09/11/2016 08:16 GMT | Updated 09/11/2017 05:12 GMT

Bitter Sweet Symphony

The the job that I do is basically a 'gate keeper' of sorts. I am the front of house for a venue, greeting people and making sure the venue only takes who it should. Now us 'door girls' do have somewhat of a reputation of being stuck up and very picky but it's not always as bad as people think. You've seen us in movies and TV shows with the classic one liner from behind our clip boards. "If your name's not down, you're not coming in." We are the messengers for the venue. Now, yes, this does mean preventing access to people if they look like they're on Gypsy Wedding, Jeremy Kyle, are drunk, high, a 'lady non grata', aren't adhering to the dress code or have previously caused trouble for the venue. It's not rocket science. 

In stopping people at the door and telling them they are not allowed in can often provoke some interesting repercussions. You see scorned reactions of the human race because they think they've been judged and denied like we are the pearly gates themselves. In reality maybe their muddy Converse do not match the dress code, meaning I would get an almighty bolllocking from higher powers. Dress code is important. If I had a pound for every time I've refused someone based on their sports shoes and been met with the reaction, "but they''re Versace!", "but they're Fendi!", "but they're Armani!" I'd have enough to buy myself some over priced shit sneakers like them. Do these people think I have a list on my clipboard of acceptable brands of clothing? "Im sorry Madame, your leggings are from Primark. Maybe next time Felicia." 

Once someone has been refused, usually drunk, but won't realise this until the morning when they're in the fetal position hugging Aspirin, the insults come in five categories. Remember they are bitter and have a few seconds to try and hurt the feelings of myself and my door team of security. 

1. Insult how I look. For example, shouting "look at the state of her" as I stand in my plain black coat, black trousers and boots in silence. Another popular one is mocking my large lips. I've had these since childhood so went through school with lip jokes been thrown my way. (Note to girls at school in the year above me: I am still yet to get it caught in a trip wire, yes I like shrimp and my name is not Bubba Gump.) 

2. Threaten to get me fired. These people must be very important and tell me how I will lose my job the following day. I have never been asked to leave a venue due to a customer complaining. Ever. 

3. The social media threat. Being told by people they have a massive online following. Whether it be Facebook, Twitter or whether they just tell me they are a journalist and will write all about the situation. Always asking my name and yet, alas, I am still to see any of these articles. 140 characters of shade. Please link them for me if anyone comes across them.

4. Tell me to go back to my country. A shockingly bitter comment. Sadly, and shamefully seen at least once a fortnight from what sound like native English speaking people. I am English. Born and raised in a beautiful market town in North Yorkshire called Darlington. My Grandma is Canadian and moved here when she was 11. That is as 'foreign' as I get. My hair is blonde but I dye it dark brown. Have done for 15 years. Maybe it's my 'female Gremlin lips' that throw them off the scent of an English rose. I am very proud to be British and it makes my blood boil when I see Britons behaving like this. They tell myself and my team of security, all of whom are foreign nationals, that British people can't be denied access on British soil. It's their country and we should all go back where we came from. Shameful.

Here is where it gets interesting;

5. You earn £10 an hour. "You're on minimum wage", "Are your parents proud of what you earn?", "You only get £500 a month". I've heard all the variations of it. I've even had a intoxicated man stand and throw £20 notes at me after spitting at me. This is the one that psychologically I find the most interesting. Money = Status. Why these particular wages enter their heads is still beyond me but they are only screaming a reflection of themselves. They rate a person by what their payslip says at the end of each month. Nothing more. They think we don't earn much so are worthy of insulting. They think if they have money, they are better than my team and I and we are to be looked down upon. They need educating. The kind of person you are defines you. Your work ethic defines you not what you earn. Your kindness to others and nature defines you. Your selflessness defines you. Your morals define you. Be a good person. Money is irrelevant. We give ourselves value in our souls. I would like to clarify for the record, I would happily earn minimum wage and be happy, kind, polite, respectful and NEVER believe I am above, or below, anyone else. 

Remember, there is a very real difference between 'shallow' and 'depth'.

Maybe it is the area in which I work. Mayfair. According to Wikipedia, 'An exclusive area in the West End of London. Rents are among the highest in London and the world and its prestigious status has been commemorated by being the most expensive property square on the London Monopoly board.' Loosely translated, after the sun goes down, a Mecca to the rich, famous, footballers, hen parties, Essex nights out, birthdays, Arabs, after work drinkers, sultry models desperate to be cool in scruffy clothes, wannabe gangsters and the suits forgetting they are married for a night.

Thank you Mayfair. It's been emotional. Over and out.