Two Dollars!? I Wouldn't Wipe My Own Butt For Two Dollars!
I started working full time last week as a bellman at a local fancy-schmancy hotel. I can't say which, because, well, I want to be honest here, and I don't want to get fired or piss anybody off or anything unsavory like that. After my first week, I have enough material to fill a book. Obviously, I don't want this blog to become a place where I just vent about work every day, so I'm only going to offer up a few choice nuggets from my first four days of work as a full-time employee.
My first day barely even counted. I wasn't working with the guy who normally trains new bellmen, so I pretty much just fumbled through on my good looks, wit, charm, sophistication, and huge muscles. There was a local old peoples' singles society having brunch there on my first day. Seriously, a group of elderly singles. I've never seen so many Cadillacs in one place before. Why do old people like to drive sitting so far forward? We're not supposed to move the seats when we park their cars, but I literally could not fit into this one lady's mid-80's Caddy. I had to turn my head to the side just to fit under the roof of the car. It was awful. Plus, the car smelled like old lady.
The second day was when training truly began. I'd never before heard the phrase, "And this is the most important thing" so often in my life. Apparently, everything about this job is "the most important thing." It's amazing. Basically, I've learned that the rule of thumb with this job is to remember that the customer is always right, even when he or she is demonstrably wrong. There is nothing in this world harder for me to do than to ignore stupidity and greet it with a smile. This will be a growing summer for me. Well, either that or I'll flip out and shoot a bunch of my coworkers with a spudgun or something.
I've met about half the hotel staff by now. They're an interesting bunch. The best part about this job is that everyone is being paid to be sickeningly sweet to all the guests, so fake or not, I work with a bunch of really nice people. One guy is secretly referred to as the "walking sexual harassment suit." One lady is a four-foot-nothing German woman with a Hispanic-sounding name. Apparently, almost all of them have crashed a car at one point. I guess it's not that uncommon an occurrence at this place. Somehow, I'm less than comforted by that thought.
I had to deliver a letter to a bunch of unoccupied rooms one day, and I was deathly afraid of walking in on some couple... uh... entangled... by mistake. Thankfully, I didn't. What I did do, however, was find a grammatical mistake in the letter. In the first sentence, actually. I hope no one actually read that thing, or they'll think we're a bunch of morons. I'm not a moron, though I'm reminded I can only speak for myself. Perhaps everyone else really is.
The vast majority of the job is simply standing around, waiting for someone to walk or drive onto the premises and help them out with whatever they're doing: checking in, parking their car, "just looking around," being lost and can't find a way out, having a sexual fetish that involves bellmen and luggage racks... you know, the usual. The job is a lot of standing around. I'm impressed with how well I'm paid to stand around. At most jobs, your boss would scream at you, "I'm not paying you to stand around." At this, the boss would have nothing to say. Except maybe "Keep up the good work," or possibly, "Andrew, you're really awesome. Here, have a big ol' handful of Spanish dubloons. And can you please come to my daughter's Bat Mitzvah? She thinks you're way hott. With two T's."
You can look forward to more updates on my awesome new job. Don't worry. If you're not really impressed with what I've told you so far, you can always go rent a movie or take a cold shower and try to remember that I don't care what you think. I'm not a freakin' monkey whose sole purpose is to amuse you with my antics.
My first day barely even counted. I wasn't working with the guy who normally trains new bellmen, so I pretty much just fumbled through on my good looks, wit, charm, sophistication, and huge muscles. There was a local old peoples' singles society having brunch there on my first day. Seriously, a group of elderly singles. I've never seen so many Cadillacs in one place before. Why do old people like to drive sitting so far forward? We're not supposed to move the seats when we park their cars, but I literally could not fit into this one lady's mid-80's Caddy. I had to turn my head to the side just to fit under the roof of the car. It was awful. Plus, the car smelled like old lady.
The second day was when training truly began. I'd never before heard the phrase, "And this is the most important thing" so often in my life. Apparently, everything about this job is "the most important thing." It's amazing. Basically, I've learned that the rule of thumb with this job is to remember that the customer is always right, even when he or she is demonstrably wrong. There is nothing in this world harder for me to do than to ignore stupidity and greet it with a smile. This will be a growing summer for me. Well, either that or I'll flip out and shoot a bunch of my coworkers with a spudgun or something.
I've met about half the hotel staff by now. They're an interesting bunch. The best part about this job is that everyone is being paid to be sickeningly sweet to all the guests, so fake or not, I work with a bunch of really nice people. One guy is secretly referred to as the "walking sexual harassment suit." One lady is a four-foot-nothing German woman with a Hispanic-sounding name. Apparently, almost all of them have crashed a car at one point. I guess it's not that uncommon an occurrence at this place. Somehow, I'm less than comforted by that thought.
I had to deliver a letter to a bunch of unoccupied rooms one day, and I was deathly afraid of walking in on some couple... uh... entangled... by mistake. Thankfully, I didn't. What I did do, however, was find a grammatical mistake in the letter. In the first sentence, actually. I hope no one actually read that thing, or they'll think we're a bunch of morons. I'm not a moron, though I'm reminded I can only speak for myself. Perhaps everyone else really is.
The vast majority of the job is simply standing around, waiting for someone to walk or drive onto the premises and help them out with whatever they're doing: checking in, parking their car, "just looking around," being lost and can't find a way out, having a sexual fetish that involves bellmen and luggage racks... you know, the usual. The job is a lot of standing around. I'm impressed with how well I'm paid to stand around. At most jobs, your boss would scream at you, "I'm not paying you to stand around." At this, the boss would have nothing to say. Except maybe "Keep up the good work," or possibly, "Andrew, you're really awesome. Here, have a big ol' handful of Spanish dubloons. And can you please come to my daughter's Bat Mitzvah? She thinks you're way hott. With two T's."
You can look forward to more updates on my awesome new job. Don't worry. If you're not really impressed with what I've told you so far, you can always go rent a movie or take a cold shower and try to remember that I don't care what you think. I'm not a freakin' monkey whose sole purpose is to amuse you with my antics.
posted by Vaughan at
5:26 PM
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