L.A. Fakes

I had started a post about my first day at work (Saturday) and relaying all the details of my new semi-crush on my coworker and of the sceevy dudes who were scoping me out at the bus stop, but instead, I’m going to discuss something else.

L.A. Fakes.

I’ve been living in L.A. for almost three years now and was beginning to feel like I had a pretty good take on the place.  However, there was one thing people from here kept saying that I never understood.  Here’s how the discussion would go.

“Ah, you’re from NJ? How do you like LA?

“Meh, well I hated it at first, but now it’s alright.

“Why’d you hate it?”

“Well it’s just not that pretty – especially compared to other places in Cali.  And the people… I don’t know.”

“The people are fake.”

And I never understood this! In my head I said, well people can be fake everywhere.  But this conversation replayed itself over and over with numerous people and they all claimed people in L.A. were fake like no other people in the world.  It wasn’t until last night, on my second day of work, that I understood this.

During my first day I was there before 8 pm, before any servers come, so I was only around the bartenders.  Yesterday, it was a whole other story.  There were two other servers: The Vulture and The BBB (Bleached Blonde Bitch).  So I was about a half hour early for my shift because I have to take the bus, and the last time I tried to wait for the next bus I ended up being a couple minutes late.  I was standing on the side of the bar by the office, waiting for people who might want to sit at the table and eat/drink instead of at the bar. Since everyone was at the bar, I took the downtime to get to know some of the regulars, let them know who I was, and be friendly.  Here is a map so that placement doesn’t get confusing.

As soon as The Vulture clocked in she swooped over near the entrance and stood idly next to the kitchen.  I’ve never really been a server, mind you, so I was still learning how things work.  Everytime someone came in The Vulture would be at their ankles nipping for a bite while they ignored her and sat at the bar.  She came over to me for a little bit and introduced herself and seemed perfectly friendly and smiley.  When I asked her how she likes the place, she made a face and then shook her head playfully and said, “Oh no, it’s alright.  I mean there’s money to be made but it can be pretty slow.”

Clue #1 – Luke-warm feeling about the work situation.  As sarcastic as I am and as cyincal as I might seem, I actually tend to be reasonably trusting in what people say.  At least unless I have an informed reason to think they’re lying.  At this point, in my 15 minute relationship with The Vulture, I didn’t see any reason to peg her for a liar. 

So a couple of hours dragged on and the bar was still relatively dead.  At some point The Vulture made a sweep past me with her evil grin and said “Teehee, you bored yet?”  This, of course, in between attacking the customers.  But within the next hour, between about 9:30 and 10:30, a few people finally started coming in and sitting down.  Unforutnately for me,  The Vulture was right behind them (because they were ignoring her), standing on her toes to take their drink orders.  Then, when some people from the bar took their drinks to a table, The BBB was right on their tails to refill drinks and give them menus.  But I didn’t let this bother me too much.  I figured, this is my first real day, I’m just going to be patient, and I’m not going to fight with them.  I was still cordial with them and we chatted a little  and they were super-smiley and friendly.  It wasn’t until The BBB passed by me, patted me on the shoulder and said this that I knew. 

Clue # 2: “This is so bad.  They should just let you go home,”

What a manipulative fake.  That wasn’t even remotely covert – and at this point, their game had become so clear.

It probably wasn’t two minutes later that The Vulture flew in and said, “How are you doing? Let me know if you need anything!”

By now, I had only served one table, and it was the bouncers, but again, I stayed patient and just let things go.    I just kept talking to the regulars, letting them get to know me a little bit – the usual name, where I’m from, what I do.  Three people even requested my email and number at this point because they needed a tutor for their son/niece/cousin.  I wasn’t making the tips quite yet, but I wasn’t in a rush. And the other two servers talked about me on the other side of the bar.

I had been talking to these two men for a little and stepped on the patio for a just a moment and when I came back I saw his drink was getting low.  I asked him if he needed another, but of course, The Vulture, had already come in for the kill.  But he said, “Dang it! I didn’t even realize… she came so quick! Don’t worry, she won’t get any more of my drinks.” And you know what? For the rest of the night while The Vulture and the BBB were scheming together when they weren’t harassing tables for money, that table didn’t order another damn drink from them.  Then they ordered three dishes of food. 

Do you know how much money I got from that table that night?  Somewhere between 20 and 25 bucks.  This in addition to talking to other patrons around the bar and getting their orders out of it.  Maybe the two other servers did make more than me last night – I haven’t the slightest clue.  But now, I’ve got people who ask for me by name, and I’ve only been working their one night.  And around 11:30 it started to get busier and there was much more game to play. 

Later in the night, I was taking a bathroom break, and of course, the Vulture swooped in to… wash her hands?  I was about to leave and she asked me, with tinge of frantic worry, “So do you have another job?”  At this point I was suspicious of her every inhalation, and my face tends to be quite revealing of my thoughts, but I slowly replied, “Yeeessss.”  Then she started asking me inappropriate questions about how much I worked and whether or not it was fulltime and I was paid well/paid my tuition.  I lied and told her most of the hours I put in are volunteer, and my expression turned more into a “Why the hell are you asking me these questions” kind of look.  She then asked me if it bothered me that she was asking, but  I told her no, she could ask me whatever she wanted (that didn’t mean I was going to tell her the truth).  When I asked her if she also had another job, she proceeded to give me too much information about how she had three part-time jobs but was laid off and doesn’t think she’ll be able to pay her rent for next month.

Clue #3: Trying to make me feel sorry for your ass?

Everyday I grow less and less tolerant of people complaining about their shitty lives.  Clearly, in this case, I was supposed to feel sorry for her and understand that she needed the money oh-so-much more than me.  Then I was supposed to say, “Go ahead – take all the tables you need.”  She doesn’t know anything about me or my financial situation and doesn’t care, as she shouldn’t.  Likewise, she shouldn’t go trying to con me into caring about hers.  Just because I can be friendly to the customers and do my job with a smile doesn’t mean my bills are paid and my belly is full.  Sadly for her, I don’t think she realized how her telling me that made me feel just the opposite of what it was supposed to.  I feel so much less sorry for her than I did when she was just a vulture, instead of a “starving” one.

At the end of the night they sat around drinking beer and eating the artery-clogging food there.  “What, you don’t drink ?” they asked me, and made excuses of how one drink was “just a relaxer” when I said I didn’t want any.  I don’t need any of my judgment impaired around these nutcases.

So, this was my first realization of an interaction with a couple of  L.A. Fakes.  I can’t guarantee that this is something that would only happen in L.A. but I don’t think I’ve ever enountered people so completely manipulative.  I’ve worked in retail and in other food service jobs where it can be just as competitive,  but frankly, when I’m in NJ and a girl doesn’t like me, I know a girl doesn’t like me.  She’s either mean to me or she ignores me.  That’s how reasonable people do things.  But these L.A. fakes are a whole other breed. 

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Tags: fakers, food service, los angeles, manipulative people, new job, restaurant service, waitress