Cold Rosie , or Why I'm Such a Bitch at Work
This is not, by far, the first time I've had an online whinge about being a barmaid. I probably lose 2-3 Facebook friends every time I post a status about yet another rude customer, a bad shift, a drink being spilled down me. I'll try and make this blog entry one final attempt to appeal to anyone who suspects they may be a bit of an arsehole to those who work in a public service. If you like a drink or ten in your local boozer, please read on and take note. Before I launch into a giant rant about the irritating personal quirks of most of the people I encounter on a daily basis, it's probably worth mentioning that a few years ago, I was actually quite a tolerant person. I'm talking a good 6 to 7 years back. I was naive, friendlier, younger (obviously) - in fact, too young to be working behind a bar, and generally thought that the world was a nice place where people smile when they talk to you or say hello in the street. Joan Cusack summed it up perfectly in School of