My shifts as a shot girl

Horrible bosses, painful shoes and a lot of pervy men

elless liverpool shot girl student jobs

You’ve probably never bought a shot from a shot girl – one of those scantily clad ladies balancing a tray over their boosted breasts, flogging shots for almost double what it’d cost you at the bar.

It might look like a glamorous job, all high heels and smiles, but have you ever tried strutting around in six inch heels, sober, on sticky club floors to get 10p from every shot you sell?

Emily has.

The Law student told The Tab: “I worked for four hours and didn’t spill a drop.

“A girl had warned me about over pouring. I was being really careful but we had to leave our bottles in a room away from the bar.

“As the night went on I could tell it was missing.”

After Emily’s horror story, I wanted to see for myself if it was a rip off

Emily was charged £25 for her first shift on top of what she’d made. The supervisor said leaving it in the room was her mistake.

She added: “I was trying so hard not to cry, I didn’t want to sound like an idiot.

“You would feel like an idiot.”

But not everyone thinks it’s the job from hell.

Izy enjoyed her job with a different company, making £40 for just three and a half hours work.

She said: “Its a big confidence boost and most of the people you serve just want to have a joke.

“But you have to have thick skin as the slaps on the bum do get a bit tiring.”

The dress code

I wanted to find out if the industry really is as seedy and dodgy as its reputation suggests, so I signed up to a local agency.

I had an interview at the Hilton, but it was more like a drill on what not to do.

Their website boasted no hot pants (a real plus), but there were a whole world of other don’ts: no ponytails, no chokers, no big jewellery, no bindis and no tights (unless you had a bruise or a scar, which you had to text a picture of on the day).

We would have to apply a full face of makeup and buy a bumbag to wear with heels (but not kitten heels, platforms or wedges).

We weren’t given a contract, we weren’t trained in how to deal with customers, but we were guaranteed at least 10p a shot.

My first shift was in a bar not even Google maps could find, and it certainly wasn’t the bouncing club I expected.

The death sticks

As it was quiet I kept approaching the same people again and again, and I was met with either pity for having to work in my going out gear or annoyance – I felt like a mosquito coming back for more. I was also felt up… a lot. I had to hold back my punches with a grin.

I did feel bad though, I was completely ripping everyone off – £2.50 for a Sambuca in Liverpool is a complete joke.

At the end of the night I had to be “cashed up”, but instead of getting a supervisor I had to send a photo of my bottle. The company work out how much you’ve sold by looking at the picture of your bottle.

I waited 15 minutes and when I’d still had no response I rang, but there was no answer. I tried another number and after a wild iMessage goose chase, I finally got paid.

£37.40 to the venue, £12.10 to the company and £35 for me (but £20 of that was tips).

The picture of my bottle which I had to send

All I had to show for my first shift

I confirmed another shift but my boss accused me of having an attitude because they’d messed up the rota and double booked me.

I went ahead though and the second venue was rammed. Thank GOD I didn’t have to wear heels for this one. You have no idea how much booze numbs the pain until you work a full shift in them sober.

The dress code was completely different. I had to dress as a cowgirl. You’re meant to send a photo of myself to the company before as part of a uniform check. If I forgot to do this I’d be suspended for two weeks, but I only found this out after checking their Facebook. No one ever told me.

Most of the customers wanted a chat and a laugh, but some sleazy men grabbed me and pull me in by the waist. I couldn’t do anything except be “bubbly” and “friendly” as both my hands were full. It might be part of being a shot girl, but it’s still sexual harassment.

My second night’s wages

One staff member told me customers would try to take her clothes off, and another said somebody had spat their shot back into the glass so they didn’t have to pay for it.

Other slime balls told me they’d only take the shot if they could body shot it, or if I gave them my number.

As I tired of being asked to “shake it” to Taylor Swift, a man as old as my dad caught my eye. His eyes were firmly glued to my tits, following them around the room for a whole verse. When he finally looked up his embarrassed face met mine. I felt like kicking him in the balls, but all I could do was offer him a shot.

The anger at pricks like him was only half of it – the guilt was much worse.


The customers would fall in love with you, blinded by booze, and having bought a shot, were genuinely upset by the fact the only reason you had approached them was for their money. This was the hardest part of the job.

I made £50 this time, with tips.

It wasn’t a scam but the job wasn’t worth it.

The Facebook group was highly unprofessional with the boss slagging girls off and slamming students for prioritising university work.

One post read: “If you can’t manage your own time and get your assignments done you shouldn’t have gone to uni… oh and might I add I got 92 per cent.”

One girl impaled me with her stiletto

Another said: “I am very close to starting again with the entire Liverpool team.

“The attitude I have received this week is disgusting. Everyone is so fussy and demanding.

“I will not tolerate it. You work in the venue I put you or don’t expect any work again.”

Maybe I was just a shit shot girl… but I’m definitely hanging up the bum bag.