of his plan, and I told him I understood his concern, but I wanted at least half of it. After such a crappy evening, I felt I deserved something. Hiding it in the bank is not earning to a young man.
I went with my Dad to the bank, he went up to the counter, made the transaction, and we left. I asked him for my half. He said nothing. It was at this point that I realized he had placed the entire amount in my savings account. I’m not sure why he thought he would just get away with this. We got home and I tearfully told my Mom of his devious action. She made him march right on up to his cash stash in his sock drawer and give me $30 out of his pocket. His nature being tight with money, this was a great penalty for his deception.
So in a sense I made $60, which in all reality was a quite a sum for me back then. I’m sure I blew most of it on fast food.
Happy New Year. I hope your year ends better than this example.
I had one really lousy evening way back when I was 13 or 14. There was a neighbor down the street that felt that she had the perfect opportunity for me. She was involved with catering and had arranged for me to be the coat room attendant at a local hotel who was offering a New Year’s Eve dinning and party package. I would be paid nothing but tips, but she assured me that this would be a windfall of cash. With over 300 people attending, I would be laughing all the way to the bank. Let’s just say if I got a dollar a coat, that would have been an unimaginable amount of cash at that age. I was seeing green.
I was dropped off in the early evening and was given a run-down of the structure of the event. I was ushered to a meager closet in the main hall just inside the lobby door. I was provided a small basket to collect my bounty. The wait staff would pass by every now and then, each with their own prognostication of future riches. I grinned with green.
People started to make their way in a steady stream. I took jackets and provided little number slips that matched the numbered hangars behind me. People were genial, but not overly effusive in praise for my efforts. The tip basket sat empty. The neighbor lady breezed by right before dinner to check on me. I must of expressed some sort of concern about the lack of green so far. She thought it would be best to get the pile started with her own donation of a dollar or two. This would act as a gentle reminder.
I sat at my post as the party carried on in the ballroom. The volume rose considerably with each passing hour. Canned dinner music, gave way to canned ballroom dancing music. The mummer of polite conversation morphed into laughter that got more uproarious as we neared midnight. This was really the first time that I witnessed people getting drunk en masse. The hallway remained somewhat quiet though, with my only company being those going back and forth from the restroom.
Midnight approached and party hats and noise makers were distributed. The countdown began and 10 seconds later there was was cheering followed by the standard mummering of auld lang syne. Some of the more square guests immediately made their way to my station. The cash explosion was about to commence.
I handed out about ten coats and noted that there wasn’t a single piece of currency placed in the basket. Was I supposed to ask folks for a tip? How hard was I supposed to work for this? As I began to ponder what further actions I needed to take, a disturbance happened down the hall. A loud siren began to blare. Somebody had just pulled the fire alarm.
Hotel employees began urging people to vacate the building. This of course being January, nobody wanted to go outside without their coat. A huge crush of people attacked my booth. Numbered tickets started being thrown at me with folks identifying their belongings on the rack behind me. I was easily overwhelmed, and I just started grabbing coats and throwing them to whoever was taking them. This was NOT a polite crowd. These were lonely people with no other places to go, who just overpaid for a crappy meal, a sip of champagne, and plastic noisemaker. The clock had struck midnight. There was no reason to stick around. Let’s start off the New Year harassing a frazzled teenager behind a half door.
The place cleared out, and I was still left behind the door a few feet away from an annoyed fireman who was more than miffed that people hadn’t evacuated faster. I guess had there actually been a fire, I would have been a goner. The fireman asked me if I had seen who pulled the alarm, being that it was only a couple yards away from where I sat. I told him I heard more than I saw. The fireman declared the building safe and a few folks came back in. Most had left though. I finally looked at my basket, And not a single person left anything.
The last few hours of my year in a mothball smelling closet, and all I had to show for it was the lousy 2 bucks that was placed as seed money. I was more than defeated. The neighbor lady at least noted my situation, and went around to the entire catering staff and asked for folks to pitch in. These kind folks actually pulled $30 together. I wasn’t going to leave empty handed after all.
I think my Dad had actually planned on me bringing home much more as well. He had already decided, without my input, that this money was going directly into my stale savings account. He got it in his head that they were going to take what little I had in there if I didn’t create some activity. Granted, $30 wasn’t going to be the root cause any great account stability. He informed me of his plan, and I told him I understood his concern, but I wanted at least half of it. After such a crappy evening, I felt I deserved something. Hiding it in the bank is not earning to a young man.
I went with my Dad to the bank, he went up to the counter, made the transaction, and we left. I asked him for my half. He said nothing. It was at this point that I realized he had placed the entire amount in my savings account. I’m not sure why he thought he would just get away with this. We got home and I tearfully told my Mom of his devious action. She made him march right on up to his cash stash in his sock drawer and give me $30 out of his pocket. His nature being tight with money, this was a great penalty for his deception.
So in a sense I made $60, which in all reality was a quite a sum for me back then. I’m sure I blew most of it on fast food.
Happy New Year. I hope your year ends better than this example.
No comments:
Post a Comment