Full disclosure: I smoke occasionally. These days it's more rare than it is occasional, but the point is that I am no stranger to partaking in the burning and inhalation of tobacco. Despite my (mostly drunken) affinity for cancer sticks, I hate the taste of it. I hate the smell, I hate the way my lungs feel like they died a little each time I smoke. The few times I made the mistake of smoking in my car I regretted it for weeks, and I would never even consider smoking indoors.
I'm not particularly sensitive to the smell of smoke since I grew up around it but I am especially sympathetic to those who can't stand it. That being said, why on god's green earth would a person PURPOSELY book a smoking room and then be surprised when it smells like smoke? Thankfully, this fuckfest was not my problem to deal with but I couldn't help but wonder how to properly handle such a situation. The conditions surrounding this particular circumstance was that a singularly unique whirlpool suite is smoking-optional to accommodate a larger range of guests; the guest in question was interested in this whirlpool suite but expressed concern about the smokiness. The guest representative who handled this call explained that the room was mostly occupied by nonsmokers and that the room did not have an overwhelming scent, while still being abundantly clear about the fact that the room was never purported to be smoke-free.
The moral of the story is that people hear what they want to hear, and that a large percentage of hotel guests expect hotels to be maintained in the same manner as their homes. On a crummier day I would have just said "if you don't like it, stay home" but today I feel especially accommodating.
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It sucks working weekends, and it takes every ounce of my being to refrain from quitting school and going back to a M-F schedule. In an effort to make this suck a little less, I've taken more care than usual when packing my meals for work so as to improve my energy levels throughout the day. Today I had raisin bran with a splash of skim milk (damn you lactose intolerance) with a banana and orange juice. I also brought an orange for my mid-afternoon snack because I've found that if I have a little something between 1-3pm I am less sleepy and less likely to go home and cram every food within reach into my face.
Today it's easy because I'm fresh off a trip to the grocery store, but come Wednesday I fear I'll be back to chicken nuggets from the freezer. Fruit should be sold in vending machines, it could easily take the place of expired bags of popcorn that no one would miss.
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I think it's safe to say that the weather is finally NOT WINTER and I'm going to ignore the fact that my car was covered in frost this morning because today's forecast high is 58 degrees, and tomorrow a whopping 68.
I'm excited for flip-flop weather (despite it ALWAYS being flip-flop weather in my world) and barbeques and suntans, but I'm pretty bummed that in this beautiful weather I discovered a song that saps all the motivation from my convictions and takes me back to a darker place.
Damn you, Adele, for making me wish it was winter again.
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