So it began. The most humiliating night of my life. I was catering-bartending at the Penn Law Graduation. I put on my cheap tuxedo. It is hard to describe how scratchy the thin wool was. Thin and black and itchy as all hell, the staffing company I worked for required me to buy it from them. 25$ for the black tuxedo vest. 20 bucks for the white pleated tuxedo shirt. 5 dollars for the black cummerbund. 15 for the pants. 65 dollars total, to be paid, to Best Personal Staffing LLC, for the pleasure of serving about 150 law students, their girlfriends, boyfriends, and immediate family members. For fourteen dollars an hour, plus tips if they chose to do so. It was on the fifth floor of the American Jewish History Museum in Philadelphia. The Ballroom Floor. We filled our Lexan tubs full of ice and covered our white fold-out plastic tables with black table-clothes. Behind up we set up an additional table, displaying our wide selection of liquor, and we put up a beer display in front of us, trying to show all the graduates we and their families what we had to offer. Lemon Juice. Lime Juice. Simple Syrup. Angostura Bitters. Sweet and Dry Vermouth. We we fairly ready, as far as catering bartenders could be. The curious part was how we were warned. >Last year this Graduation party got pretty out of hand. Don't give out too many shots. The Irony is that they gave us no bottled water to give to the students. But for some fucking reason they gave us 12 cases of red bull. Is that a good way to keep recent law graduates from arguing? It was light, still, and while we were setting up, and organizer of the event decided to talk to us. >Just so you guys know, no shots to anyone, unless it is us, She laughed, and the man with her laughed too. They both asked for Old Fashioned's so we made them, and served them, smiling all the while. Then the first snickering trio of Law Graduates walked up to us. Twenty-seven at most, they seemed like the type of boys who were quite proud of themselves. >Can we have three of the most alcoholic drinks you can serve us I laughed silently. All of my alcohol is 40% ABV, There is no magical way I could mix this liquor to cause it to be more than 40% ABV, yet these educated people think that I have the alchemy to transfigure these properties through criminal necromancy. >How about a Long Island Iced Tea? I suggest. They all agree. One of them tips me a dollar. People start to flow in. The Asians are always first to a graduation party. Some Chinese parents, the ones who are rich enough to send their children to Penn Law, but not disciplined enough to not drink walk towards me. >Most delicious alcohol, please! They don't always speak so good, but I know exactly what they mean. When they say delicious, what they actually mean is sweet. So I mix some rum with pineapple juice, orange juice, and grenadine. I layer it, I know Asians have a hard on for presentation. They love it and cheer and don't tip me. Actual students start to wander in. A girl from the south who already seems drunk walks up to me. She is chatty and seems like she wants me to like her. >Heyyyy, how are you doing? What is your name? >My name is Theo. >I am going to be here all night, I would love to talk to you more, just make me a cosmo and I will be back alll night long! I make he a cosmo. I don't see her for the rest of the night, and she doesn't tip. The volume starts to pick up. I can no longer think. I can only act. Drinks start to be shaken. Beers are cracked. Persecco is popped and poured. And all the while, these law graduates are all around me. Penn Law students. Jews and the Chinese and Indians and WASPS are all demanding beverages from me, while the dance floor comes alive in absolute fucking horror. Have you ever felt that you were a failure? Have you ever known you were a failure? Have you ever served a 63 year old Indian Grandmother a Scotch and Soda while watching 150 recent law graduates in suits and dresses spasmodically dance? They are wearing suits and they all look great and they all have their entire career's ahead of them. And the song they are dancing to is Soulja Boy. They do the Soulja Boy Dance. They pretend like it is serious, but they are joking. But they are serious about having a good time. Because they worked harder than you. And now they play harder than you. And you are serving them cocktails and you can't blame anyone but yourself.st humiliating night of my life. I was catering-bartending at the Penn Law Graduation. I put on my cheap tuxedo. It is hard to describe how scratchy the thin wool was. Thin and black and itchy as all hell, the staffing company I worked for required me to buy it from them. 25$ for the black tuxedo vest. 20 bucks for the white pleated tuxedo shirt. 5 dollars for the black cummerbund. 15 for the pants. 65 dollars total, to be paid, to Best Personal Staffing LLC, for the pleasure of serving about 150 law students, their girlfriends, boyfriends, and immediate family members. For fourteen dollars an hour, plus tips if they chose to do so. It was on the fifth floor of the American Jewish History Museum in Philadelphia. The Ballroom Floor. We filled our Lexan tubs full of ice and covered our white fold-out plastic tables with black table-clothes. Behind up we set up an additional table, displaying our wide selection of liquor, and we put up a beer display in front of us, trying to show all the graduates we and their families what we had to offer. Lemon Juice. Lime Juice. Simple Syrup. Angostura Bitters. Sweet and Dry Vermouth. We we fairly ready, as far as catering bartenders could be. The curious part was how we were warned. >Last year this Graduation party got pretty out of hand. Don't give out too many shots. The Irony is that they gave us no bottled water to give to the students. But for some fucking reason they gave us 12 cases of red bull. Is that a good way to keep recent law graduates from arguing? It was light, still, and while we were setting up, and organizer of the event decided to talk to us. >Just so you guys know, no shots to anyone, unless it is us, She laughed, and the man with her laughed too. They both asked for Old Fashioned's so we made them, and served them, smiling all the while. Then the first snickering trio of Law Graduates walked up to us. Twenty-seven at most, they seemed like the type of boys who were quite proud of themselves. >Can we have three of the most alcoholic drinks you can serve us I laughed silently. All of my alcohol is 40% ABV, There is no magical way I could mix this liquor to cause it to be more than 40% ABV, yet these educated people think that I have the alchemy to transfigure these properties through criminal necromancy. >How about a Long Island Iced Tea? I suggest. They all agree. One of them tips me a dollar. People start to flow in. The Asians are always first to a graduation party. Some Chinese parents, the ones who are rich enough to send their children to Penn Law, but not disciplined enough to not drink walk towards me. >Most delicious alcohol, please! They don't always speak so good, but I know exactly what they mean. When they say delicious, what they actually mean is sweet. So I mix some rum with pineapple juice, orange juice, and grenadine. I layer it, I know Asians have a hard on for presentation. They love it and cheer and don't tip me. Actual students start to wander in. A girl from the south who already seems drunk walks up to me. She is chatty and seems like she wants me to like her. >Heyyyy, how are you doing? What is your name? >My name is Theo. >I am going to be here all night, I would love to talk to you more, just make me a cosmo and I will be back alll night long! I make he a cosmo. I don't see her for the rest of the night, and she doesn't tip. The volume starts to pick up. I can no longer think. I can only act. Drinks start to be shaken. Beers are cracked. Persecco is popped and poured. And all the while, these law graduates are all around me. Penn Law students. Jews and the Chinese and Indians and WASPS are all demanding beverages from me, while the dance floor comes alive in absolute fucking horror. Have you ever felt that you were a failure? Have you ever known you were a failure? Have you ever served a 63 year old Indian Grandmother a Scotch and Soda while watching 150 recent law graduates in suits and dresses spasmodically dance? They are wearing suits and they all look great and they all have their entire career's ahead of them. And the song they are dancing to is Soulja Boy. They do the Soulja Boy Dance. They pretend like it is serious, but they are joking. But they are serious about having a good time. Because they worked harder than you. And now they play harder than you. And you are serving them cocktails and you can't blame anyone but yourself.