He was visibly shaken as he walked up to the door. A cheap knock-off Rolex and a dirty finger nail immediately gave him away. Before he mustered up the courage to plead his case, I had already made my decision; this is no place for such a low-life. You see, in my limited time working as a door selector at one of Cairo’s fanciest bars, I was finally catching up on what my managers had, for months, tirelessly tried to teach me. It was a cold winter night when I got the call from the bar’s owner congratulating me for landing the job as a glorified gatekeeper to his establishment. At the time, I believed it was the best job a confused, fresh out of college millennial like myself could stumble upon. Not only will I, overnight, turn into a powerhouse in Cairo’s nightlife, I naively fantasised, but I’ll also get free drinks and bites every night. A sweet deal, it seemed. “Work starts at 6 P.M.,” said the owner . The very next day, I jumped behind the wheel, looking like the best version of myself, and made my…
