Arriving on the first day and working for the most un-organised events management company, possibly in the UK; getting up at 04:45 leaving New Eltham to get a train to Ascot for 08.00 but missing the 05:30 train and catching the 06:00. All this to stand around until 11:00 am. The company had promised that we were going to have our set work places as soon as we got to the venue. Little did we know we were going to be stood in a queue for 3 hours waiting to be placed. So eventually my brother and I got placed on the same bar, a pimms and champagne bar. Thank goodness! I couldn’t have dealt with the same obnoxious co-workers, they had assigned us to work with all week, by myself.
Before starting work, we had to collect our uniform. Un-organised, this doesn’t even begin to cover it; they hadn’t even worked out what uniform we were supposed to have! So eventually after collecting a blue tie and blue and black apron, lunch was given to us in a brown paper bag. We had been promised some sort of substantial meal but we were given a 300ml bottle of water, a chocolate bar, a packet of crisps and some sort of processed crap slapped between two pieces of white bread. No fruit or vegetables and this was supposed to last us a 12 hour shift.
Our journey to our bar, considering security are supposed to know where everything is in case of an emergency and after being directed around the whole of Ascot, took us 1 hour. The same bar that we had walked past on the way in, right next to the entrance. At least we got to see the whole complex.
The gates opened at 10:30 each morning. On the first day we didn’t get to the bar until 12:00. We lied and said we had both been trained in pouring champagne and so we got chucked in at the deep end. The first day was flying by pretty quick. I had met some ‘interesting people’ – not that I think “people” is an appropriate label. There was one group that stuck next to me all day; the main leader of the group was also the shortest, most irritating and the most gobbiest. His name was David – Dave for short (also known as short man syndrome). The first race came and he lost, but bought a bottle of Bollinger champagne, which for reference in a supermarket is about £60 but a at Ascot was £100. There was one woman in his group, who wouldn’t give me the time of day, even though I was calling her madam all day and 2 other men, who were not as confident as this Dave but also had that slimy air about them. Every new group of ladies that turned up next to Dave, a new bottle of Bollinger was bought, a new arse was grabbed and an exchange of saliva was made. Eventually he had bought 9 bottles of Bollinger and 6 jugs of PIMMS, which for reference again were £25 a jug (you only get two pints out of each and some mouldy cucumber to drink it with). In total Dave had spent £1050 on alcohol. At the end of the day Dave told me that he had a corporate box, (a box is where they are able to watch the races from a special place in their own section receiving free food including caviar and champagne), which had cost him a total of £14000 for the day. Oh and he has a wife.
Similar occurrences happened across the whole week. The men, who had a lot of money, including the average canary wharf suited and booted business man would pay £70 to enter into Ascot (although on my last day I found out that if you wait until the last 10 minutes you only pay £30). These “average” men would drink before entering the venue, turn up at the venue and bet on average a £100 on each race (7 races in total) and then the majority would lose come back to the bar spend more money on alcohol and then go and do the same again. Except when it came to Ladies Day.
I have never seen such a state; they start the day as ladies and end the day as a mess. I don’t understand the logic of buying a nice expensive dress, shoes and fascinator, spending money on getting your hair and makeup done, to get absolutely off your face, string men along so they buy your drinks, and recklessly fall over and roll around in the mud (it was raining on this specific day) and then get back up and carry on drinking. There was one woman in particular who I’m going to refer to as ‘Bubbles’ – like ‘Bubbles’ from Little Britain (see picture above). Now earlier on in the day as we had started work our manager whom I’m going to call Fred, (whom I must say made my experience more enjoyable; the one positive part of the whole time) gave us a brief on the day as we were preparing the PIMMS. “This is going to be the most brutal day you will work, it is absolute carnage, like a zoo, you will receive abuse; and no offence to you Sophie but with the men you’ve got to get your flirt on; they love it”. I’m thinking okay brilliant I’m tired, the only woman and I’m straight. So the day had passed pretty quickly again as it was quite busy until about 16:00 and then ‘Bubbles’ comes along. She is about the same size as the Little Britain character and looked as if she had been dunked in fake tan. She was wearing a purple body com dress and was vulgarly blowing kisses, laughing and shouting even more vulgar language with her Essex accent. We had been told not to serve people if they were too drunk and ‘Bubbles’ who had fallen over about 4 times already asks for a straw. I hesitate as I know I’m probably not supposed to acknowledge her as I’m going to put myself in a difficult position – which I did. She screams in an Essex accent “what ya not gna give me a fuckin straw?”
I reply “yes but I’m not serving you alcohol”
She screams “what ya fuckin talkin abaaat I’m not drunk it’s my shoes luv!” (In reference to her falling over).
I reply “ok then, but I’m still not serving you”
She screams “oh go fuck ya self ya stupid little girl” stumbles to speak to another woman who she doesn’t know, “did ya just fuckin hear that she won’t fuckin serve me, stupid little “cunt”.
At this point I walked off crying, I know it wasn’t personal, but as I had explained earlier, I was tired and the food was crap…
But my boss didn’t really do anything, until the end of the day when she was kicked out of the premises for being in a state.
The end of the day and catching the train home from Ascot was the most amusing best part of the day. We met all sorts of different people, some of whom offered me a job, but the most entertaining was a group of lads. During a 45 minute discussion we had a debate about politics, Syria, music and beached whales. We also met two best friends who were from Jamaica but have lived in England for over 30 years. They were lovely! I was surprised they even went to Ascot but they don’t drink and they only went for the horses. After the week my brother and I had they delivered the best piece of advice ever “don’t take life too seriously”.
Sophie Cridland
