Five Lies Your Cocktail Waitress Tells You

Alasdair Middleton via Flickr

"Yes -- I'm kind of single. Another shot?"

​I confess, in another life, I moonlighted as a cocktail waitress. But after the fourth drunken grandpa lurched towards my nether regions, and I had to plant my stiletto squarely on his foot, I realized that giving the waitress a hard time if she wouldn't mess around with you was some sort of nationally-approved sport.

Although my cocktail waitressing career was mercifully short, I've compiled a list of the top five lies the ladies told by the ladies with the limes to make you really, really believe that a shot is worth $42.

5. I just sold Kim Kardashian the table next to yours. She's wasted, sad and alone.

OK, maybe not Kim Kardashian, but a cocktail waitress in a nightclub will use a pretty girl at another table as bait -- usually when you and your five broke male friends are realizing that there is a three-bottle minimum for parties bigger than four. Those bottles, you realize with horror, are not Red Stripes -- they're $375 Smirnoffs and your waitress needs to make the payment on her Cayenne. When you're thoroughly soused, the waitress might bring out the line, "the Playboy girls at table 39 asked me for your phone number-you ought to send them a Magnum." "Where is table 39?" It's to the left of Area 51, where you left your sanity, dignity and your $1,500 (apiece).
The "Well, duh" Moment: Has anyone ever been swooped up by a female celebrity simply because you could see them? Have you had success getting anything, even a tic tac, by staring at it?

4. They're shooting something for MTV here tonight.
MTV, for men of a certain age, still holds an element of adolescent cool. Being on MTV, then, for a 45-ish dude, is like being in the '80s again. And it's often deemed worth another round. When you finally get around to wondering, "Where is the crew?" (usually after a good hour and another bottle), your waitress may say,  "Oh my God, the city pulled the permits! The van got towed! The host had a freak-out! ... AND the male host got jealous of sexy guys and wouldn't shoot your table!"
The "Well, duh Moment: Have you EVER been on MTV? What are the chances that life has conspired to make you a star right now, the one time per year you have managed to save a few hundred bucks and been able to borrow a decent suit? And don't they MAKE their own regular Joe shows already? MTV knows celebrity -- and y'all ain't it.

3. The real hotties come in at 1am. Didn't you see Miss January go to the loo?
Just mentioning that "Miss (any month will do)" is in the club will extract the credit cards an cash from wallets as quickly as a .45 to the temple outside an ATM. That woman that your waitress is referring to may very well respond to "Miss", and it may indeed be, right then, January. But Hugh Hefner's mansion only has so many rooms -- not every boobalicious blonde is a Playmate.
The "Well, duh Moment: A woman who is an actual Playboy mademoiselle is not going to leave Hef's place to live with you and your four roommates in The Flamingo so she can do your laundry and share a pack of ramen noodles. But don't feel bad -- it probably isn't the fault of your personality.

2. I'm not married and I don't have a boyfriend.
You've just tipped her $740, and you are about to hand her an extra $100 because you are too drunk to read the receipt. Sure, you're welcome to imagine that she is not a 35-year-old married woman with three kids who is doing this because she makes a lot more than her accountant husband. You are welcome to ask her out, and she is welcome to smile, wink and suggest in a husky whisper to your ear that what would make her really, really happy is if you "shared" a bottle of champagne with her.
The "Well, duh" Moment: How hard was it for you to notice that she is hot, witty and.. well, hot? Now how hard would it be for someone cool -- I mean who doesn't have to pay $1500 to drink near a pretty girl -- to notice her? Who do you think got there first?

1.You're so different from the regular guys.
That will be followed by "I like you, I really do, but it's complicated. Let's talk next week." Once your bill is signed and that 6-foot-7 ex-commando bouncer is standing nearby, your waitress morphs into NYC subway clerk -- she wants your money and she needs you out of her station. She likes you, but she sort of has "a relationship", off and on, but he is a "bad man" and "not very smart."  Not like you, no no. She really did see the (bunnies, Kardashains, Katy Perry), but they (left because of a hysterical fan, passed out, ran from the paparazzi). The champagne was great, and she'd love to talk more but, she has to go, the manager (as if on cue) is glaring at her. Want to reserve a table next week?
The "Well, duh" Moment: You're not sexy, smart or cool. It's OK -- most of us in this country aren't. I can tell you the truth because you aren't waving a grand in front of me pleading silently for me to lie.You just dropped almost two grand to talk to a woman who thinks you're a pretentious idiot. If you really were that sexy and clever, you would't be in a club in the first place. Even her accountant husband knows that. Better luck next week!