So, I’ve got a new job.
I’m the smiling, cheerful little bundle of fun that greets you as you enter the rather grand lobby of a well-known country hotel & spa.
I’d like to smugly announce that my career aspirations have finally (and successfully) been realized, but I have to be honest; it’s all a bit of a fiasco.
As ever, I am forced into servitude for yet another bad-tempered old bag-face whose mission in life seems to be to wait until either a hotel guest or the hotel manager is at reception before she launches one of her pre-loaded “But-I-Showed-You-How-To-Do-That” bombs at me.
What I want to know (besides, obviously, how the key-card-door-coder works) is what precisely is up with these lesbians?
They look at your CV. They interview you. Then they interview you again and all the while they seem to be relatively normal, leaving you with the reassuring sense that everybody in the interview room is crystal clear, and on the same page, with the fact that you, whilst obviously fabulous and looking pretty damned fly in your new suit, will be the new girl and are likely to need some training (and that).
So you go in on your first day to discover that She’s-So-Cuddly-I-Wish-She-Was-My-Auntie, Interview-Lady has taken a sabbatical (presumably to bake cookies and darn the socks of orphans) and left, in her place, a terrifying, arms folded, foot-tapping, lizard-creature whose forked tongue, ill-prepared to answer simple frigging questions like “Where are the loos” or “Where is the staff car-park,” is reserved solely for the purposes of dismembering poultry and cattle for use in the restaurant.
Through gritted fangs they divulge the absolute basics of the information you’re going to need about your responsibilities, but pay attention, because they do it fast and out of any perceptibly logical order.
The game, as I understand it, from then onwards, is for Lizard-Creature to try and catch you out doing something (anything) in a manner inconsistent with her original instructions, and to sigh impatiently any time you finally get drunk enough at lunchtime with the Polish waiters in the bar, to dare ask it to show you how to get the key-card-door-coder to work.
So, in terms of my new career, the first couple of months were a bit tense, lucrative (poker with the Polish waiters at lunchtimes) but definitely tense.
As usual, things finally started to get better when I gave up any pretense of proffessionality (yep, once again you’re correct, I made that one up too) and resorted to my usual M.O of merrily lying through my teeth and hiding stuff.
It’s only a question of time till Lizard-Creature busts me though.
As sure as God made little green apples…………………………