My room has turned into a cave. Deep in the ghettos of Brooklyn. Take the 4 train as far as you can go, past the sky scrapers and hot pretzel carts. Walk a bit, go up the stairs, and enter my new domain.
Thanks to a designer friend with failed plans at creating an in home studio I've acquired long black curtains for the windows in my room. My land lord had complained to me that the towels I had stolen from equinox to hang in my windows were unattractive and that I needed to replace them with actual curtains. I contacted anyone I knew who played with fabric and while many people referred me to fabric shops one guy had curtains he had never used and now my room is a dark cave in Brooklyn highlighted soley by the light from my laptops ancient screen.
Perhaps its the weather or perhaps its time in the city but the more people I meet the less optimistic I am that I'll leave this city with many I'll remain in contact with. So with the outcome already forseen what is the point to seek real acquaintances? The industry I'm a pawn in requires friendliness and for that I accept conforming to the blatant plague of fakeness which already suffocates this city but in the past year I've been here my perception has gone from awe to distaste.
The other day when I was coming down the stairs at Union Square Station a herd of people were headed my way after getting off the train and as the crowd dispersed I noticed an old man laying on the ground struggling to get up. I ran to him and stuck my hand under his face to show him that he could use me to get up. He rose and thanked me. Why the fuck didn't anyone else help him up? Too much in a rush to get to their jobs or lives that a loss of 20 seconds to effortlessly help someone out was unfathomable? Priceless.
Alas, my cave has turned to my refuge. This may be temporary as a bear hibernates for only so long though the nights of passing out with the TV on and mornings exuding into afternoons is an accepted change of pace.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Arrojo Hair Shoot
Working at the gay bar has caused some stress for the times when I have needed to look presentable on weekends. For my big hair shoot which began on a Sunday I knew it was inevitable that I'd be in rough shape upon arrival though had no idea that the Saturday before the shoot I'd be working til 4 am and drinking for the next hour after that. Fortunately Frank, one of the bartenders at the bar allowed me to crash at his place 20 minutes away from my bar rather than having to trek the hour and 20 minutes to my place.
My host graciously set out a pillow and blanket as I set my phone to its charger. We sort of joked about how I drunkenly went to my last shoot hung over with less than 3 hours of sleep and how I was gross for not showering beforehand and how it was sort of funny in a twisted way how I'd be repeating the same procedure for my shoot which was to begin in a few hours. I gave my sincerest thank you to Frank for his generous hospitality and set multiple alarms on my phone to assure my lack of tardiness at my shoot. My efforts prevailed and I, in my drunken sloth like manner managed to jump the 3 train and get to the hair school 5 minutes early.
Breakfast was to be served at 8:30 according to the days itinerary. "Breakfast" consisted of a platter of bagels, muffins, and croissants. Not the healthiest of options but never the less I splurged and had a croissant and some water. I met the other models, two females and discovered that the second one to arrive was one of the models I had walked in a runway show just earlier in the week.
The ladies were addressed first getting their make up done and hair cut. This provided me the opportunity to take advantage of an uncomfortable (comfortable to the hung over) bench in a large room which was full of salon chairs and mirrors. I managed to sleep til about noon and felt somewhat better than I had upon my arrival that morning.
I was summoned by the owner of the schools assistant and was told that I'd be shot on camera with Nick (the man in charge) explaining what he'd be doing to my, at this point mess of a hair style. My amazement to the size of this establishment continued as my passage through more unseen rooms brought me to the studio where I'd be introduced and eventually would receive my "trendy hairstyle".
Nick Arrojo is an older guy with a keen sense of humor and laid back style. Everyone who he interacts with has a smile from his jokes or reverent fear of his words. Being that I was his subject to display his work on he treated me as a friendly business partner. On camera his intellect in the field he was blatant and if I were into hair styling I'd be honored to be selected to be one of his students.
After my brief introduction on camera and having told the audience what he'd be doing to my hair, Nick introduced James. James would be the one who'd be dealing with the coloring (highlights) of my hair. He told the viewers that he'd be adding some color where if my hair was naturally down the highlights would be barely noticeable but if styled up the hair color would stand out. After his stint on camera James brought me to where I had taken my nap that morning and gave me my highlights.
By the time my hair was colored lunch was delivered and I indulged in a few half sandwiches. Lunch wrapped up quickly and I was back in the studio with the cameras. Nick then proceeded to cut my hair while being filmed as he vocalized each step of the process to the potential students who would be watching the film. After about an hour my cut had be completed and I was finished for the day.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Hair School Casting
Ever since I started dealing with legitimate modeling agencies I've been told to grow my hair out. I was never a fan of the Abercrombie - Justin Beiber look but complied with my superiors instruction. The shaggy hair style was a constant nuisance at the gym through my rigorous cardio sessions with sweaty bangs whipping my eyes at every thrust plus it was so long that at photo shoots unless the hair stylist was quite talented my hair was endlessly styled in the comb over look which is not my preference. The long hair had shown no true beneficial effect until I found a casting for an instructional hair cutting video for a prestigious hair/make up school.
I was out of the city with my family for Christmas when I had discovered the casting call. Originally I had planned to stay up North a few days past the day of the casting but decided to cut the stay early due to the generous compensation which was offered. It turned out to be a wise decision.
Taking trains through blizzard conditions prompted delays and transfers that I had expected but sincerely wished not to encounter. After about 5 hours on this train and that my bed welcomed me. The next morning I was looking severely exhausted with blood shot eyes, puffy eye lids, and some unflattering facial hair. I figured that since those holding the casting were a make up school as well as a hair school they could look beyond that of which could be concealed with their expertise.
The inevitable tardiness of the persons in charge of the casting was unsurprising yet still annoying though I took this time to scope the competition. The majority of the folks were female models and the men that I saw were with long hair but of a completely different overall aesthetic. One was big like a football player with long curly hair and the other was of some foreign descent with overgrown characteristics like mine. I remained neutral, neither worried nor confident. I acted my normal self, the owner of the school met with me, and I told him that I was beyond due for a cut and that if he wasn't the one to cut my hair I'd soon find someone else.
Days had passed since I had heard any news and my anxious worry pushed me to email the school. I didn't type a message asking if I had been selected no I decided to add some finesse to my inquiry and sent, "I've been holding the dates of the potential shoot and I'd just like to know if I may release them as I haven't heard back from you because I have others who would like to shoot on those days." I got a nearly instant apologetic reply stating that I had been selected and that details were soon to follow.
I was out of the city with my family for Christmas when I had discovered the casting call. Originally I had planned to stay up North a few days past the day of the casting but decided to cut the stay early due to the generous compensation which was offered. It turned out to be a wise decision.
Taking trains through blizzard conditions prompted delays and transfers that I had expected but sincerely wished not to encounter. After about 5 hours on this train and that my bed welcomed me. The next morning I was looking severely exhausted with blood shot eyes, puffy eye lids, and some unflattering facial hair. I figured that since those holding the casting were a make up school as well as a hair school they could look beyond that of which could be concealed with their expertise.
The inevitable tardiness of the persons in charge of the casting was unsurprising yet still annoying though I took this time to scope the competition. The majority of the folks were female models and the men that I saw were with long hair but of a completely different overall aesthetic. One was big like a football player with long curly hair and the other was of some foreign descent with overgrown characteristics like mine. I remained neutral, neither worried nor confident. I acted my normal self, the owner of the school met with me, and I told him that I was beyond due for a cut and that if he wasn't the one to cut my hair I'd soon find someone else.
Days had passed since I had heard any news and my anxious worry pushed me to email the school. I didn't type a message asking if I had been selected no I decided to add some finesse to my inquiry and sent, "I've been holding the dates of the potential shoot and I'd just like to know if I may release them as I haven't heard back from you because I have others who would like to shoot on those days." I got a nearly instant apologetic reply stating that I had been selected and that details were soon to follow.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Dead Mans Free Zone
Ties used to be my thing. My collection consists of over 200 unique, colorful, amazing pieces. The ties are old to new and came from thrift shops, donation, or as gifts. Every one acquires random things such as ties but their method of finding them can lead to some interesting stories.
As I was sitting in my corner at work waiting for the bar patrons to check their belongings I was browsing Craigslists' "Free" section. I found a title to a posting which I could not resist clicking to learn more. "FREE ESTATE", the location listed was Chelsea which anyone familiar with Manhattan real estate knows is a pricey area. My automatic assumption was that there could be something of value so I emailed the address listed to inquire with and got a nearly immediate response.
A tenant in an apartment building had recently died and had no listed family so the landlord created a post on Craigslist to see if anyone would be interested in taking some of the items. I was given an address and time to arrive, the information was added to my calendar. On the day of I went to the gym and then made my way to the apartment.
I entered the large building where I instantly came to the conclusion that this building required some significant financial standings to reside in due to the fact that the front door was one of those automatic sliding doors you see in Grocery stores. There were also desk men and elevators-all further signs that the rent in this building was high. All these signs and the fact that I was headed to an apartment on the top floor at the end of the hallway made me think that this was it, I'm going to find something good here today.
Walking down a dimly lit carpeted hallway I instantly pictured seeing the man who's apartment I was about to pick through wheeling down the hallway on a stretcher in a body bag. I saw the zipper slide down, his body perk up, and him saying that he hopes I find something good as his skin starts to fall off. There was something odd about what I was about to do but let's be honest, that feeling had never stopped me before.
The apartment looked as if it were searched through by the FBI and in rage of a lack of findings they just threw his shit everywhere. As you enter the residence there's a huge living room, one bedroom, a bathroom, and a good sized kitchen. There was even a blood stain on the carpet from where the previous owner had been shot. HaHa come on-just playing.
I was there for clothes so I immediately went for the bedroom. The landlord said that most of his tenants clothes had already been sent to the salvation army and my heart dropped. Fortunately though there were still some items for me to browse.
The jackpot was a few boxes of old watches clearly with no value mixed in with some old school (like 60's-70's) sunglasses. I took 2 watches and 8 pairs of sunglasses. Then I noticed a few unopened closets in the kitchen and I found a suit that fit and a vintage Paul Smith shirt. After concluding that I had covered all areas that required searching I managed to leave with a full body mirror as well.
Some clothes, lots of sunglasses, and a mirror added to my inventory all because I was bored at work and was scanning the free section of Craigslist. This is clear evidence that dead people can still be cool. Thanks dead guy from west 23rd street, may you rest in peace.
As I was sitting in my corner at work waiting for the bar patrons to check their belongings I was browsing Craigslists' "Free" section. I found a title to a posting which I could not resist clicking to learn more. "FREE ESTATE", the location listed was Chelsea which anyone familiar with Manhattan real estate knows is a pricey area. My automatic assumption was that there could be something of value so I emailed the address listed to inquire with and got a nearly immediate response.
A tenant in an apartment building had recently died and had no listed family so the landlord created a post on Craigslist to see if anyone would be interested in taking some of the items. I was given an address and time to arrive, the information was added to my calendar. On the day of I went to the gym and then made my way to the apartment.
I entered the large building where I instantly came to the conclusion that this building required some significant financial standings to reside in due to the fact that the front door was one of those automatic sliding doors you see in Grocery stores. There were also desk men and elevators-all further signs that the rent in this building was high. All these signs and the fact that I was headed to an apartment on the top floor at the end of the hallway made me think that this was it, I'm going to find something good here today.
Walking down a dimly lit carpeted hallway I instantly pictured seeing the man who's apartment I was about to pick through wheeling down the hallway on a stretcher in a body bag. I saw the zipper slide down, his body perk up, and him saying that he hopes I find something good as his skin starts to fall off. There was something odd about what I was about to do but let's be honest, that feeling had never stopped me before.
The apartment looked as if it were searched through by the FBI and in rage of a lack of findings they just threw his shit everywhere. As you enter the residence there's a huge living room, one bedroom, a bathroom, and a good sized kitchen. There was even a blood stain on the carpet from where the previous owner had been shot. HaHa come on-just playing.
I was there for clothes so I immediately went for the bedroom. The landlord said that most of his tenants clothes had already been sent to the salvation army and my heart dropped. Fortunately though there were still some items for me to browse.
The jackpot was a few boxes of old watches clearly with no value mixed in with some old school (like 60's-70's) sunglasses. I took 2 watches and 8 pairs of sunglasses. Then I noticed a few unopened closets in the kitchen and I found a suit that fit and a vintage Paul Smith shirt. After concluding that I had covered all areas that required searching I managed to leave with a full body mirror as well.
Some clothes, lots of sunglasses, and a mirror added to my inventory all because I was bored at work and was scanning the free section of Craigslist. This is clear evidence that dead people can still be cool. Thanks dead guy from west 23rd street, may you rest in peace.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Fit Model
New York City does sleep. Usually when the weather is shit or after 3 am on a weeknight before Thursday. The constant here is that your survival instinct is always on and those without financially comfortable careers are always in contemplation of where their next dollar will come from. Those who don't plan their income find themselves on the streets or on some form of cheap public transportation back home.
I've maintained my aggressive pursuit of survival and success in modeling as well as in the general life of a city goer. Since I transitioned from catering work to being a coat check boy at the gay bar I've gotten used to long nights on the weekends with quite an unpredictable guarantee that I'll make a decent income for the evening. Coat check aside, jobs still exude through the sketchy gates of Craigslist and I've some how managed to maintain a constant flow of again an unpredictable guarantee of a decent income.
One new job I've acquired from Craigslist which relates to modeling is "Fit Modeling". A mens shirt designer posted an announcement searching for a fit model and I managed to get the job. Fit modeling is basically acting as an opinionated mannequin for a clothing designer to report any discomfort in size and any other thoughts in regards to the final cut of the piece. I met with the designer 3 times before he permitted the group who would be fabricating the shirts to go ahead with production.
We met in the second floor of a building on west 38th street in Manhattan. The room was long and artificially lit with multiple long fluorescent bulbs, the ones that make you feel like you're in a lab or a stale office building and all of the workers were of Asian descent. Clothes of many varieties were either on hangers or on mannequins and I took from my observation that the people I saw worked with designers to put their art into production to send to the consumers. It was a really neat experience to see a new step in the process of how clothes come to be.
At my first appointment I was measured thoroughly as my body shape was to be the mold for which the shirt would be created. The "work" for the next two meetings itself was effortless as all I was asked to do was merely put on the shirt which was of a low quality fabric the business used to make test runs for the designers to check measurements and use on their fit models. They asked how the piece felt on me, how easily I could move my arms, and if I could recommend any changes.
The section of the shirt in between my shoulder blades was where my only comment was instigated as it was a bit tight. After speaking of my discomfort they said they'd add 3/4 of an inch to the location where it was tight and other than that the shirt was ready to go. The designer added a few minor alterations such as pocket location and collar width but other than that the shirt was good to go.
I got paid in cash and was thanked sincerely for my laid back attitude and professionalism by the designer. He said that he'd like to continue to use me throughout his work and that he'd like to use me for his look book (basically a catalog) which equates to more money I can look forward to also the potential of getting more images to use in my portfolio. Getting paid to have your photo taken is one thing but then when you receive quality photos with potential to be placed in your book its a really nice feeling because most of the time the photographer is the one getting your money or you or your agent has to request a free test, its a win win scenario.
Networking, as I've said before is a large part to the success in modeling so the more designers I work with the more confidence and optimism I get that good things are right around the corner and with fashion week around the corner I need to do as much as possible to get my name out there.
More to Come Soon
I've maintained my aggressive pursuit of survival and success in modeling as well as in the general life of a city goer. Since I transitioned from catering work to being a coat check boy at the gay bar I've gotten used to long nights on the weekends with quite an unpredictable guarantee that I'll make a decent income for the evening. Coat check aside, jobs still exude through the sketchy gates of Craigslist and I've some how managed to maintain a constant flow of again an unpredictable guarantee of a decent income.
One new job I've acquired from Craigslist which relates to modeling is "Fit Modeling". A mens shirt designer posted an announcement searching for a fit model and I managed to get the job. Fit modeling is basically acting as an opinionated mannequin for a clothing designer to report any discomfort in size and any other thoughts in regards to the final cut of the piece. I met with the designer 3 times before he permitted the group who would be fabricating the shirts to go ahead with production.
We met in the second floor of a building on west 38th street in Manhattan. The room was long and artificially lit with multiple long fluorescent bulbs, the ones that make you feel like you're in a lab or a stale office building and all of the workers were of Asian descent. Clothes of many varieties were either on hangers or on mannequins and I took from my observation that the people I saw worked with designers to put their art into production to send to the consumers. It was a really neat experience to see a new step in the process of how clothes come to be.
At my first appointment I was measured thoroughly as my body shape was to be the mold for which the shirt would be created. The "work" for the next two meetings itself was effortless as all I was asked to do was merely put on the shirt which was of a low quality fabric the business used to make test runs for the designers to check measurements and use on their fit models. They asked how the piece felt on me, how easily I could move my arms, and if I could recommend any changes.
The section of the shirt in between my shoulder blades was where my only comment was instigated as it was a bit tight. After speaking of my discomfort they said they'd add 3/4 of an inch to the location where it was tight and other than that the shirt was ready to go. The designer added a few minor alterations such as pocket location and collar width but other than that the shirt was good to go.
I got paid in cash and was thanked sincerely for my laid back attitude and professionalism by the designer. He said that he'd like to continue to use me throughout his work and that he'd like to use me for his look book (basically a catalog) which equates to more money I can look forward to also the potential of getting more images to use in my portfolio. Getting paid to have your photo taken is one thing but then when you receive quality photos with potential to be placed in your book its a really nice feeling because most of the time the photographer is the one getting your money or you or your agent has to request a free test, its a win win scenario.
Networking, as I've said before is a large part to the success in modeling so the more designers I work with the more confidence and optimism I get that good things are right around the corner and with fashion week around the corner I need to do as much as possible to get my name out there.
More to Come Soon
Friday, November 5, 2010
I am FAT
So I've had this frequent occurrence lately where people seriously have been calling me fat. No matter how kindly they try to put it, its like a handicap people awkwardly observe and freely announce. Many people ask me how that makes me feel-to be called fat with the physique that I've got. I'm not self conscious (just yet) about myself nor my body and I strive to just say Hey It Is What It Is but when people start calling you fat and you have less than 10% body fat its sort of frustrating considering the amount of time I put in at the gym.
I work out religiously and have stubbornly come to the point where I finally embrace that even if I work out for 5 hours a day I can't eat yodels and burgers after my work outs and expect to achieve the goals I have for my physique. My abdominals are like bears in hibernation and the fat on top is like a cold winters frozen temperatures. I will not have flawless (fatless rather) abs until the winters air ( a new diet is Spring weather ) thaws and I get 95% discipline in my diet.
Like being called fat another constant in my NY life is the question of how intensely do I want to be a model. The answer determines the effort I'm willing to put forth to make success a reality. While there's a lot of bad in the industry the small percentage of good almost makes it worth the constant negativity. Working with designers and aspiring photographers is an enlightening experience.
I once used to be in love with art whether it be music or simple drawing. As life has passed reality has flooded my thought process with distraction from my artistic endeavors and now there is a serious diminished interest which is sad. When I see an emerging designer or up and coming photographer an attractive characteristic I observe is the heart filled passion they put into their work. Creating a new piece for the line or contemplating a new concept to shoot is just as exciting to them as a child opening the first gift at their birthday party and that reminds me of my days of passion and enthusiasm. Sure I put a lot of effort into modeling but my passion for it is not there, my enthusiasm for New York City has faded, I've reached the point where one seeking something new relocates their residence and acquires the "geographical fix".
I was recently on a shoot with a female model from Finland and we were chatting of traveling and moving around the world. We both agreed that we as humans most always want what we can't have and that it is very necessary to incorporate variety into your life especially in regards to travel. Now that the streets of New York aren't new I seek a change. I do not foresee another opportunity to get a geographical fix in the near future so I shall incorporate more variety into my life.
There will always be constants but a great way to add variety to my boring (and one of the benefits of modeling-shooting with new people all the time) is to add to my network of acquaintances. Every day I email many people I don't know and either introduce myself so that they may consider me for future projects (whether they be designers or photographers) or inquire with stylists or hair and make up artists to see if they're interested in testing (shooting) with me. I suppose you could say I'm an explorer and since most of the earth has already been discovered I opt to explore people and sift through the good and the bad. Since I cannot travel as much as I'd like I suppose something I am semi passionate about is meeting new people and seeing where our relationship leads me to.
It could be a casting director for a shoot whom I shot with that calls me up randomly months after a shoot to see if I'm available that day for a last minute project or a photographer that I haven't heard from in ages that remembered our test and wanted to see if I'd be interested in another collaboration, you never know where a good first impression/encounter could lead. So-Look at this-in this one writing I've realized that I still have a passion in modeling indirectly and its through the adventures it lures me into...brilliant
I work out religiously and have stubbornly come to the point where I finally embrace that even if I work out for 5 hours a day I can't eat yodels and burgers after my work outs and expect to achieve the goals I have for my physique. My abdominals are like bears in hibernation and the fat on top is like a cold winters frozen temperatures. I will not have flawless (fatless rather) abs until the winters air ( a new diet is Spring weather ) thaws and I get 95% discipline in my diet.
Like being called fat another constant in my NY life is the question of how intensely do I want to be a model. The answer determines the effort I'm willing to put forth to make success a reality. While there's a lot of bad in the industry the small percentage of good almost makes it worth the constant negativity. Working with designers and aspiring photographers is an enlightening experience.
I once used to be in love with art whether it be music or simple drawing. As life has passed reality has flooded my thought process with distraction from my artistic endeavors and now there is a serious diminished interest which is sad. When I see an emerging designer or up and coming photographer an attractive characteristic I observe is the heart filled passion they put into their work. Creating a new piece for the line or contemplating a new concept to shoot is just as exciting to them as a child opening the first gift at their birthday party and that reminds me of my days of passion and enthusiasm. Sure I put a lot of effort into modeling but my passion for it is not there, my enthusiasm for New York City has faded, I've reached the point where one seeking something new relocates their residence and acquires the "geographical fix".
I was recently on a shoot with a female model from Finland and we were chatting of traveling and moving around the world. We both agreed that we as humans most always want what we can't have and that it is very necessary to incorporate variety into your life especially in regards to travel. Now that the streets of New York aren't new I seek a change. I do not foresee another opportunity to get a geographical fix in the near future so I shall incorporate more variety into my life.
There will always be constants but a great way to add variety to my boring (and one of the benefits of modeling-shooting with new people all the time) is to add to my network of acquaintances. Every day I email many people I don't know and either introduce myself so that they may consider me for future projects (whether they be designers or photographers) or inquire with stylists or hair and make up artists to see if they're interested in testing (shooting) with me. I suppose you could say I'm an explorer and since most of the earth has already been discovered I opt to explore people and sift through the good and the bad. Since I cannot travel as much as I'd like I suppose something I am semi passionate about is meeting new people and seeing where our relationship leads me to.
It could be a casting director for a shoot whom I shot with that calls me up randomly months after a shoot to see if I'm available that day for a last minute project or a photographer that I haven't heard from in ages that remembered our test and wanted to see if I'd be interested in another collaboration, you never know where a good first impression/encounter could lead. So-Look at this-in this one writing I've realized that I still have a passion in modeling indirectly and its through the adventures it lures me into...brilliant
Monday, November 1, 2010
My new job as a coat check man @ a gay bar
New York City life is a hustle and hustling requires extra energy. With prolonged exposure to the hustle I've encountered an exhaustion I can't seem to kick. I feel that the intelligent resolution to the situation is to counter the hustle characteristics I've flooded my life with upon moving to NYC with somewhat of a more simple lifestyle. The main experience I had when moving to the city was an instability in my schedule. I was doing work from craigslist, flyering, catering, as well as striving to shoot as much as possible all of which proved to be successful but increased my internal pace and set a subconscious anxiety in place.
Modeling is currently not paying me anything and all I've been getting from my photo shoots is new photos instead of new checks. With that I've been forced to work more and since I feel I need to center myself due to the instability in my schedule I've decided to find a steady job. Most jobs in the city require loads of experience to get hired and since I'm not highly skilled in many forms of employment I decided to pursue a different avenue.
I knew I could find some type of work at a gay bar or at least entice some gay manager to hire a young male model so I emailed all the gay clubs in the city and got a few replies back. A small club/lounge/bar in the west village called XES sent me an email asking me to come in for an interview for the "coat check" position. I figured it would be common sense work so I said I was experienced and was welcomed at my interview. The general manager of the club met with me and said he'd give me a chance to see how I worked with the "team". My first night was Thursday night-Karaoke night.
I got to the bar for 5 pm and the manager showed me where my equipment was and where I was to hang the coats. I set up a small table close to the front door and queued up a few ticket tags for the hangers. The manager that hired me got me a roll of tape for bags (to tape tickets to a bag) and the most necessary tool for my success-a tip jar. When I was ready to go I stood at my position and awaited the crowd. The shitty thing is that there is no closet to hang coats I have to walk up and down the stairs for each item-fml
The bar gets a good rush for happy hour-buy one get one free from 6 to 9 and I arrived at 5 so I had a small crowd there already but few coats. There is a lull in activity until about 11 or 12 and then the true party people come out and I get most of my business. The more alcohol one consumes there the more likely I'm going to get a tip.
I find it very humorous when an older guy clearly drunk and blatantly gay comes up to me not knowing I'm the coat check guy even though I've got my table and a sign that says "FREE COAT CHECK" and tries chatting with me. They'll stumble in front of me and stare for a few seconds-few minutes if they're wasted and then engage in a failure of communication. Some guys will let me know they've been looking at me all night wondering why I'm standing in the corner or will say something like "you look like you're not having any fun" and I'll give them a fake smile and nonchalantly point to the "COAT CHECK" sign above my head and inform them that I am an employee of the bar not a patron or sometimes just point to the sign and follow it with silence so their slow thought process is evident to them without a verbal explanation from myself.
I worked halloween night and one guy asked me what my costume was being that I was holding a coat hanger. Again I gave the fake smile (but wish I said, dude are fuckin dull?) and pointed to the sign. At least he was keen enough to make it humorous and say "well I'm not the smartest cookie". Right.
So I get an hourly rate as well as tips and the tips make the job worth it. Catering made me a little more money but not by much and with that you had to look proper, deal with arrogant cocky assholes (serving them not ALWAYS working with them), and the hours were so random plus the payment was always delayed. Cash money every night and a paycheck every other week, it works. So I've found some stability in employment and when mixed with a daily gym workout things should get back under control just in time for the crazy Fashion Week scheduling-LOVELY.
Modeling is currently not paying me anything and all I've been getting from my photo shoots is new photos instead of new checks. With that I've been forced to work more and since I feel I need to center myself due to the instability in my schedule I've decided to find a steady job. Most jobs in the city require loads of experience to get hired and since I'm not highly skilled in many forms of employment I decided to pursue a different avenue.
I knew I could find some type of work at a gay bar or at least entice some gay manager to hire a young male model so I emailed all the gay clubs in the city and got a few replies back. A small club/lounge/bar in the west village called XES sent me an email asking me to come in for an interview for the "coat check" position. I figured it would be common sense work so I said I was experienced and was welcomed at my interview. The general manager of the club met with me and said he'd give me a chance to see how I worked with the "team". My first night was Thursday night-Karaoke night.
I got to the bar for 5 pm and the manager showed me where my equipment was and where I was to hang the coats. I set up a small table close to the front door and queued up a few ticket tags for the hangers. The manager that hired me got me a roll of tape for bags (to tape tickets to a bag) and the most necessary tool for my success-a tip jar. When I was ready to go I stood at my position and awaited the crowd. The shitty thing is that there is no closet to hang coats I have to walk up and down the stairs for each item-fml
The bar gets a good rush for happy hour-buy one get one free from 6 to 9 and I arrived at 5 so I had a small crowd there already but few coats. There is a lull in activity until about 11 or 12 and then the true party people come out and I get most of my business. The more alcohol one consumes there the more likely I'm going to get a tip.
I find it very humorous when an older guy clearly drunk and blatantly gay comes up to me not knowing I'm the coat check guy even though I've got my table and a sign that says "FREE COAT CHECK" and tries chatting with me. They'll stumble in front of me and stare for a few seconds-few minutes if they're wasted and then engage in a failure of communication. Some guys will let me know they've been looking at me all night wondering why I'm standing in the corner or will say something like "you look like you're not having any fun" and I'll give them a fake smile and nonchalantly point to the "COAT CHECK" sign above my head and inform them that I am an employee of the bar not a patron or sometimes just point to the sign and follow it with silence so their slow thought process is evident to them without a verbal explanation from myself.
I worked halloween night and one guy asked me what my costume was being that I was holding a coat hanger. Again I gave the fake smile (but wish I said, dude are fuckin dull?) and pointed to the sign. At least he was keen enough to make it humorous and say "well I'm not the smartest cookie". Right.
So I get an hourly rate as well as tips and the tips make the job worth it. Catering made me a little more money but not by much and with that you had to look proper, deal with arrogant cocky assholes (serving them not ALWAYS working with them), and the hours were so random plus the payment was always delayed. Cash money every night and a paycheck every other week, it works. So I've found some stability in employment and when mixed with a daily gym workout things should get back under control just in time for the crazy Fashion Week scheduling-LOVELY.
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