Confessions of a Marriott Waitress

I've not had my letter inviting me to a tea party to celebrate my Marriott anniversary yet, its a new manager so I'll let her off, but its my third year working for Marriott. I'm incredible I know. 

It was only a month after my last GCSE and I became a waitress. I cried on my first shift. Haha, no really I did. I can't fully remember why but a chef probably shouted at me and I probably got an order wrong. I say probably because these things happen often "No Madame, you definitely ordered a medium steak, it says so on the cheque..."

So in three years I have witnessed the great to the down right crazy, oh and several restaurant managers. Each new one with bigger and bolder goals than the last, unfortunately most would find it difficult to organise a hug in a brothel. However, the current one seems to be doing the best out of the several hundred I have seen. 

So, the guests, wow we get some oddballs - I've been asked to make a red wine spritzer, thats red wine with lemonade, so basically high treason and accountable for death. I had to ask twice whether he wanted me to actually mix the two, he did... sacrilege. 

I've spilt red wine over a man's shirt - he refused to help me hand out the drinks to a large table, downright rude, so I had to offer him our free dry cleaning service, which he refused but throughout the night continued to say "careful, she's back!" every time I served the table.

I've served Swiss guests and told them extremely confidently that the Sea Bream is a river fish and they completely fell for it, so did I till I realised what I had said 3 hours later... Not my finest hour. 

The list is massive on all things I've witnessed, done wrong or assisted in doing wrong. I've ripped up a sign that said "Linconshire sausages", its "LincoLnshire sausages", I've now thrown away approximately five free lap dancing tickets that keep appearing in the bar (whoever keeps putting them there, stop, I had an angry mummy slam one on the bar after her three year old daughter asked why a naked lady was on the front of the ticket) - this really has confused me because the ticket says that last entries are at 3:30am, the bar closes at 4am and then the place closes at 5:30am... what happens in that hour and a half... or do I not want to know? I still have one in my bag for evidence, if anyone wants it... 

I've seen a string of associates (thats other waiters and waitresses in Marriott speak) enter and leave, some just moving departments for very unknown reasons, some for very known reasons.

Ofcourse, ever since I was 18 and started working behind the bar I have have some very interesting comments come my way from guests. Before I was 18 I wasn't allowed to serve large groups of male golfers on my own (no girl wanted to!), they're a rare breed aren't they. I've been asked several times what nationality I am; "British", I reply, "Don't lie", I've recieved back on two occasions - erm, rude, not lying. I've heard a fellow waitress of a similar skin colour be asked if her uncle is Robert Mugabe - to which she laughed, I'd have thrown a steak knife. Anyway, a few weeks ago it was a very quiet Monday evening to which I was informed I had to keep the bar open late because a few residents were returning and expected me to serve them. I knew who it was, I served them a month before and I didn't return home till 4:30am. This one male was very interested in the cellars of the place, so I said if they ordered champagne they can see them - I thought that was fair, so they ordered. Anyway, we returned from the cellar (a few others came) and a very seedy man said "was it through her back doors?" - doors, plural?!- ew. Then as I was innocently restocking the fridges I heard: "I bet you wouldn't mind waking up next to her" - to which I replied "last orders". 

I can definitely see there being a #2 to this story... 

Be good

RHS x

Confessions of an all girls' private school

We would frolic naked in the school grounds. 

The End. 

That was a joke, 

We only did that on special occasions, like Christingle. 

Its not what everyone expects

I went to an all girls' private school from 11 to 16 and I loved it, until I was in year 9. 

The bitchyness, the lack of boys (which meant everyone was after everyone else's boy - weren't they? - no.), there were snipes of "lock up your boyfriends" - yep. 

There were 36 of us in 1 year. 18 in one form. You can imagine what it was like when there were then 3 maths sets. 

There were lesbians, I will admit, but only a sprinkling, whether the school turned them that way, I'm not so sure!

The grounds says it all.

The location was the settlement, Ockbrook, 

the younger years were housed in the Mount, 

the middle years in the Grange and the upper school in the Main school, 

the hall was the Birtill hall, 

there was the Mullinuex centre and the Sports complex, oh and a swimming pool - Don't get excited, you were swimming in rat wee and spiders. 

People got D's at GCSE 

Yes really, there were those that didn't get a choice and had to take Foundation maths, and they got a D (I believe one question was how many sides does a triangle have - at a private school ha.)

We were the worst year for GCSE grades - sorry Mrs Steele (is she still there?...) 

The day our Head Mistress said you can't be pretty and clever

University challenge was in full swing and there was an... interesting... looking girl on there, she potentially wouldn't have won any beauty contests. 

Anyway, we were that age where we were posing in the toilets in the tiny mirrors with our Sony Ericson phones and judging each others choice of sunglasses. 

Mrs Steele wasn't impressed, she spent a whole 30 minutes during assembly (after we'd sung All Things Bright and Beautiful - think about it) telling us if we spent to much time on our looks we wouldn't succeed. 

THAT right there, was the motivation we needed. 

I got an A in maths *cough cough* 

3 male teachers and several hundred girls 

Yeah, what you're thinking is true, 

With one anyway. A science teacher, who was suspected of placing a web cam at the back of the class on the top of a globe and insisted on taking us into another room one by one to "discuss" our grades. 

I did only discuss my grades. 

After running club one lunch time he did ask me if I'd been to running club (I was in my P.E kit - good guess) 

Talking about P.E. kit - everyone had a Skirt with our full names embroidered and P.E. pants (grandma-ish), with a fully named tracksuit, the skirt then became a Skort, yep. 

An english teacher arrives to teach Set 2 GCSE English, I was in set 2. 

He was by no means attractive but that didn't stop him sleeping with a girl who had left the year previous. naughty. he now teaches abroad I believe - or was removed. 

Domino Effect

One girl does something unheard of (with a boy), so does EVERYONE else. Really. It was a big case of "keeping up with the Joneses" on everyone's side

And it got totally out of hand. 

People were accused of everything and I mean everything! 

If I was a rich girl (na na na na na na na na na na na na na na naaaaa) 

I'm not saying I went to Cheltenham Ladies' College (at around £23,000 a year!) but some girls had more than others and there was a hierarchy. 

There was an R form and an M form in every year. I was in R, the M's were always superior, in looks, wealth, grades, the R's had more fun though. 

There were three houses... Hugglepuff, Ravenousclaws and Griffins. 

Ha, sorry, they were Budowa, Commenius and Cennick, 

I was in Budowa, we lost everything, except sport 

In summary

Trip to NYC

There were girls who bought alcohol to school, some who bought in drugs, some who bought in STD's, some who became pregnant (SCANDALOUS!), some who left the building to go and see the "talent" across the road. He still lives there now, I believe - nice chap. 

There was bitchyness, there was teacher abuse, there was an hour and a half for lunch spent outside doing nothing, there were teachers who had degrees from African universities (that were made up), History teachers that had a soft spot for Neville Chamberlain, bought in action men and told us the answers to everything, there were Ski trips to America, trips to New York, trips to Venice, France and Germany, rituals of singing as loud as you could in the dining hall when it was someone's birthday and forgetting your hymn book was basically high treason and you were held accountable for death. 

Mad, bitchy, full of nutters. 

In September, its taking boys. 

Co-Ed. 

Ruined. 

RHS x