It’s really hard being a promoter

No one ever thinks of the poor rep’s feelings

I’ve been a rep since my second day of uni and my life has been downhill from there.

I mean, yeah, I never have to pay to get into a club night.

I never pay full price for a drink.

I never have to queue in the cold for hours to get into the most popular clubs.

And sometimes my boss will just buy me and my mates free bottles of vodka or champagne.

On our last night out boss gave everyone from the Tab a table in the VIP section and gave us a free bottle of champagne to get the night started. Then later once that bottle was dry I had a quick word with my boss and suddenly there was another bottle on our table, sparkler and all.

But there are downsides. Trust me.

That was only the first bottle

That was only the first bottle

You probably don’t understand how hard it is to go out up to 4 times a week and therefore be hungover 4 times a week.

I am still a little fuzzy on the details of the rest of thursday night after we had got through three bottles.

Thanks to my job I actually missed my first ever lecture which was a 9am at Harcourt Hill on a Tuesday. Last term I only missed two MNBs but I probably missed a more than a couple of 9ams at Harcourt.

Hazard of the job

Hazard of the job

I did turn up to one of them still drunk from the night before and the next day I tried to read the notes I made in that lecture and they were impossible to decipher.

I’ve met so many people through promoting that I’ve lost track to be honest.

And now some of my friends will never take me seriously and assume everything I say is promoting, which it normally is. But they don’t need to know that.

My mate was asked to do an impression of me and he put on a terrible accent and just said “Bridge, Bridge, Bridge, Bridge…” and now I’m living with this guy next year.

So you can see it is actually a real struggle being a rep with more alcohol than one liver can deal with. And enough embarrassing club photos to deter any future employer from even giving me an interview.

The saddest thing is that this is as good as it gets for me now. Everything from here is downhill, as the next couple years I just get more work.

And then I’m in the real world where no one wants to buy my tickets and all I’m left with is a slight alcohol addiction and no cheap way to fuel it any more.

Who needs a job with classic photos like these?

Who needs a job with classic photos like these?

Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to live it up while I can and count on friends and family to get me a job come graduation day when I’m handed my Desmond.