I worked at a fancy-pants restaurant on the Upper West Side that paid a lot of money, but I hated the job. I lied on my resume and told them I had lots of wine experience and worked at a bunch of fancy restaurants. And when they called my references, they actually called my friends who acted as my references for me. The night before I started, I went to Trader Joe’s and bought a bunch of Two-Buck Chuck and my friend helped me practice opening bottles. At one point, it was like, when you’re teaching a romantic partner how to golf. He was behind me, showing me how to open them.
On the first night, I accidentally wrote the special down wrong, and one of the servers said, “The chef wants to see you in the kitchen.” The chef screamed at me in Portuguese, picked up the special he had made, and threw it against the wall. Then I had to clean it up. On the second night, I accidentally broke off the cork into a $450 bottle of wine, and I got screamed at some more. It was terrible.