Pretty In Pink (Part I & II)

Part I: Pretty In Pink

This past Tuesday, the Summit held an exclusive event for the National Breast Cancer Foundation. I love when we close the restaurant to the public and hold private functions because a) I get paid to do nothing (literally) and b) I get free things (my favorite)! This event was no exception. Again, I was in charge of transporting the guests from the bottom of the building all the way up to the 47th floor to the restaurant where the event was taking place. Elevator access to the restaurant had been deactivated to avoid unwanted customers from crashing the party. Thus I was given a key card that activated the elevator's ability to reach floor 47. If I didn't scan guests up, then everyone would be stranded on the ground floor unable to eat and drink themselves content while raising loads of money to fight breast cancer. This was an important role, no doubt, but one that became quite boring and dull once all the guests had successfully reached the summit (no pun intended. Who am I kidding? yes it was). However, it was pivotal that I remained on the ground floor in case any stragglers arrived late and needed to get to up to the event. Or, as was more often the case, if guests up on the 47th floor came down to go outside and have a smoke (I know this wasn't a National Lung Cancer Foundation event, but you would think people would be a bit self-conscious about smoking at an anti-cancer even, regardless of the type. Nope, I guess not.) and then needed to return upstairs. 

Thus, from 6:00pm until 9:30pm I stood like a statue on the ground floor staring at the six elevators in front of me. And while the time crawled by slower than a snail, I didn't mind because I reminded myself that I was currently getting paid to do absolutely nothing while the rest of the Summit crew was working fervently to cater the 300 guests that were dining up top.  My only company was the security guard at the front desk who wasn't big on making small chat, and so I stood and stared and stood and stared. And just when I thought I couldn't stand and stare anymore, I thought about the London Guards who stand motionless for hours on end without moving, yawning, smiling or practically breathing. If they can do it for their entire lives, I told myself, then I certainly can survive just standing here for a few measly hours. And so I continued to stand and stare until I was finally retrieved from my stand-and-stare elevator duties and brought up to the restaurant to resume my elevator escorting duties upstairs (someone had to help the guests get back down to the ground floor and, no surprises here, that someone was me). 

When I arrived to the top floor, a group called Scarlett Belle was performing for the guests. Scarlett Belle (according to Wikipedia) is a an Australian pop and R&B duo, comprised of two gorgeous gals who have a decent set of pipes. I had never before seen or heard of them, but neither had some of the Australians surrounding me. Thus I concluded that they were only somewhat famous in Australia. Regardless, it was cool to see an Aussie group perform live. These gals looked good. They sounded good. But the actual songs that they sang, in my opinion, were not so good.  Mostly they sang cover songs of popular US hits, like California Girls. For some reason I am doubtful that the National Breast Cancer Foundation event attendants, the majority of whom were over the age of 60, cared to listen to a Katie Perry cover song. But there is no doubt in my mind that they did not, I repeat, did NOT want to hear Freak Tonight blasting through the speakers live. Loud and clear, Scarlett Belle began to sing (or shout): "I wanna be a freak tonight. I can do you like that, that, that, that, that. Or I can do you like that, that, that, that, that. Let me hear you say oh, oh, oh....". Yes. And that is the condensed, PG version people. If I had been eating or drinking at the moment they began singing, I am positive my food would have ended up in the lap of the person sitting across from me. I couldn't believe it that they thought it was both tasteful and appropriate to sing about their freaky tendencies at a formal event. I later learned that this is their one single hit (and by hit  I mean it made it in the Australia top 40 chart), so I understand why they felt obliged to sing it.  And I'm glad no one advised them otherwise, because it made for an extremely uncomfortable and therefore highly amusing four minutes (although it felt much longer). 

Don't think I have forgotten the part B of why I love hosting events- the freebies! One of the sponsors of the event was Estee Lauder and at the end of the night, once all the guests had departed and the restaurant had been restored to normal, each of the ladies working the event was given an Estee Lauder Sensuous perfume gift box. The gift self, worth $130, included perfume and body lotion. I never ever purchase these things because I think it is outrageous to pay that much for a tube of body lotion and smelly spray, but you know I was thrilled to receive one for free! And so now I will be smelling pretty in the land down under. Let's hear it for fighting breast cancer AND smelling good while doing it! 

Part II: Pretty (Humiliating) In Pink

Yesterday, I had my first (and hopefully last) disaster moment at Summit. I was working lunch as the hostess. First, before I get to the I'm-going-to-get-fired moment (I did think those words) I would just like to say that there is a reason I am the hostess and not a waitress: because I have good social skills, but unreliable and unpredictable coordination skills. My family can attest to this. Laura (hi Laura!) will tell you, while laughing at my expense, how not one family meal goes by without a part of the meal ending up on my lap or clothing (I inherited this from my father. Hi Dad!) And my mom (hi Mom!) always said, "Sarah, you amaze me. How is it that you can tumble across a four inch beam but you can't manage to walk across the room without hurting yourself?" And it's true. I have great coordination with complicated tasks, but when it comes to the simple things, like bringing a fork to my mouth or walking one foot in front of the other, I manage to mess it up. The most stressful and challenging part of my mornings is when I have to transport my full cup of coffee from the kitchen downstairs to my bedroom on the third floor. If I can make it with half the cup still full and no coffee dripping down my arm then I did a good job. And this is why I am the hostess. I am confident in my ability to smile and communicate with guests, not in my ability to transport and serve their food and beverages in the manner expected  at a fine-dining establishment. 

Now back to yesterday. Tim, my manager, asked if I could help run drinks to tables because they didn't have a beverage runner (the person whose sole job it is to bring drinks from the bar to the tables) and the bar tenders were too swamped to do it themselves. And since I was just standing pretty not really doing anything Tim asked for my assistance. No problem. I delivered some beers and coffees successfully to the first few tables. Few. I wiped the sweat from my brow, relieved that was over, and returned to my hostess post. 

Then Ryan, the barman, asked if I could bring two pink lemonades to these adorable little girls having lunch with their family of eight. Sure! My confidence was building after my previous, disaster-free beverage transports. And so I took the tray with the pink lemonades to deliver them. Side note: when I say pink lemonade, I mean PINK lemonade. Like borderline hot pink in color. These weren't some Minute Maid pink lemonades. I'm not sure what the barmen at the Summit Restaurant do to make pink lemonades, but they must add some form of coloring because they were the pinkest drink I have ever seen. Moving on. I approach the two girls (they were sitting side-by-side) and go to place the first pink lemonade when the next thing I know a sea of pink lemonade is rushing down the side of the young girl. Oh yes. You knew this was coming. But I hope you're face is still cringing to read the words, because I truly saw my life flash before my eyes. I don't know what happened. All I can assume is that my bosoms hit the second glass of pink lemonade that was still on the tray in my left hand while my right hand reached with the other glass to place it down. Regardless, their was a massive spill of hot pink lemonade all over this precious little girl. After standing in shock for a moment, accepting that yes this really just happened, I rushed to frantically clean up the mess, apologizing like a broken record to the little girl and her family. Thankfully two of the waiters came over to assist me in cleaning up my mess. And even more thankfully Robert, the waiter of the table I had just soaked, was not mad at me. "It's ok," he said. "Accidents happen. Everyone has done it before." But then I look and the little girl is hysterically crying in her father's arms. So I run over to console her and apologize like a mad woman to her. "I am SO sorry hunnie! Are you ok?" Most fortunately, her family was the nicest group of people and they were completely cool and understanding about it. They told me not to worry and were able to calm the girl down and resume their lunch with smiles and laughter and good cheer. 

I, on the other hand, retrieved back to my hostess stand mortified. I apologized repeatedly to Robert and Ryan. I felt so humiliated and stupid. "This is why I am the hostess," I said. They just laughed and assured me it was ok and that they had both done it before. Of course, they didn't let me off the hook that easily. For the remainder of the afternoon and on into the evening, all the waiters made fun of me for my mess-up. Vinny (a waiter) thought it was hilarious that I made the little girl cry. "Oh my gosh, Sarah," he said in between breaths while laughing, "you made that little girl cry! I can't get over it. Spills happen all the time, but I have never seen anyone cry!" Then Patrick (a waiter) came over shaking his head. "Sarah, from now on I'm going to call you Pink Lady." And in the evening when I had to pour water for a customer, Vinny swooped by laughing and said, "Keep it in their glass and not on their lap." Talk about embarrassment. I guess we all need to feel completely and totally humiliated every once in a while. It is a good character builder. I just hope that a) I never spill on a customer again, b) I never make a little girl cry (how mean am I?!) and c) that tonight at work everyone has forgotten about my pink-lemonade mishap and the jokes and comments cease. Man, oh, man. 

Yoga Please, Hold The Scams

A few weeks back I was walking home from Darling Harbor (a Sydney destination for leisure and entertainment with more than 40 restaurants, 30 bars, museums, theaters, etc.) and passed the gym V Club (sounds like an erotic dance lounge, not a gym-I know) which was advertising: "10 Visits for $20!".  This caught my attention because I have been looking for affordable ways to stay active. When I got home I looked on the V Club website and was delighted to see that they offered an array of dance and exercise classes, including hip hop, pilates, yoga, cycling and kick boxing. Normally, just one of these classes costs $20 so I couldn't believe that there was a possibility that I could attend 10 classes for $20.00, or just $2.00 per class. This seemed too good to be true.

Well, my suspicions were correct: it was unbelievable and too good to be true because it wasn't true. It was a rip-off and a scam to get me into the door and become a member who pays far too much to run stationary on a machine when I can do the same for free outside with a far better view. The offer expired on September 30th, so on Monday morning I entered the club and told the receptionist that I wanted to inquire about the 10-for-20 deal. She told me to take a seat and fill out a form while she went to get someone to talk to me. For those of you who are registered members at the gym, you know which forms I'm talking about- the ones that ask how often you exercise, how happy you are with your body, what your goals are, etc. I strongly dislike those forms, mainly because it means once completed the gym-sales guy will awkwardly attempt to discuss your answers with you. I didn't ask for a health and wellness assessment, I just asked about the 10-for-20 deal. Regardless, I filled out the form. A few minutes later Jim the sales guy (since I was at a gym, I will call the sales-man Jim) plopped down next to me and asked what brought me to the V Club that day. I explained that I had walked by and seen the "10 Visits for $20" advertisement in their window and wanted to learn more about that. So of course he proceeds to ignore my inquiry and begin interrogating me about the answers on my sheet, making small, unwelcome chit chat along the way. "Where are you from? How long are you here for? How do you like it? How often do you currently exercise? How many days a week will you be coming to the V Club? What do you do for work?" Blah blah blah. So irritating. I didn't come in to the club to become a permanent member nor to make friends, I just want someone to explain what the 10 visits for $20 actually means! Is that too much to ask?

So when Jim stood to take me on the tour of the V Club, I shook my head fiercely side to side and remained seated. "I don't need to see the gym," I said. "I just want to know about the 10 visit for $20. Can you please tell me about this?" He was slightly taken aback that I had interrupted his sales-pitch, and mumbled that he would go get the price sheet for me. When he put it down in front of me it took a whole 5 seconds for me to say "No thank you" and walk out the door. You had to use the 10 visits within 14 days and could only come between 9-11 am and 3-4pm; there were no exercise classes offered at these times. I actually laughed out loud when he told me this. "There is absolutely no way that I will be coming here 10 times in the next 14 days, especially if I can't take any classes. It's not worth it for me. (That part I said) Thank you for wasting my time. If you had just explained that to me at the beginning you could have saved both you and I from the agony of sitting through that phony banter and bull $h!@. Goodbye." (That part I didn't say but was certainly thinking). I rushed out the door, irked by the deceptive marketing employed by V Club.

Then, later that day on my way to work, I passed by LuLuLemon which is a yoga and athletic apparel store (there are some in the US). Outside the store was a sign inviting the public to come to the store for a yoga class on Wednesday morning. Again, my interest was piqued, but I was weary of misleading claims thanks to my experience with the V Club. Still, I entered the store and asked an employee if I needed to sign-up for the class and how much is cost (nothing these days is free, right?). "You don't need to sign up," she said. "And it's free. Our gift to you. Just show up tomorrow morning 10-15 minutes before class and grab a mat." I think my eyes actually bulged out of my head. This was too good to be true. But fortunately for me it wasn't!  I woke up bright and early on Wednesday morning (6:30am to be exact) and headed over to Lulu where dozens of colorful yoga mats lined the store floor waiting for eager participants. I hopped onto a mat, but still with suspicions. How good could a free yoga class actually be? The answer, I am pleased to report, is GREAT! It was one of the best yoga classes I have ever taken. Not only was it an hour-long, but the instructor was excellent. I am ecstatic. Lululemon has restored my faith in front-of-store advertising and exercise establishments. From now on I will be attending their free yoga class at 7:15 am each Wednesday of the week. I guess the best things in life really are free!

Your Daily Dose of Laughter 4

Who needs actual prawn cocktails when you can just have prawn cocktail potato chips?! 

First off, I don't even want to imagine what these things tastes like. Second, I thoroughly enjoy how the pink bag resembles an actual prawn (aka- shrimp in America). And third, "Walkers" logo seems awfully similar logo design to Lays Potato chips...coincidence? I think not.  

I'm Coming UP, I Want The World To Know...

Lodging update: I have moved upstairs; no more bunk bed for me! I am very excited about this. I came upstairs and want you and the world to know that I am now residing on the top (third) floor of the share house I have been living in. Before (as you may recall) I was on the top bunk in a room with three other people and a rinky-dink closet. Now, for only $20 more per week, I have my very own twin bed in a room with an actual closet, mirror, television, lamp, bulletin board, drawers, rug and air conditioner and one one other roomie. What a deal, huh? (Either that, or I was really getting ripped-off before). This is definitely the best room in the house and I got lucky to be in it. 

But my ending up in this room also stirred up a little drama in the house, which I never intended. See, Stephan had been living in my now-room with Norman, my now-roommate. It was a known fact around the house that he was scheduled to return to Europe in the end of September and that his bed would be up for grabs among others in the house. And Stephan wasn't the only house mate leaving; five others were also departing from the house around the same time. Knowing this, I told my landlord Christine that I would like to move out of the bunk bed room and into another when one of these bed became available. She said of course. At the same time, Norman had told Christine that he wanted to be able to pick someone from the house to move into the room with him when Stephan left. She said "of course" to him too. I simply told Norm that I wanted to move out of the bunk bed room and that if he would have me I would be happy to move up with him if no one else wanted to. I was well aware that others had been in the house longer than I had and that they might want to move into the king suit. Time passed, and then Norman called me one day to tell me that he had talked to Christine and told her I was moving up with him. Apparently, the Italians weren't too happy about this and expressed their displeasure with Christine. They had been in the house much longer than I, and believed the room was rightly theirs. Understandable. I for one didn't care which bed I had, as long as it wasn't the one I had been sleeping on for the past 4 weeks. I told Norm they could take it, but he insisted that it was mine. At no point had they said a single word to either him or Christine about taking Steph's bed after he left; I did. And so here I am, lounging on my new bed in my new room in complete peace and quiet. I do understand the Italian's frustration, however, and I hope that dynamics in the house don't change as a result of this. 

Speaking of changing dynamics, the other three females who were living in this house moved out leaving me as the sole female of the pad. I am the Queen Bee! And as Queen Bee I am entitled to the best room in the house, right? I always wanted to have brothers and now I have six. 

My New Room & Bed: 

 Next step: get some wall decorations!

Not sure if the TV actually works...I think only if you connect it to a DVD player. 

The stairs I have to walk up to get to my room. They are pretty steep and would make for quite a painful fall. Let's hope I can avoid that disaster. 

Your Daily Dose of Laughter 3

I was walking through an arcade the other day (an arcade, btw, is what Australians call a "shopping mall." I was not playing video games) and saw a "global" candy store that had goodies from around the world. Since I don't just have a sweet tooth but rather an entire mouth full of sweet teeth, I of course entered. You can imagine my laughter, confusion and delight when I approached the "US Candy" section and saw what you see above: Heinz Sweet Relish and Crisco. Hilarious. And also slightly concerning. I hope foreigners who are unfamiliar with US products don't take a spoon to a can of Crisco. I can just see it: they eagerly go home to eat this bizarre US version of ice cream and a topping, and they end up with a mouth full of sweet-relish covered Crisco. Hey, if there is a shortage of chocolate candy bars this Halloween you now have a new candy alternative to give the youngsters...at least according to Australia.