Yesterday.
Outside, smoking- Victor’s teaching me how to swear in Spanish (and I’m looking forward to making my fights with the housekeeping staff more interesting;). I’m in generally high spirits as I recount my *gasp* Saturday night dancing attempts to an amused and appreciative audience of construction temps. Landing a particularity difficult pirouette from a top a pallet of new carpeting, my graceful (umph, fell down) dismount deposits me on the ground in front of our night auditor, Paul.
Huh, isn’t that strange? It’s almost 9am, I wonder what he’s still doin- oh hell...
‘Forget something, Kell?’ said of course, with the slightly menacing air of the night walker.
Street parking doesn’t count until 8, it’s now 9... Paul’s shift ended at 7 after which he headed to his hot date, (in graveyard speak I guess that’s a hot breakfast? silly.) and someone was supposed to plug his meter. Guess who?
::Here Paul holds up his ticket::
OK. This is not a horrible situation- the truth is, I completely forgot. Oops, yet forgivable. I don’t really function before 9, you see (*and* I suspect I was roofied over the weekend). Instead of just admitting this- I invent a complicated and totally unbelievable lie. I tighten the noose the longer I talk- he knows I’m lying, I know he knows I’m lying. I don’t shut up. (I’m a BAD liar) A plot involving alien abduction and the resurrection of my dead father would have been more plausible. Yeah.
To make amends this morning- I brought in a bottle of Crown... Cheers! Er, right? :D Paul was gracious when he accepted my gift and then informed me that he was going to go home and drink in the hopes of passing out and sleeping till his next shift. After paying his ticket, he could no longer afford food and sleeping would keep the hunger pangs at bay. He just wanted to let me know, y’know- in case I felt like buying him breakfast tomorrow morning.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long week.
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