From the Den to Old Trafford, via Craven Cottage and the Emirates, I saw it all during my years pulling pints for fans
I was 17 when I started working at football grounds for some extra cash on the weekends. As the youngest of three girls, I could easily have followed my older sisters into a Saturday job at a local cafe. Instead, I signed away my life (and social life) to a hospitality agency, in exchange for a tenner an hour, flexible shifts and a variety of unflattering uniforms.
As a diehard Hull City fan, I was no stranger to the concourse, but I wasn’t prepared for the trials and tribulations of working in them. From Millwall to Manchester, I’ve seen it all – proposals, tears (mainly my own) and flying pies.
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