My birthday horoscope said: You can't handle a 9-5. That was obvious. I had figured that out a few months after that conversation. I had quit the non-profit job and had one class at GW and had no idea how I'd make my rent. I called my boss at GW and got another class, but still, I had no idea how I would put food in that apartment.
So I returned to my waitressing roots. I applied for a "cocktail server" job posted on Craigslist.
This is how the interview went:
Boss: So you're a professor?
Boss: Name five types of vodka.
Me: Um, Absolut, Smirnoff...(trying to come up with other Russian names). I can see it on the counter in a big plastic jug. My father is really good at making Bloody Marys.
Boss: Ok, name five types of gin.
Me: Gin?! My grandpa makes martinis with it. He's only allowed to have one. It sort of smells like pine cones and tastes like perfume. (in my head, I'm so blowing this...)
Boss: Name five types of bourbon.
Me: (finally relieved!) Jack Daniels...
Boss: No, that's Tennessee Whiskey.
Me: (demoralized) that's what I drink and I don't even know anything about it?
Boss: Well, now you know.
It was raining, hard. I went home to my studio feeling absolutely incompetent. Didn't I do shots on my 21st? I thought back to the things that I drank and realized I had no idea what was in them or anything about alcohol. Other than, if you drink too much, it will make you sick (duh!). Luckily, I didn't have any alcohol around in my apartment and it probably would have mocked me if I had. Jack Daniels had betrayed me, or rather, I had betrayed him.