Waking Up in a Strange Englishman’s Bed – and Other Sides of My New Job

Posted by Tilia

So, yay, I got a job!  And, no, I’m not a hooker.

Naturally, it’s not the film-business-entry-level-perfection I’d hoped for, but it’s turning out to be way more relevant than I forsaw.  I’m bartending at an Irish-owned bar/pub in North London, in a trendy district known for its bohemian community.

As such, the owner of the bar has given me reign to organize and execute film-related events, like mini-festivals and group screenings at the bar.  I get to keep all the cover money, and I get a cut of bar intake, plus my hourly wage, which isn’t bad, not bad at all.  

So, somehow, getting hired as a barmaid has put me in a position to learn about my chosen industry.  Crazy.

All that aside, which looks great on paper, my boss is a bit of a loony, very rural Irish, loves her booze, over-shares her personal life, and one time, offered me cocaine.  It’s going to be a trial to separate myself from the personal connotations to working in such a close knit environment, but I’ve only been there for three days, so I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.

We close late, especially by London standards, and generally aren’t finished clearing up behind the bar until around 2:30am.  Then, it’s expected to stick around and drink with Molly, my lady guv, her friend Christian, also Irish, who owns the pub next door, and a small assortment of regulars and hangers on whom Molly has deemed worthy of staying after doors close.

On Thursday night, my second night on the job, I decided to stick around for only an hour or two, since I hadn’t gotten home until after 6am my first night, and was sipping coke that was I was pretending was vodka and coke with Molly, Christian, and two local boho activists who run a localized serial publication.  One was a young Irish poet, with pretension out his ears, and the other this quiet, English publisher who was actually pretty hot in a Viggo Mortensen kinda way.

Anyway, soon after we’d settled in with our respective drinks, Christian’s barman, whose name I think was Sam(?), showed up with some food, which is really why I was still there, so I stuck around to eat, and argue with the pretentious Irish poet guy, who was obviously trying to impress me by attempting to intellectually outdo me, about how the film industry has become “artifice over art.”  What a tool.  

Sam(?), Christian’s barman, was also clearly attracted to me, but was much more tactical and English about it.  He’s tall, and has long, blonde, curly hair, and very angular features.  He’s not unattractive; he’s just not my type at all.  Not someone I’d ever go for or dream of fondly during solo-activities.  But, I kind of flirted back just because regardless of physically not being my type in the least, and honestly only minimally impressing me personality-wise, he was somehow sort of sexy.  I don’t know what it was.  I still don’t know.

My phone alarm went off at 4am, and they wanted to know what that was all about.  I told them I was expecting to be home, and it was to wake me up so I could watch Obama speak at the convention.  Suddenly, here came this tirade of angry judgement about how Obama has no policies, how he’s a patsy being set up to be assassinated for martyrdom, because he’s black, etc. etc. etc.

Really some of the most absurd shit I’ve ever heard.

Most of it was my drunken manager and the “poet,” yelling things they don’t really understand at me, attempting to educate me, because, being an American of course doesn’t give me any perspective on the American political system, and what they’ve heard on TV is much more accurate.  I attempted to participate in the conversation, but it was clearly an attack in which my input was both unwelcome and futile, so I decided to excuse myself.

Christian and Sam(?), both of whom had been defending me and trying to get us off the topic also took their leave at this point in time.  The publisher, heretofore no longer attractive, said, softly, to me, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, and continued out.

“You don’t,” he insisted, and Christian told him to let it go, which then almost resulted in a brawl.  Disgusted, I continued toward the door with Molly apologizing to me, saying it wasn’t a personal attack, etc. 

Once I got outside, Christian and Sam(?) invited me back to their pub for some wind-down time and a free pint.  Considering I was on the verge of tears, I thought it might be a good idea to take them up on it.  We sat and listened to Christian do Monty Python impersonations for half an hour or so, to cheer me up, and then Christian offered to get me a cab.

I declined, ever missing my car and the ability to just leave.  There’s a night bus that takes me very close to home, so I wanted to just go catch my bus and not be a trouble to anyone.  Finally, Christian relented on the condition that Sam(?) walk me to my bus stop and stick around until I got on.  I was more than happy to agree to this, since waiting for a night bus is pretty unpleasant if you’re alone.

Sam(?) and I walked to a bus stop a bit farther away than the one I usually go to, and sat to talk.  An hour went by, and I learned that Sam(?)’s Girlfriend (The girlfriend revelation was made by Christian, and clearly wasn’t something Sam(?) was planning to reveal) is 30, and he’s 24.  He once worked in a gay bar, and also spent a year teaching drama at a boarding school.

The bus still hadn’t shown up, which was very odd.  Both of us were losing steam quickly, having been on our feet all night, then drinking, then in a political argument.  He suggested maybe just crashing at his place for a few hours and catching a regular bus once they were back on the rota again.  He said he’d take the couch; it wasn’t a big deal.

I declined about eight times, and we’d almost hit the hour and a half mark when I realized that maybe it was the best option for me.  

We jumped the fence at a nearby park to cut through, and continued talking as the sun rose, we jumped another fence, and then ended up at his flat.  

Sensing my discomfort, he offered to put on a season of Extras for me to watch if I just wanted to wait until around 6 to catch a morning bus.  He put it in and, curled into a ball on the corner of his bed, I fell asleep fairly quickly.  He fell asleep similarly, curled into the opposite corner.

Several hours later, I have vague memory of being nudged into normal sleeping position, under the covers, then him taking off his shirt.  Spooning commenced a few hours later, and was pretty inappropriate, all things considered.  Maybe it was just waking up next to a male body in a bed, but I wasn’t really thinking logistics, and instead was just cuddled up with the topless form of a man I’m not even really attracted to, whose name I don’t actually know, and who had his arm possessively thrown over my waist.

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but that wasn’t going to happen, just because I was awake enough to remember the girlfriend, the fact that he’s not my type, and that I’d probably have to see him lots in the future, considering the working relationship and proximity of our two bosses.

The inappropriate cuddling and topless nature of his garb maintained through two more episodes of Extras and a cup of tea.  I got calls from Tim (I’ve never been so happy to hear Tim’s voice.  He’s seriously the only English man I’ve met so far that I trust completely, and would believe capable of monogamy), and Jane (who really doesn’t approve of this tale at all).

Reaching my usual level of lucidity, I strapped on my shoes and made my exit, after the awkward comment he made that was something like, “We’re doing a lot of hugging for people who only met yesterday.”  

“Yeah, I need to go.”

He gave me a hug at the entrance to the park I ended up cutting back through, but I didn’t even give him a second glance.  How effing awkward, really.  I would be completely okay never seeing Sam(?) again, though there are no extreme feelings about the situation either way.

Just the hint of the bizarre when I remember the thing as it was, and the sincere hope that it never gets back to anyone who knows both of us, or that he ever expects anything similar to happen again.

I guess in the end, as long as it’s a good story, it was a worthwhile experience.

~ by Shannon on August 30, 2008.