The hostess with the mostess (income)

Jobs!  I have many.  Hostessing is one of them.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I once showed up to a hostessing job only to find out on arrival that I would be serving light snacks and champagne to a group of European businessmen.  Oh whoops, I forgot to mention the fact of four-inch heels on the second story of a moving, vintage double-decker bus (thankfully not open-topped).

A little bit like this, I think.

That was exciting!  The thing about walking -- and let's just forget about the shoes and the service for a minute -- on a moving double-decker bus is that you cannot do it and NOT fall over UNLESS you are holding onto a pole or railing at all times.  Now, for fun, let's add those other factors back in!  Shoes just tall enough to make standing up straight contingent on a sideways bend of the neck; one hand holding a rail for stability: that leaves one hand free to hold a tray of snacks, a bottle of champagne, empty glasses, or anything else that an amused European businessman might try to hand you as you stumble past.  And stumble we did.  Luckily there were only two of us, but passing in the aisle was no easy feat.  London traffic meant that the bus jerked to a halt approximately every seven seconds, causing heroic and undoubtedly amusing lunges, grabs, and near-businessmen-lap-tumbles for stability. Miraculously, neither a drop of drink nor a single nut hit the ground on our account.

This was certainly my most ridiculous hostessing shift to date, but it was exemplary of the general experience in one way: I didn't have to do much, and I got paid stupidly well.  In that particular instance, we were booked for four hours, but only actually worked for about 40 minutes.  We got paid for four hours (standard minimum for agency work).

This is what does my head in about the hospitality industry.  The people who work the hardest get paid the least.  When I am bartending, wine-waiting, or serving food, I am generally running my ass off and taking way more crap from customers than I do as a hostess.  I have to think on my feet, problem-solve, lift heavy things, not spill red wine on fancy customers, and smile through it all.  For all of this work, I get paid a fraction of what I do to tease up my hair, wear some flattering makeup and maybe a dress, and smile at customers.  Same smile!  Same face!  Less pay.  The kitchen porters who are elbow-deep in greasy water get paid even less than my waitress self does.

Of course, the perversion of it all is that I enjoy the grunt work more.  I would so much rather run my ass off than stand around in heels, I just want to be paid the same.