on moving on.

So I've been thinking about quitting my job for a while. Part of it is that I need to get on with my life and focus on more important things, and the other part is just plain burnout.

Surprisingly, the burnout is not from my bosses.

It might be a side effect of the property itself, but I'm thinking it's really the entire industry. The hospitality industry. It saddens me to admit it, but I hate this shit. For the longest time I loved it, I truly honestly did. I wanted to do this forever (well, not this exactly, but shades of the same theme) and I had a plan.

Finance and entrepreneurial management classes taught me better and I learned to love other things in the process and I can still very much see myself part of a hotel in some aspect, but nowhere near the front desk. Not in management, not in operations, not in any part of business that is distinctly hospitality.

The problem with hospitality is that you get to see people at their worst. I can definitely say that many of the problems I see these days are signs of a bad economy, but it wears on you. To the guy trying to put his life together post-prison release: I feel for you man, but pay your damn rent. To the single mother with shitty credit and no place to raise her two young kids: I feel for you, but pay your damn rent. To the homeless, starving, traveling artist: get a real job stop ruining our fucking towels with your paints, and thank you for somehow paying your rent on time every day.

I see sad stories every day. People begging me to ease up on collecting money, as if one day of charity will ease their burden forever. I can't help you, I can't save you. It's exhausting having to tell at least someone once a day, "I wish I could help, but this is a business." Our rules are firm not because we're sticklers, but because I need a paycheck too. If I'm not collecting money, then there's no money to pay my bills. And I really wish people would understand that from my perspective, my problems matter more.

It's my job to look out for me, because nobody else is gonna do that for me. It's your job to look out for you. Not my job.

I say that with a heavy heart, because I technically do have the capacity to help. I could skip a day of payment and no one would know any better. I could give a free room and bury the paperwork and who would it really hurt? The answer: myself. I need this job, not just for the paycheck it provides but for the relationships I have built. Because the idea is that someday I'll have to move on from here and I'll need someone to vouch for me.

I shouldn't have to feel guilty that I'm looking out for myself.

It's the saddest predicament for me because the people are what wore me down, but the people are also what I loved the most about being here. But I'm almost certain that my favorite guest of all time passed away this weekend, and now I'm left with sad saps who can't seem to find money in their pockets to secure a roof over their heads but they're well stocked up on cigarettes and cheap alcohol.

I can't make them make better choices, I can't make them clean their lives up, but I can make them find somewhere else to stay, and I'm sad that's what I spend my day doing.

Your business is not welcome.

I need a new job.