The long weekend is nigh and I'm off to get some pre-emptive sleeping done. Hopefully I'll not get too tired/wound up/bored/hungry too early. However well I do by the end of the shift on early monday morning I'll no doubt be in the mood to rip the heads off babies and other such pleasantries.
I'm probably one of the few folk who would far prefer it to rain all weekend and thus make my life quieter. Instead of a 14 hour beer garden to pub to club session it'd be sitting in watching the telly with a crate of wifebeater and a take-away.
A friend asked me if I got extra pay for working anti-social hours. I simply replied I was a doorman.
By it's very nature I work when most folk are out having fun and being social. I by my very nature seem to be anti-social.
Occasional postings from a toe-to-toe customer services physical interface operative.
The ramblings and collected tales from a jobbing licensed doorman. Tales of drunken woe, machismo, loose women, loose fists and 99% boredom. Hopefully updated as thoughts worthy of an audience hit my mind.
'Over a decade at it and not winning any beauty contests'
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