It was the week that Lehman Brothers fell. Yet across town candles glowed, lights glittered and plasma screens hummed away in celebration. Like Sarah Palin, I crammed before my big encounter with the crumbling financial sector, I read every page of New York Magazine's "The Panic: Wall Street Had to Die in Order to Survive" before working my big event for Goldman Sachs at the New York Public Library. I absorbed snippets about "blue chips" and something about Wall Street's last bank standing. I figured tonight's event would be a semi-private circle jerk, and I was ready to record every arrogant, swaggering detail.
"It's been quite a week on Wall Street…" Governor Corzine of New Jersey intoned. The room burst into hearty laughter. Although the laughter was hearty, I couldn't really hear it. Oh no, the information was delivered second-hand, by a free floating caterwaiter not quarantined to the coat check. My dreams of uncovering financial secrets and tapping the pulse of the newly enfeebled Wall Street were shattered. I was working the coat check.
I learned three things at this exclusive event: Goldman Sach's is not on Wall Street, but located in Jersey City; the dusty coat check of the New York Public Library is nowhere near the gilded ballroom; investment bankers checking their coats during a week of utter turmoil in their business seemed humble but I may have been projecting.
There were four of us working coat check, because according to our Captain, "These are not the kind of people who want to wait in line!" My partners in crime for the evening were the three Latina women on staff. Evie a cool girl with shiny black hair and an urban sensibility, "you bitches better be done hanging hangers by the time I get back!" Yolanda, a mother from Belize wearing an Elsa Peretti necklace who called me "love" and "mad-uh-moiselle" instead of bitch, and Guadalupe "don't call me Lupe, call me "Susi" ok?" from Ecuador who was fighting off a terrible cold and had some serious hips.
"Um, I'm kinda new to coat check so why don't you just hand me the bags and I'll put them in order… not sure I want to be up in the front."
"Of course, mad-uh-moiselle, we all help each other out here…" assured Yolanda.
"Don't get all controlling now, girl" smirked Evie.
"Wish I brought a crystal bowl so these bastards knew to give us tips" lamented Susi.
Evie and I had already been passively aggressively reprimanded for loitering briefly in sight of a manager. We were feeling paranoid.
"What's the policy for tipping?"
"Just be discreet, and then we can split them up."
Susi grabbed a large box and wrote TIPS in huge letters and plunked it on the counter. Raquel snatched it and threw it in the back. Sesi found a smaller one and stashed it in a drawer where the tickets were, dumping a $5 and a $10 dollar bill of her own in the box.
"You know, so they give us big ones" she winked and then snapped into action.
"Just two bags, an umbrella, a coat and your running shoes tonight, Sir?"
Coat check. Investment bankers. A rain storm. A new challenge. Old leather, new leather, vinyl, plastic, matte, glossy, hard cases and soft. I organized and ticketed the usual items: briefcases, laptops, computers, suitcases and backpacks. (When did it become acceptable for men in suits to carry back packs?) Among these treasures were more unusual items.
"Can you check that for me?" A man handed me a crumpled newspaper.
"Would you mind?" a woman handed me her Blackberry.
Then we waited, sipping Pellegrino and fussing over my almost logical system of bags and tickets. During the downtime, Susi sat on a high backed chair and held court. I stayed alert attempting a gracious smile in case a manager snooped by with a boxy suit, earpiece and fake smile hissing through his teeth.
Susi intoned while blowing her nose, "You know, Aristotle Onassis never checked his coat. Uh uh, he never did."
We looked at her with interest.
"Everyone expected Aristotle Onassis to give a $100 tip for his coat, because he was so rich, so he never left his coat anywhere. Someone in a coat check probably made a joke about it to him and he never forgot it."
I felt empowered by my potentially life-changing role as a coat checker.
An attractive dark haired woman came to claim her coat. She was appreciative, but didn't reach for her wallet, although Susi had maneuvered the tip box within clear view. We rolled our eyes. She put on a white, fitting pea coat.
I nodded when she left. "Nice coat."
Susi shrugged, "Ann Taylor, last season."
A man approached, clutching his brand new Goldman Sachs baseball cap. As I bent down to pick up his bag I noticed Sesi with the drawer cocked open whistling and organizing a stack of dollar bills. She reached over to Yolanda, just under the nose of the man awaiting his briefcase.
"Here honey, I owe you this…" and handed her a wad of bills.
Yolanda took the money. Sesi fingered the tip box. The man stared at the stack of bills. I walked slowly to the counter, he dug sheepishly into his wallet, I dropped the bag and he dropped the green.
It worked! We died laughing.
"That one just came to me. I'll keep trying it… 'Here honey, I owe you this…'"
Shuffle, shuffle, count, count, straighten, neaten, wave the money, and capture the bills.
"God bless you, mister" was her finishing touch.
A jovial man approached with puffed red cheeks. I hopped off to find his 1U and 1B (one umbrella, one bag), and delayed a little to give Susi time to do her money hustle. I crouched over his backpack and eyed her. The tip drawer stayed firmly closed and Sesi's face went blank.
"Are you kidding, I could spot it a mile away that he wasn't going to tip. I worked in retail for twelve years, ok? That is a cheap bastard if I ever saw one."
And she was right. Two items fetched. No tip for us.
Young guy approaches. Rifles through his wallet.
"I don't mean to be ungracious but this is all I have. Thanks so much. You guys look tired." He passed up his $5 and gave us a dollar.
"Aw he's sweet, seems sincere" Evie commented, smiling after his little ass.
Although cute, I wasn't buying it. "He was fiddling with a $5 and a $1 and he could've asked for change… not sure I'm convinced."
Susi weighed in, "He gave us $1. $1 for guarding his $3 umbrella. Hello, he's sincere."
Touché.
A man proffering hats approached.
"Which one of you ladies would like a hat? I've got two…" He yanks out a white one with blue stitching that said "Studley" and another one that said "Battea."
"You should keep the one that says 'Studley'" I said, smiling graciously, with an open hospitable, non-cynical expression.
"Do any of you women speak Spanish?"
We all stared, especially Susi, Evie and Yolanda who all spoke Spanish.
"'Bettea' is a Spanish word… do any of you know what it means?"
Susi gave him a withering look. "That's not a Spanish word."
"Well, the consultants said it's an old Spanish word. It's the copper bowls that were used when panning for gold." A stroke of marketing genius, linguistically- enlivened terminology for ye olde robber barons!
Sesi sighed, "I work in the jewelry business for twelve years, sir, and I'm Spanish, I never heard of the word to refer to gold, copper or anything. Also, the word has two "t"s, so it's probably Italian. You never see one "t" in Spanish."
"Oh." He said deflated, shoving both hats back in his briefcase.
At the night's end, Susi and I lugged a bag of trash down 40th street (I prayed I wouldn't run into anyone) and headed for Grand Central terminal. In addition to my hours booked, we had scored $160 in semi-legal tips.
I commended Susi's hustling skills and suggested she and I open a casino together.
"Yup, I'm pretty good" She lit a cigarette and started swaggering toward the uptown train. "And I don't feel guilty girl, they're rich and we're in a financial crisis."
"It's been quite a week on Wall Street…" Governor Corzine of New Jersey intoned. The room burst into hearty laughter. Although the laughter was hearty, I couldn't really hear it. Oh no, the information was delivered second-hand, by a free floating caterwaiter not quarantined to the coat check. My dreams of uncovering financial secrets and tapping the pulse of the newly enfeebled Wall Street were shattered. I was working the coat check.
I learned three things at this exclusive event: Goldman Sach's is not on Wall Street, but located in Jersey City; the dusty coat check of the New York Public Library is nowhere near the gilded ballroom; investment bankers checking their coats during a week of utter turmoil in their business seemed humble but I may have been projecting.
There were four of us working coat check, because according to our Captain, "These are not the kind of people who want to wait in line!" My partners in crime for the evening were the three Latina women on staff. Evie a cool girl with shiny black hair and an urban sensibility, "you bitches better be done hanging hangers by the time I get back!" Yolanda, a mother from Belize wearing an Elsa Peretti necklace who called me "love" and "mad-uh-moiselle" instead of bitch, and Guadalupe "don't call me Lupe, call me "Susi" ok?" from Ecuador who was fighting off a terrible cold and had some serious hips.
"Um, I'm kinda new to coat check so why don't you just hand me the bags and I'll put them in order… not sure I want to be up in the front."
"Of course, mad-uh-moiselle, we all help each other out here…" assured Yolanda.
"Don't get all controlling now, girl" smirked Evie.
"Wish I brought a crystal bowl so these bastards knew to give us tips" lamented Susi.
Evie and I had already been passively aggressively reprimanded for loitering briefly in sight of a manager. We were feeling paranoid.
"What's the policy for tipping?"
"Just be discreet, and then we can split them up."
Susi grabbed a large box and wrote TIPS in huge letters and plunked it on the counter. Raquel snatched it and threw it in the back. Sesi found a smaller one and stashed it in a drawer where the tickets were, dumping a $5 and a $10 dollar bill of her own in the box.
"You know, so they give us big ones" she winked and then snapped into action.
"Just two bags, an umbrella, a coat and your running shoes tonight, Sir?"
Coat check. Investment bankers. A rain storm. A new challenge. Old leather, new leather, vinyl, plastic, matte, glossy, hard cases and soft. I organized and ticketed the usual items: briefcases, laptops, computers, suitcases and backpacks. (When did it become acceptable for men in suits to carry back packs?) Among these treasures were more unusual items.
"Can you check that for me?" A man handed me a crumpled newspaper.
"Would you mind?" a woman handed me her Blackberry.
Then we waited, sipping Pellegrino and fussing over my almost logical system of bags and tickets. During the downtime, Susi sat on a high backed chair and held court. I stayed alert attempting a gracious smile in case a manager snooped by with a boxy suit, earpiece and fake smile hissing through his teeth.
Susi intoned while blowing her nose, "You know, Aristotle Onassis never checked his coat. Uh uh, he never did."
We looked at her with interest.
"Everyone expected Aristotle Onassis to give a $100 tip for his coat, because he was so rich, so he never left his coat anywhere. Someone in a coat check probably made a joke about it to him and he never forgot it."
I felt empowered by my potentially life-changing role as a coat checker.
An attractive dark haired woman came to claim her coat. She was appreciative, but didn't reach for her wallet, although Susi had maneuvered the tip box within clear view. We rolled our eyes. She put on a white, fitting pea coat.
I nodded when she left. "Nice coat."
Susi shrugged, "Ann Taylor, last season."
A man approached, clutching his brand new Goldman Sachs baseball cap. As I bent down to pick up his bag I noticed Sesi with the drawer cocked open whistling and organizing a stack of dollar bills. She reached over to Yolanda, just under the nose of the man awaiting his briefcase.
"Here honey, I owe you this…" and handed her a wad of bills.
Yolanda took the money. Sesi fingered the tip box. The man stared at the stack of bills. I walked slowly to the counter, he dug sheepishly into his wallet, I dropped the bag and he dropped the green.
It worked! We died laughing.
"That one just came to me. I'll keep trying it… 'Here honey, I owe you this…'"
Shuffle, shuffle, count, count, straighten, neaten, wave the money, and capture the bills.
"God bless you, mister" was her finishing touch.
A jovial man approached with puffed red cheeks. I hopped off to find his 1U and 1B (one umbrella, one bag), and delayed a little to give Susi time to do her money hustle. I crouched over his backpack and eyed her. The tip drawer stayed firmly closed and Sesi's face went blank.
"Are you kidding, I could spot it a mile away that he wasn't going to tip. I worked in retail for twelve years, ok? That is a cheap bastard if I ever saw one."
And she was right. Two items fetched. No tip for us.
Young guy approaches. Rifles through his wallet.
"I don't mean to be ungracious but this is all I have. Thanks so much. You guys look tired." He passed up his $5 and gave us a dollar.
"Aw he's sweet, seems sincere" Evie commented, smiling after his little ass.
Although cute, I wasn't buying it. "He was fiddling with a $5 and a $1 and he could've asked for change… not sure I'm convinced."
Susi weighed in, "He gave us $1. $1 for guarding his $3 umbrella. Hello, he's sincere."
Touché.
A man proffering hats approached.
"Which one of you ladies would like a hat? I've got two…" He yanks out a white one with blue stitching that said "Studley" and another one that said "Battea."
"You should keep the one that says 'Studley'" I said, smiling graciously, with an open hospitable, non-cynical expression.
"Do any of you women speak Spanish?"
We all stared, especially Susi, Evie and Yolanda who all spoke Spanish.
"'Bettea' is a Spanish word… do any of you know what it means?"
Susi gave him a withering look. "That's not a Spanish word."
"Well, the consultants said it's an old Spanish word. It's the copper bowls that were used when panning for gold." A stroke of marketing genius, linguistically- enlivened terminology for ye olde robber barons!
Sesi sighed, "I work in the jewelry business for twelve years, sir, and I'm Spanish, I never heard of the word to refer to gold, copper or anything. Also, the word has two "t"s, so it's probably Italian. You never see one "t" in Spanish."
"Oh." He said deflated, shoving both hats back in his briefcase.
At the night's end, Susi and I lugged a bag of trash down 40th street (I prayed I wouldn't run into anyone) and headed for Grand Central terminal. In addition to my hours booked, we had scored $160 in semi-legal tips.
I commended Susi's hustling skills and suggested she and I open a casino together.
"Yup, I'm pretty good" She lit a cigarette and started swaggering toward the uptown train. "And I don't feel guilty girl, they're rich and we're in a financial crisis."
© Caterwaiter-NYC
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