The good news is that my roommate's wedding got pushed off so I can stay in the apartment until the end of the year. Well maybe this isn't such good news for her (or maybe it is, I don't really know). I may even be able to pay my rent.
I got called back to come train at the bar so I guess I must be more fun than I thought. Or maybe they think they can make me more fun. I don't know how effective they'll be considering I've been called a grandma. By my friends. Although honestly, my grandmother is probably more fun than I am. And more popular.
In any case, it's unpaid training and there's no guarantee that I'm actually hired (though if they decide not to keep me they will pay me for the training). So I have to pretend to be fun for the next couple weeks so that they decide to keep me. Maybe I will make balloon animals or wear a funny hat. I've got the waitressing part down (it's basically the same everywhere) but they pride themselves on making everyone feel welcome and at home. In addition to not being particularly fun, I am also not exactly known for being personable. This may be my greatest challenge yet. Army? Piece of cake. Psychometric? No problem. Not only do I have to pretend to like the human race in general, I must now pretend that I care about every random drunk, loser, and yeshiva student still awed by the fact that he can drink at the age of 18 in Israel, that comes in. The fact is, I do not. I do not see regulars as my friends. I see them as people who hang out way too often in bars. Perhaps this will change when I get to know them as people, but until then I will just have to pretend that I am a happy, joyous person who does not despise the world and most people in it. Luckily I got pretty good at hiding my apathy or outright annoyance (reference the chicken wing man) while working at the restaurant. All I can say is, this had better be worth the money.
During the first training session, the head waitress (the one who hired me) kept telling me to smile and be myself. Go crazy she said. Be fun. She must be under the impression that everyone is fun on the inside and that they only have to let it out. And I have a feeling that my brand of crazy is not what she really intended. There's dance on the bars, sing drunken karaoke, leave at 5 in the morning crazy and then there's lock yourself in your room with your imaginary dragon, wear foil on your head to block out the radio transmissions, leap out the window convinced that the radiation from the microwave has given you the power to fly, kind of crazy. She should really be more specific when she says go crazy. It's not understood what kind of crazy she means.
The second training session was a Friday day shift. I don't know why they call this training (although I did learn a few things about alcohol) because I was pretty much just working normally. I took most of the people sitting in the area outside and did it almost alone (except for the occasional help when it got too hectic). They bartender did split the tips with me at the end though. After taking out the money for this person, for that person and so on, I was left with 10 shekels for my trouble (it was still unpaid training). After the shift the owner had a talk with me about being fun bla bla bla. He said I've got the technical stuff down but that people come to the bar because we talk to them and befriend them etc. And more of the same. Honestly, although the bartender was a nice guy, he didn't seem like a fun, crazy person per se. He just happens to have rubber bands in his beard.
I am considering getting a green mohawk or a tattoo (fake, don't have a heart attack daddy) on my nose so that they will think that I'm fun and leave me alone. Can't I just give good service and make tips that way? That's already better than you'll get in most places. I guess for now I'll just have to practice making balloon animals and making funny squeaky noises with my mouth.