Old business men like to tip young hostesses...no, not just waitresses...hostesses.
That's right, a party of 3 older men in Armani suits walked in Saturday night. I checked their reservations and quickly sat them at their requested table. One man put his arm around me. "Care to join us?" he asked, winking at me and laughing with his executive chums. For seating them and taking their coats, he paid me 20 bucks! Aside from dealing with these rich assholes all day, I love my job.
Next week is Spring Break and I'm a little nervous.
Ok, I'm really nervous. Patrick's taking me home with him. To meet his parents.
Patrick's dad is a lawyer, and he and Patrick's mom travel all over the world. He makes alotta dough.
I'm not one to mesh with the rich folk. Although my grandpa saved a substantial amount of money for my college and stuff (let's just say I was very surprised when Grandpa Joe's lawyer gave me the net value of everything. Oh yeah, the house got an offer as well.), we have never been "rich" or "wealthy" or even "upper- middle class."
So anyway, and I hate to stereo-type, but I'm afraid that the members of his family are going to be snobs.
I hope they like me. And I them.
We're driving up this weekend and right away, on Sunday, we're going to Patrick's cousin's wedding, then we'll stay with at his parents' house until Wednesday and then we're going to their cabin out in the forest or woods or country somewhere. I get to bring my telescope!
So, the last few days I've been looking at everything in my closet and realizing that everything I have to wear is either too slutty, too ugly, too casual, too bright, blah blah blah. Even though my budget's tight I think I'm gonna have to go shopping.
This whole entry is so much about money and snobs and rich people and shopping that you all must think I'm a pretentious little brat myself. It's just not coming out right, today.
*elaine*