A little Christmas Miracle...
Dec. 9th, 2007 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charliesmumI may have mentioned how I was given the opportunity to make some extra money last night by working a party.
Yeah...that sounds a bit slutty.
What I meant was, the Big Boss Guy at my work hosts a party every year for the executives of the company at his Rittenhouse Square Apartment. (which by the was is not where they live. They keep the place for entertaining purposes only. Good to be the king.)
In addition to the caterers and the butler (I met a Butler. One more thing to cross off my list of things to do before I die) he likes to hire a person to make sure the bathrooms (3) are stocked and kept clean, and to make sure the floors don't get messy with dropped food, etc. In the past he's had the college age cousin of one of my co-workers do it, but this year the cousin couldn't and my co-worker, knowing I'm a bit skint, asked if I wanted to do it and naturally I said yes. He pays $200 for this, you understand.
So last night I put on my pretty cranberry colored dress and went off to the party. I suppose there was potential to feel a bit, what's the word, not humiliated...humbled, I guess, being in something of a 'maid-like' position, but oddly enough, my ego got stroked on many occasions.
First off, Big Boss, when asked about me (I'm assuming) told people that I was an actress, which I thought was really nice.
Then, I was chatting with the wife of my superior, and when I mentioned I had a 10 year old son she said, 'You must have been a young mother!' and I said, well, I was 30 when I had him, and she said she was shocked because she thought I was only in my twenties.
As part of the entertainment, there was a man who did a (dead-on) George Burns impersonation, and George said I looked like Sigourney Weaver.
So, yes, lots of ego stroking. Also, lots of people said I was doing a bang-up job making sure there wasn't a crumb on the floor. And there were some spills, so I did feel like I earned my keep.
Not for nothing, but it says something that I spent much of the night composing LJ entries in my head, complete with nick-names for some of the guests. For example, There was Hot British Guy with his girlfriend Push-Up Bra. Seriously, she was weariing this empire-waist dress with spaghetti straps, and her breasts were practically spilling out the top. Sheesh.
There was also Inappropriately Dressed Girlfriend of Some Guy. She was wearing knee-length black boots over black stockings and a really short dress that looked more like a tunic, and to call the neckline 'plunging' is being generous. It went down to her navel.
The best part, probably, was a the end end of the night I went home with a gigantic chocolate cake and a check for $350.00.
I can buy Christmas presents. Yay!
Yeah...that sounds a bit slutty.
What I meant was, the Big Boss Guy at my work hosts a party every year for the executives of the company at his Rittenhouse Square Apartment. (which by the was is not where they live. They keep the place for entertaining purposes only. Good to be the king.)
In addition to the caterers and the butler (I met a Butler. One more thing to cross off my list of things to do before I die) he likes to hire a person to make sure the bathrooms (3) are stocked and kept clean, and to make sure the floors don't get messy with dropped food, etc. In the past he's had the college age cousin of one of my co-workers do it, but this year the cousin couldn't and my co-worker, knowing I'm a bit skint, asked if I wanted to do it and naturally I said yes. He pays $200 for this, you understand.
So last night I put on my pretty cranberry colored dress and went off to the party. I suppose there was potential to feel a bit, what's the word, not humiliated...humbled, I guess, being in something of a 'maid-like' position, but oddly enough, my ego got stroked on many occasions.
First off, Big Boss, when asked about me (I'm assuming) told people that I was an actress, which I thought was really nice.
Then, I was chatting with the wife of my superior, and when I mentioned I had a 10 year old son she said, 'You must have been a young mother!' and I said, well, I was 30 when I had him, and she said she was shocked because she thought I was only in my twenties.
As part of the entertainment, there was a man who did a (dead-on) George Burns impersonation, and George said I looked like Sigourney Weaver.
So, yes, lots of ego stroking. Also, lots of people said I was doing a bang-up job making sure there wasn't a crumb on the floor. And there were some spills, so I did feel like I earned my keep.
Not for nothing, but it says something that I spent much of the night composing LJ entries in my head, complete with nick-names for some of the guests. For example, There was Hot British Guy with his girlfriend Push-Up Bra. Seriously, she was weariing this empire-waist dress with spaghetti straps, and her breasts were practically spilling out the top. Sheesh.
There was also Inappropriately Dressed Girlfriend of Some Guy. She was wearing knee-length black boots over black stockings and a really short dress that looked more like a tunic, and to call the neckline 'plunging' is being generous. It went down to her navel.
The best part, probably, was a the end end of the night I went home with a gigantic chocolate cake and a check for $350.00.
I can buy Christmas presents. Yay!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2007-12-09 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-09 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-09 04:05 pm (UTC)I'm a little jealous, actually. :)
no subject
on 2007-12-09 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-09 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-09 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-09 08:39 pm (UTC)I did kind of fall off my chair at this point, but having hauled myself off the floor and my mind out of the gutter: that kind of one-night party-prep job can be an *excellent* way to pick up extra money. So congrats to you! (It feels a bit like being the designated driver, doesn't it?)