|Life was one big boozy party for nightlife marketer Trina|
(all names have been changed), 25 -– non-stop highs, and even one-night stands while she was supposed to be working. She tells JEANNE TAI why she’s done with “party sex”.
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I’ve worked in the nightlife industry for three years, doing publicity and marketing for the trendiest clubs in town. I’ve not only had my own experiences with “party sex”, but I’ve seen it happen with others as well.
I’ve watched women get plastered, with guys all over them. I’ve seen so-called “friends” letting their drunken girl pals leave the club with men they’ve only just met. I wouldn’t trust a strange guy to take my friend home. But what can you do? Crap happens.
>Link Info : General Issues - Party Sex
I started clubbing as a student, and was smoking and drinking by 17. Because I partied so often, I met people in the industry who offered me a marketing job at a hot new club after I graduated from university. “Why not?”, I thought.
I entered a fun, energetic world. It could also get pretty crazy.
For the past few years, my work routine has been the same: I plan marketing strategies from home in the day via e-mail, but am at the club three nights a week to entertain customers and make sure they’re taken care of.
This means personally ushering them to their tables, supplying them with drinks, checking that they’re enjoying the party, and so on.
I’m at the club by 11pm and leave between 3am and 5am. If I’m hosting a guest DJ or act, I stay until he finishes his set and am always on hand to get him drinks, ensure his equipment is set up and that he’s comfortable.
Almost all the DJs have tried to get into my pants. They ply me with drinks, and sometimes put their arms around me and try to get me to go back with them. I always say no.
I never knew how much people could make you drink until I started work. I got high whenever I partied with friends, but at work, it was something else altogether.
I saw rich customers splurge on seemingly endless rounds of alcohol. Every night, I’d go around the club, stopping at all the tables to mingle with guests. And that’s when the wild partying would start.
My customers would force me to drink so much, I was downing the equivalent of two bottles of champagne a night. It’s hard to say no – you have to keep people happy or they won’t come back and spend.
No one discouraged me from my heavy drinking. My co-workers all understood it was part of the job. It was common for my colleagues and even my bosses to also get drunk by the end of the night while “working”.
I paid for it in the mornings with terrible hangovers. I’d crawl out of bed with a pounding head, groaning, “Why am I doing this?”
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