Reposting the time I worked at the Hexcoin launch event:

Hex Coin. I catered and waitered one of their events in a huge team in a super fancy building in central London last year. The event lasted about 12 hours and got increasingly out of hand with every hour that went by.

They made us make this ENORMOUS cake. I’m talking like, one square meter at least. But hex shaped and coloured. Later in the night I carried it onto the stage with a colleague (with a procession of cyborg strippers - more on that later) for the CEO to cut. He cut one slice and then told us to take the cake back to the kitchen because he didn’t need it for more than that. An entire cake wasted. Me and my friends did our best to take as much of it home with us as we could, but there was still loads left that just got binned.

After prepping the food I went to do the meet and greet plus coats and bags rack. I’m on the door and everyone who comes through it gives me a spiel about why I should get into crypto. One guy asks me to make sure his bag is secure because he’s got hard terabytes of sensitive information on his hard drives in his bag. The ones who didn’t give me a spiel just ignored me. The only thank yous I got were from the programmer looking blokes - you know, the khaki shorts and stained olive drab t shirt look. They were generally quite shy so I guess just appreciated a friendly hello and reciprocated.

Anyway, the night goes on, im serving platters and carrying bags of ice to the VIP bar. Everything seems normal ish for a corporate event so far.

Then a guy wearing a suit (and top hat) covered in silver reflective plastic walks in to some knock-off daft punk sounding music. He’s followed by about 10 women who are also dressed in this reflective stuff, but only in teeny bikinis. They come out and put on a crypto themed strip show, where the the main guy controls them with a remote, at which point I was called back to the kitchen to bring the cake on.

After that, the girls go to the VIP bar, and every time I go in there, there’s a new slobbering cryptohead Andrew Tate prototype telling the girls how much money they make. By this point, most people are blind drunk.

I head to the bathroom that was pristine earlier, and it’s trashed. It’s full of dudes doing coke. A group of scousers are all throwing up all over the sink and floor. One guy is on the toilet doing hilariously loud fart/shits/sharts. The smell in there is ungodly. I do my business and exit as soon as possible.

From there it just gets continually lary, lots of glasses smashed, general rich dickery. Many of the odd things I saw that night have probably faded from my memory by now and been replaced by new stories of rich creeps. Like the time I catered and waitered for an old Etonian gentlemen’s cravat/cognac club, or the russian tennis oligarchs, or the diamond auction golf dinner.