*or*
Hey! I remember this!!
Ah, journaling at home is much better than journaling at work because at home I can erm... make a sandwich, have a glass of wine, etc- creating an ideal writing environment. Or something. And I must say that my work performance has greatly improved with my attentions focused entirely on my job. Making the reservations... cal-cu-lating the commissions... concierging the city. My desk is fabulously organized, republican security is placated with my no-bombs assurances, and I've booked our repeat corporate customers for the next- I don't know, two years or so.
Yeah.
'And she's looking real pretty
just waiting for her clientele.
She works hard for the money *do do du DO*
so hard for it honey! *do do du DO*'
::grooves out the head bob at her desk::
Well then.
::draws shoulders up, Normandy smile plastered to face::
Can I help anyone with anything?
::feels rather than hears or sees a mischievous presence in the vicinity::
Oh no. *to myself* I'm accountable and dedicated these days... none of my old foolishness!
::Stan pops his head up in the window between my desk and the fireplace lobby::
‘Diablita! Psst. You HAVE to come with me- I have to show you something! You're never going to believ-‘
::sigh::
‘Stan, sweetie- I trying to be a responsible adult here. I can’t be running off to play these games anymore. I have to think of my obligation to this position- no one will ever take me seriously if I don’t...’
‘I’ll give you a handful of apple JollyRanchers!’
Well, hell. Who turns down JollyRanchers? And I mean... it’s only *one* harmless little look, right?
What I was being shown was a room that was just vacated by the owner of the hotel. A little background, if you will- Mr. N. is a republican, slightly uptight, silver-spoon fed Nordic dude whose only contact with those outside his social stratosphere are the motley crew I fondly refer to as my coworkers. He can often be found eyeing everything we do with distrust and casually mentioning his desire to install security cameras... pointed at *us*. Seriously, he acts like he signs our paychecks or something! (wahwaaaah;) He’s actually not a bad guy- once *you* understand that *he* simply cannot understand what it is to be working-class.
Anywho- to the suite. When we opened the door, I discovered that I wasn’t the only one here to witness this unbelievable... thing. Two housekeepers, a supervisor, one tech and one light maintenance guy, a houseman and a Kell now occupy this space. Ok hun, showtime- what have you got for us? Stan strolls over and flips the A/C cover open to reveal- what the hell is that!? Is that... is that a *blunt* hidden in there?
:O In Unison. Maybe *we* cannot understand what it’s like to be *him* either
And so it was. I just... I can’t... I just can’t wrap my HEAD around this idea so I won’t even try. I did post the standard smoking fee we charge since the hotel went NS last February though. *Something* had to be done! And don’t worry about me. I used my boss Randy’s code so his initials would show up instead of mine.
And as I left work an hour early (sister’s birthday- totally legitimate excuse! ...long drive to go see her in Duluth! Didn’t bothering mentioning her party was on Sunday. And it would have been 2 hours if I didn't have to finish my blog first;) I thought to myself- ‘self, perhaps today’s attempt to be a more respectable and responsible person didn’t entirely go as planned but don’t you think we learned a valuable lesso-‘
OH LOOKAT THAT KITTEN! CUTECUTE!!
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