It was the second year of university and I stayed in halls. Most of last years' freshers had decided to move out after their first year. They wanted the freedom to party all night and smoke in their rooms without fear of a passing tutor ratting them out to the Warden. The Warden’s name was Eméline. She was French and was universally known to be tough on hot boxers and smokers in general; someone in her family had died from lung cancer. I chose to stay a second year because I didn't smoke and I got free Internet.
As a second year resident, I was allowed to help run the hall bar. It opened at 6pm most nights. My duties included selling beer, counting the takings, cleaning the glasses and choosing the music. What I actually did was to drink the alcohol I was supposed to be selling and generate noise complaints from the library. Most nights we'd close at 11pm, by which time I'd have often finished ten pints. This was easy because the beer was watered, I was nineteen and I didn't do a lot of work.