Breaking: Being a Hot Woman Around Drunk Rich Pricks Sucks

Ever wondered what it’s like to be a bottle service girl at one of those coke dusted d-bag watering holes called something like CLIMAX or ESCALATE or PIQUE or TRYST with $25 cover charges that would look horrifically depressing in natural light? Well, wonder no more — so-called “bottle service girls” have CONFESSED what it’s like to deliver expensive alcohol to tables full of men while wearing a tight uniform. Spoiler alert: it sounds like a nightmare factory.

The New York Post, in true Post-ian fashion, has branded a piece on “bottle service girls” a sexy confessional, when it’s really just some ladies who work as super high end waitresses for a living talking about how their job has pluses and minuses. Pluses? The money is good and with financial success comes a certain type of autonomy and the ability to buy some of that happiness Santa never brought you for Christmas. Minuses? Everything else! Especially the rampant creeping,

“You make more money [as a bottle-service girl], but you also have to deal with more bulls - - t. There’s no bar between you, so people can grab you and speak to you closely and engage you in conversation you don’t want to be part of for long periods of time,” says Dekhman.

“I pretend that I’m deaf and cannot hear,” she adds.

In addition, patrons sometimes ask bottle service girls to procure drugs or have sex with them. It sounds like everything bad about being a waitress at a place that isn’t playing Tiesto at the decibel level of a jet engine, but multiplied times a million.

I don’t feel sorry for bottle service girls, because grown ups can take care of themselves and people make choices etc etc etc. And it’s not that I’m jealous of bottle service girls, because lord knows that the $160,000 a year a few of them report pulling down is more than a person can make essentially acting like a jackass on the internet (aka “blogging”). I just don’t understand how any amount of money could make it “worth it.”

It’s not that working in the service industry is undesirable; I’ve done it and some of my dearest friends currently do. But I can’t stop thinking about what horror it would be to constantly interact with the sort of person who orders bottle service at nightclubs. I’ve known plenty of Bottle Service Ordering Guys (I worked in finance for 5. Years. Of. My. Life. God.), and once I went on a date with one. He had an AmEx black card and a soulless new construction condo with granite countertops and I was 23 and an idiot. I ended the date by saying I was going to the bathroom and just ghosting out of there and hopping on a bus and then going home and eating tacos. He never tried to call me and I’m not sure if he thinks I’m dead or what, but in case he did HELLO BOTTLE SERVICE GUY I ABANDONED AT STONE LOTUS IN CHICAGO IN 2006 I AM NOT DEAD. Slash I feel really sorry for everyone who waited on us that evening because you were such a rude dick. This was a tangent.

But maybe there is something empowering in being a “bottle service girl,” from a purely capitalist perspective. Any idiot stupid enough to spend more than $1000 on a night of drinking probably doesn’t deserve to have money.