The Life of a Promo Girl*

*I mean Promo WOMAN.

If you’re not familiar with what a promo female is (or as I so coyly put it on my resume, a “Brand Ambassador”) you need only think back to your last visit to a bar when a young woman in some kind of midriff baring outfit that’s only appropriate to wear at the Teen Choice Awards circa 1997, came up to you and offered up some free Captain Morgan’s paraphernalia. I have never done this kind of “marketing”– the most revealing outfit I ever wore for a promo was a red American Apparel jumper with an Amstel Light tee and matching red Keds. Admittedly, I looked adorable.

Feminism!

The kind of promo stuff I do requires me to wear a brand tee shirt and jeans or black “professional” wear. If I’m going to look like a whore, I do it when I am off the clock– my parents raised me with standards, okay?

I either go to a bar, an event or a super market and do samplings of whatever drink I’m promoting, but most recently I’ve just been handing out beer samples at the grocery store. This is both the best and worst job ever.

Best:

  • It’s so easy. You literally just stand there with no one supervising you.
  • You get payed pretty well, and shifts are generally 2-3 hours.
  • The bar is set exceptionally low. I hate to generalize, but I’ve been in the biz for years, Kid, and there are a lot of dummies doing this. Worse than being dumb, most promo girls are lazy and perpetually a half hour late. I’m a model employee by being only 5 minutes late, actually smiling at people, and making a minimal effort to hide my phone behind a tower of beers while I text.

Worst:

  • Ugggh…. people. Just all these people. And you have to fake laugh at their jokes and you can’t tell them to leave when they start trying to recite the Dos XX’s slogan to you.
  • There is literally nothing more depressing than just observing people at a suburban grocery store in a predominately middle class area. Just because they’re giving out free chocolate chip cookies at the bakery doesn’t mean your 7 year old on a leash needs to eat it! Also, there are so many older women who seem to be positively indignant towards the accepted practice of wearing a bra in public.
  • The only thing to pass the time is to think. Like, about all your life’s choices leading up to this moment, and why did you major in acting, and should you have even bothered going to college at all since it’s pretty clear that you don’t need a BA to pour beer while you smile and go numb as some middle aged man hits on you? And other things like that.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a bad economy and I’m happy to at least have some form of income to pay for my clothing and margaritas habit. Plus, it could be worse. I see the envy in the little 12 year old stock boys’ eyes every time I get to leave for the day.

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