Alcoholic Stories #3: Adventures of a Drunk Security Guard

Welcome to this series of poorly written alcoholic stories, exclusive for Steemit.

Disclaimer: This story does not pick off directly where the last one left off. I've decided to embrace my inner writer and write while I feel like it. I don't want to force this into a time-line as I might lose the better memories I might have at the moment. For those who are curious this is about 2,5 years apart from the last one. I had dropped out of my third high school by that time.
Previous part: Alcoholic Stories #2: New school, new house, new drinking buddy
My introduction: Some controversal, weird experiences behind this mind

"Fuck school" is the only thing I could think off for the past few weeks, months or even years. I can't live at my parents apartment any longer. I need to move out instantly, but I need to be able to pay the rent, buy food etc. I need a job. I'm 19, no previous work experience, unfinished high school - things are not looking good for me. Around here, Eastern Europe, the law doesn't require entry-level security officers to have an education, the only requirements were to speak the native language and have a clean past, no criminal record. Literally nothing else. So I applied into few companies and eventually one of them took me to a "job interview".

Source: Google under license to use for commercial use

How a job interview shouldn't look like

I arrive to right address, being nervous as hell. I'm a stocky guy, but I'm no athlete and standing at only 5'9 plus been on an extremely tight budget for past... forever, so I don't look like a guy who could become a law enforcer just based on looks. So I enter the building, secretary asks to hold on for a moment till she asks chief to come down. Chief comes, invites me into his office and tells me to sit down..

Chief: "Alright, you're modernbukowski, eh? Good, good.."
Me: "Yes."
Chief: "Okay, you speak the native language?"
Me: "Yes."
Chief: "Sign this document"
I'm reading through the contract and signing it
Chief: "Alright be at the warehouse at Pineapple St 923 in 2 hours, pleasure meeting, bye."

And so I left. I was baffled. Stunned, really. What just happened? Did I just get a job? Awesome. I head to the warehouse, pick up my uniform that's 2 sizes too large for me, because the warehouse keeper simply didn't give a damn. But I felt good, I had a job, an uniform and soon got a call from my new boss about where I had to be.

The security company has also a discounted dorm for it's workers which works perfectly for me. I move in instantly and go meet my first object. It's in the bad side of the town, but I'm not bothered by that, I'm from another quite bad part of the town, except that I didn't speak Russian, but this town part was 90% Russian dominant. No biggie, I'll handle it.

So I go to my object and find out that it's a super huge food- and building supplies market, something like a supersized Walmart I suppose. My boss is Russian. 4 out of 5 other colleagues are also Russian and the only countryman besides me gets booted off the gig in 3 days for stealing liquor from the store and being drunk all the time.

Source:goofygifs.com

Moment of clarity

That's when it hit me.. They're all washed up drunks. Men with no dreams, ambitions, education, they were all just drunks. Constantly drinking in the security booth, we had huge camera systems, but we lacked the technical know-how so we pretty much just played it like a Playstation controller through trial and error. The system was new because the older 90s soviet models got finally switched out, I swear the pixel density was below 240p on the older ones.

There weren't much perks to the job to say the least, I was working absolute minimum wage and was on my feet for about 10 hours a day and 4 hours behind the cameras. My work was simple, I just had to keep eye on hot stuff such as booze and cigars and make sure everything is peaceful. And let my boss know when his boss comes to the object, because he was asleep most of the time. I can't blame him. There weren't that many thieves, but we had constant problem with local drunk Russians just being an overall problem. They noticed that I was fresh as an icicle and they sure enjoyed punking me, but I'm stubborn by nature and always fight back. I think I averaged about 3 death threats per week, but keep in mind this is not America, nobody has lawyers here or the money for them, so nobody could care less. Also the local police department absolutely hated security guards, because being invited out because of some shop thiefs was not their idea of enforcing law. Not mine either, to be honest.

The job sucked, didn't take me long to start wandering around heither hungover or drunk on my post, nobody really gave a damn. Also due to huge stress at work I'd always get hammered back at dorm. This dorm wasn't like back at in my last post, this was a strict dorm with filled men, who have msierably failed in life. Not really good drinking buddies to say the least.

The job itself, I started getting used to it. Wrestling with the locals, calling police officers, preventing major crime etc... Then I got transfered to a much smaller corner store. But there was so much more action there, constant chasing, running, getting thrown with bottles and my bad case of alcoholism just grew and grew. Living on the local minimum wage I was able to pay for the rend and minimal food, I was absolutely skinny and malnourished at some point, due to my poor financial management skills induced by yours truly, savior alcohol.

Source: myfamous.me

Outstanding work ethic

But then out of the blue I get promoted for my “outstanding work ethic” haha, baffled again, I become a shift supervisor at a midtown club. So I’m essentially a commanding club bouncer. This was a huge increase in salary, but literally each and every single night had more wrestling than Wrestlemania from WWE does. People getting slammed, thrown, puked on, peed at… every night. Oh the good times. Getting drunk as a bouncer on your shift was the most regular thing ever, we had super good relations with bartenders, because they wanted to get drunk, we wanted to get drunk, it’s a win-win, because everybody knows the club is making a bank anyway and our jobs are hard. As a club bouncer I was suited up, backed by solid team and at the hours we operated, midnight, police usually appeared within a 2 hours delay so the best we could do was just kick out problemmakers. Who eventually found their way back in, start more trouble and get kicked out again.

Perks of working in a club as a bouncer

The ladies. No lie, by 3 am nine men out of ten are just border line passed out and women will find a suited bouncer a lot more attractive than the barely conscious men around them. Ladies would just ask me when my shift ends and invite me over to their place, as easy as that.

Oh I have so much more to write, I think this saga needs a part two, but this one's going to long. If you want to see this continued hope you to follow me :)

... to be continued.

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Thank you for reading!