I was approached a while back to work at the Best Western owned by my boss. It was funny timing since I had already been planning on offering my services in exchange for listing the position as an "internship" both for résumé purposes and for class credit. I filled out an application and stapled my current résumé to the back, I gave May 12 as my start date (right after finals) and expected to be in training by then. It is May 16 and I have yet to hear back from anyone, I haven't seen a W-4 or an anything even resembling an employee intake form. I was concerned, but only minorly because inside intel tells me that one of their current employees recently submitted a 2 week notice for her intent to quit. Not to mention, my unnamed source (ahem, Misty) says it's a shit show when it comes to scheduling, proofed by the fact that she was called in to work this morning despite suffering from bronchitis and sinusitis and having no voice.
They could really use my help.
My dear friend was kind enough to give me a courtesy call (the poor thing, she really can't talk) to let me know that my future would-be boss has some concerns regarding my professionalism.
My immediate response was a violent one. I was hurt and angry, I may have used some expletives and called him a few names. In all my years at this property, and the time I spent at other ones, I surely had learned how to appropriately conduct myself.
And then I got to thinking...
I need to be better about showing up on time (but it hurts my soul!), and of course there's the issue of proper dress. I definitely have the wardrobe, I just don't use it. It's not an issue where I work now, but I'll have to be careful where I keep my laptop and crackberry (out of sight, of course), and no more iPod.
Thinking about it now, I see where this dude is coming from. But in all fairness, my problems are mostly aesthetic and are 100% attributable to the specific conditions under which I currently work. I do like that I'm getting the chance to have a "real" (whatever that means) job experiencing things like dressing like a grown-up, and where I'll be held accountable to a higher standard (aka the lovely workers at the Best Western Customer Care call center).
Most importantly, I'll be able to break in my shiny new gold sparkle Steve Madden pumps, and have extra income before Las Vegas. LAS VEGAS, ya hear!
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Morning ridiculousness:
Out of curiosity, I searched court records for the lady who calls me thick. Yep... I don't want her staying here anymore. Nothing too scandalous, just some small claims stuff with a local condo rental place, but enough to know that I really shouldn't be doing business with this individual. Not to mention, I hate being reminded every morning of my thickness.
Over the weekend, I had made reservations for a seemingly nice family from across state lines who found themselves stranded in a college town during graduation weekend. They had a family member rushed to the emergency room at the hospital on Friday night but all hotels in town were sold out, so they found a room 30 miles away. On Saturday, I was able to accommodate them in a room of their choice: double, nonsmoking. The next day they asked if they could be moved to a king room. All I had available was a nonsmoking room, but they said it was "perfect." A few hours later my housekeeper spotted them smoking inside the room; she asked them to step outside and they did. Later in the day I saw the same thing happen, so I reminded them it was a nonsmoking room and they would need to go outside with the door closed. They were all too happy to agree.
This morning I was informed by their unfortunate neighbors that there had been a very violent and noisy altercation in the room at around 3am, and that the smoke coming from this room was so bad it was causing issues in other rooms. At 8:47am I had the horrible duty of having to ask these people to leave. I used my best serious-but-nice-but-don't-fuck-with-me voice to tell them that their behavior over the last 24 hours was unacceptable and they would have to leave. The lady I spoke with was unusually nice about it, which makes me think this isn't the first time they've been kicked out of a hotel. As they were packing up their room, another guest overheard them say "I bet it was that sick bitch that ratted us out," referring to their neighbor who has been a resident here for 18 weeks following a surgery to have her colon resected. Talk about classless.
Another chapter in the hilarious bullshit that is BM's life: today he tried to tell me that it costs him 1.8 gallons of gas to go to the VA hospital round trip. With that figure, he calculated that each round trip to the hospital cost him $5. Except, this dumbass is, well, a dumbass. It's 1.8 miles to the hospital, and even if his car is only getting 20 miles per gallon, his daily round trip to the hospital should cost a whopping $0.68. On top of that, he tried telling me that he's 40 years old, but he must have forgotten that I have his drivers license on file which clearly states that he's 43. Jackass.
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