The Chill

A couple of days after we moved in, Dillon and I decided that after over a month without working, we should probably rejoin the rest of the world in real life. That day, we did what any bartender or server would do when looking for a job in a new city. We went bar hopping.

We went to pretty much every restaurant and bar within 20 miles of our place, but as soon as we walked into this one, we both knew it was where we wanted to work.

The place is called Jimmy Johnson's Big Chill (the famous football coach down here) and it is freakin huge. There's a sports bar, a martini bar, two outside tiki bars and a pool. It's pretty sweet.

I was fortunate enough to walk in with a resume at the exact right time and met with the GM on the spot. After I was hired, Dillon and I launched plan "infiltrate the Big Chill."

I don't mean to toot my own horn--in fact I don't even have a horn, nor would I know how to toot one if I did--but when we want something, we get it. Now, a month later, I close the dining room and Dillon bar tends. Seriously, we should be secret agents. I need to talk to him about that...

Perks of the Job: Absolutely breath taking sunsets, the potential for Dillon to make A LOT of money off of cougars, 18% gratuity on parties of 6 or more, awesome staff and management, over 20 TVs in the sportsbar for Dillon to watch the Broncos on, ladies nights on Tuesdays and employee discounts on food AND booze.

Downfalls: Holy mosquitoes. Seriously, I look like I have a skin disease. And lots and lots of children. Ahhhh, tourists. (Although I must say, I do enjoy the fact we make non-alc. smoothies for kids; it's a great opportunity for me to up my check total, piss off parents when I even mention the fact that we have them, and not have to constantly refill free kids drinks. Yes, this job makes me bitter.)