I got hosed on my taxes this year because of a paperwork error I never caught. I think I paid more in taxes than several corporations.
I don’t have my own computer.
My ankle and knee are bothering me.
Nightmares. Night sweats. I wake up drenched. The cats have a field day.
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Elder cat, Hallie, is acting weird. Even for a cat, so the goalposts of weird are extended through the several hundred dimensions cats perceive. She finds ribbons throughout the house, bunched up from the kitten’s attacks, and straightens them. She does a little dance with her front paws and back feet to smooth the lumps, and chatters away. Chirps. Conversational meows. Sometimes she moves things out of the way on the floor to straighten the full length of the ribbon, and I wake up with lines spanning away from my bed, Hallie snoozing between my hip and arm. My room is kind of a mess. Maybe this is her way of bringing order to chaos.
There are birds living in an air vent in the house. If you listen in the bathroom you can hear them flutter in the walls. It’s driving the cats bonkers. Hallie in particular, leans against the brick walls, her paws stretched out as though the bricks will melt away, a la Platform 9 ¾.
I find wonderful jobs that aren’t anywhere near where I live. Stupid me, I fell in love. He’s good for me, but more important, he’s good to me. Now I want to stay with him. Not that I’d survive on a part time job in Washington DC, but I’ll live in a ditch if it means working for The Brookings Institute.
My stomach is rebelling at random foods. This ends with me dry heaving in the middle of the night, hoping a guest doesn’t need to check out while I’m occupied. I found a good meal replacement shake. Tastes like Coco Puffs. I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my life eating replacement shakes and Cliff Bars.
I got in an argument with my boss. Yes, I need to be a good little service robot. Yes, I need to do what my boss tells me. Blah blah blah. The argument was especially stupid, considering he’s got a “degree” in Hospitality Management. I realize those quotes make me sound elitist and I don’t care. Here’s the gist of the dispute: night clerks in hotels charge people no-show fees if they make reservations and then don’t bother to contact the hotel. In some cases, I waive this fee if they’re a regular guest, booked the wrong property, had some emergency, there’s a volcano in Iceland and they can’t leave the continent, that sort of thing. One of the most hilarious calls I ever got from a third party booking site (Expedia, Priceline) was a woman with a slight accent who explained the guest would not be arriving. I asked why not and she confidently explained there was a snowstorm in the Midwest. It was July. I told her that’s a good answer and it would usually work, but the seasons are probably reversed here right now. I’d waive it this time and for the next few months to say rainstorm or tornado. But, I digress.
So I get an email from my boss outlining all the people I’ve waived the fee for in May, which amounts to about $1500 in revenue. Line by line, I addressed each one and cited why I didn’t charge the fee, or showed them I had charged the fee and they’d missed it. As I said, if it’s clear you can’t do basic research, I get to put your stupid “degree” in quotes.
Hospitality Management: We just need to be consistent about these fees.
Me: Yes, I understand. Your email says I need to charge everyone, and this is exactly what I’ll do. I’ve responded to each of these reservations with my reasoning. You know, some of these people are regular guests, with dozens of reservations booked out. But that’s okay. Because these people won’t call on my shift. They’ll call on yours, so you can deal with the customer service and revenue fallout that comes with no-showing someone who gives us that kind of business.
Hospitality Management: Well, obviously we wouldn’t no-show someone like [Regular Guest].
Me: That’s not what your email says. Your email says to charge everyone. You listed regular guests who spend thousands of dollars here.
I may have also called a member of the sales staff a hot mess. She regularly shows up wasted at two in the morning, teetering like a newborn gazelle in her too high shoes, and decides to “help” me with the audit.
I should probably see my doctor about a stronger anti-depressant.
Every time I interview for a night clerk position I ask if I have autonomy over two things: evicting douche canoes that keep the hotel awake and cause property damage, and no-show fees. Every manager tells me I’ll have this autonomy, and every last one of them lied.
I can’t lose my job. But I find I care less about the overnight gig. I am about to walk out. Not because of this one disagreement, but the industry in general. Good service should come first, the money always follows. Someone is probably pressuring my boss about the bottom line, so this is how it’ll go.
A few nights ago I waited on the CFO of a major firm. Before he went to bed, he told me to trust my instincts. Good advice. I don’t know if mine are healthy anymore.