By All Means, Please Take Two

Ah, so as stated from my last post, the pool has been opened for the season at my hotel.  We had an exceptionally busy night at the hotel and in the pool the other night.  To me, it was too cold outside yet to be swapping my sweater for a two-piece, but what do I know?  I’m a Southern Girl in the Midwest Snow.  At one point I counted 15 people in both the pool and hot tub together.

Needless to say, the area was teeming with people.  We keep a healthy supply of towels in the pool room, so, with only 15 people at the max having been in there at once, I should have had plenty of towels.

Not so.  By the end of the night I had five towels left because people insisted on having pillows for their leisurely soak in the hot tub.  Ugh, of course.

You know, it wouldn’t be an annoyance to me if it had been busier in the pool.  But when we’ve got about 50 pool towels and suddely I only have 5?  That’s an issue to me.

So, here I am doing all this laundry because people are helping themselves to two pool towels.

Pool towels.  I’m complaining about pool towels.

It’s still rather slow at the hotel.  Stay tuned for more.

Seriously, though… just use one towel!  Or bring your own pool towel next time.  We don’t just pull clean towels out of our asses, you know!


Don’t Save The Kitty

Now, if some of you know me personally, you know that I am an animal person.  I was the little kid that would bring home lizards, snails, frogs, snakes, kittens, puppies, whatever from my romps in the neighborhood.  It go to the point that when I started hanging out with friends with driver’s licenses and cars that my mom would always tell me “Don’t you come home with another pet!” when I would leave the house.

Because, well, I would.

Even now, as an adult, I have tried to bring home numerous animals.  Lately, my obsession is cats.  I grew up with dogs, so I am discovering how much I like cats since I was out on my own for a long while.  It started with taking in a beautiful blue girl that was hanging out on my front porch at my apartment. She ended up having babies.  I loved the three of them so much.  I named her Eva.  She was amazing.  She was loving and always so happy to see you.  Sometimes TOO happy.

Then, when I moved to Houston, Frederick came into my life.  I fell in love with him instantly.  Now he is the brother to my dog, Pork Chop.  Such a great story the both of them have, really.  But it is not the point of this entry this week.

You see, my most recent adventure to try to save a kitten from the blustering snow and outdoors landed me in the hospital.

It was a cold Saturday night and I was in the laundry room digging around for the right light bulb with which to change out one in the lobby with.  As I’m climbing down the ladder, I see a plump black kitten romping across the snowy lot.  I immediately jump into action!  I put the light bulb down (honestly surprised I didn’t break it…) and run around the office and outside. I go quietly and try to make myself look smaller by crouching down and talking lightly to the kitten.  It stops and it meows at me quite a bit.  In that cute way that kittens have of meowing with their entire mouth.  I try to coax it in with just my voice.  And then it runs up under a guests’ vehicle.  I think that it is just going to keep running.  No, this baby is smart and immediately climbs up into the truck.  It’s a big truck.  A big Ford truck with an engine a mile deep.

I go back in and grab my coat, then knock on the guests’ door.  I apologize for bothering them but explain that I saw a kitten climb up into their vehicle and that I don’t want it to be trapped there, nor do I want them to find a dead kitten in their engine days later.  We search for 15 minutes.  I was saddened, but I figured it would come out if I had food.  I call my mom and they are luckily just across the street at the store.  They grab me a small can of cat food and bring it on over.

So, the waiting begins.  I have the can stuck outside the truck and the guys have their curtains open so they can watch for it and call me if they see it.

Five hours pass.  In that time, it had come out to eat at some point, the temperature dropped and the food froze and it started to snow again.  Finally, after a group of people I’d been waiting on showed up, the other guest calls me.  The kitten jumped out and is headed for the newly warmed engines.  I grab my coat and head out there with the can of food.

I’m too late.  It has already crawled up into one of the vans.  I only notice which one because of it’s fat little footprints in the snow.  I head back inside because this group of people are having a bit of a game-time and snack time in our breakfast bar.  One of the teenagers comes out with me with a key, its not for the right van.  She goes back in and comes back out a few minutes later with the right key and another guy.  We pop the hood and there’s the little baby looked dazed and confused right on top of the engine block.

Cutest, fluffiest little panther I’ve ever seen.

I was a dumbass and didn’t bring a towel with me and I wasn’t even wearing my gloves.  My hands are frozen and I’m shivering.  I dive and grab it behind the neck, but not well enough.  It bites into my first two fingers on my left hand.  I take the pain and try to sooth it.  I wrap it up in my coat and head inside, fingers oozing blood and covered in engine dirt.  It’s hissing a little bit, but not struggling.  It’s obviously a feral baby.

I get it inside, it runs to hide, I go to rinse off my bloody hands, throw some band aids on, and decide to tend to those later.  No big deal.  I get the sheriff’s department called because the local cat shelter is full and cannot take them, so unfortunately, I had to send this baby to the pound.  I hate that option, but with it being a small town, I’m sure someone will take the little one in.

The officer arrives, I relay the story to him, find a little box for the kitten, and set about trying to get it out of hiding.  I have to move a lot of things around in the office.  I get it grabbed, and I have a good grip on it this time.  It can’t move.  Then I make the grave mistake of trying to turn it around to place it in the box.  Terrified, it grabs a hold of my right index finger and clamps down.  I’m trying to relax my right hand so it will let go, trying to soothe it, trying not to move my finger because I know the more I struggle, the more it will bite.

It wouldn’t let go.  It just kept biting and clamping.  The officer runs back behind the desk and had to pry it’s mouth off of my hand.  All the while I am yelling curses because the pain is just too much at that point.  Because it’s teeth are still sunk into me, it’s not bleeding yet.  Once the officer took off and told me to get it checked out, I  go to the back and just start crying like a little pansy.

I’m not one for pain, blood, or needles.  I’m having a mini panic attack, feeling stupid for trying to rescue this kitten, and feeling like I’m going to pass out at any moment.  I text my fiance who is an amazing jack of all trades, really.  He is a volunteer firefighter and paramedic.  He tells me how to self treat it.  I find a big bottle of peroxide in our storage cabinet and luckily it has a squeeze top.  I drown my fingers in peroxide.  The bites are so painful I don’t even feel the burn of the chemical.  I just keep dousing and dousing.  My right index finger is swollen and red and purple.  I can’t move it and my whole right hand, for that matter, hurts.

Once I get home, my parents are awake because I told them about the whole fiasco.  Mom helps me bathe my finger in peroxide some more and then starts to squeeze the wound like I was instructed.  God, the squeezing was the worst.  Even my dog was so worried that I was being hurt he came to sit at my feet while I’m standing there getting my fingers squeezed.

I take some tylenol and head to bed.  Yeah.  I woke up and I still couldn’t move my finger.  It wasn’t as swollen as before, but god, it hurt.

So, after 3.5 hours in the hospital, two xrays (what ever the hell for???) two blood samples, and a giant bottle of anti-biotics later, I was released.  The doctor said that I was lucky that I didn’t have to be on an IV.  So, all that peroxide saved me from having to sit in the hospital for a day or longer hooked up to an IV, which, honestly, would have probably sent me into panic mode. I was already panicked enough that the first blood draw came out of my hand.  I keep looking at the scab for that one and wondering if I accidentally hit it if blood will spurt everywhere.

Like I sad, I’m afraid of blood.

Moral of the story?  Don’t try to save a kitten while you’re at work unless you’re going to be smart about it.  Cat bites can turn ugly pretty fast.  While my finger is doing much better now (writing this three days later), it still hurts to type or hold a pen correctly.  And I definitely can’t use my index finger when picking items up.

Be careful with kitties.  Their bites have ended in surgeries or worse.  So, if you get bit by a cat, don’t delay.  Clean that bitch up, go to the doctor.

Now, please enjoy a small slideshow of my injuries.

By All Means, Please Go Jump in the Empty Concrete Pit

Winter rolls in in the middle of the night while Autumn is still teasing us with her warm days and nights and cold breezes.  You think to yourself, I can go swimming one last time.

Then you realize it’s December and you’d rather cuddle under the blankets than step outside into the massive freezer that is Earth.

Thus is the reason why many hotels will shut down their pool areas during the winter.  Yes, even the indoor ones.  Why you ask?

Because hotels turn into The Shining in the winter and there are hardly any people there to justify keeping all of those pumps and water running for the occasional person who wants to freeze their nuts off in the pool, then kamikaze jump into the hot tub.  Plus, it’s nice to be able to clean up after a hard summer of unbathed children and adults getting into the pool and hot tub with their 12 hour drive funk.

“What do you mean your pool and hot tub are closed?”

“It’s winter.”

“But that’s when people want the hot tub the most!”

“I can rent you our three-room suite with a whirlpool tub if you need that.”

“No!  That’s too expensive.  God, is there ANYWHERE ELSE in this town that has a pool?”

“Only two other hotels have a pool, and they’re both outdoor and neither have a hot tub.  But they do have jacuzzi suites.  I’m sure they will be able to give you more information.”

“Well, we’ll just be moving along then.”

“Yes, have a good evening, good luck.”

I have this conversation with people almost nightly.  It’s ridiculous.  Yes, I realize that our pool is indoor, but the pool itself isn’t heated and even in September when it was still warm outside, barely anyone was in the pool.  It’s just not cost effective.  However, if you would like to see that our pool is “really closed,” by all means, I’ll let you go see the empty concrete pit that sits there.  I’m sure if you dump your water bottle over your head, it will stimulate the effects of me attempting to drown you in your precious chemical-filled water.

It’s hard to tell which is worse, people complaining that the pool is shut down due to bad weather, or people complaining that it is shut down in the winter.  This isn’t Texas where it’s warm most of the year.  This is Nebraska and sorry to say, it gets COLD here.

Have fun when you catch pneumonia, you prick.



Maybe this should be my comeback.  It’s been a while, maybe too long of a while.

Things in my life changed and I moved away from Texas and from Target and my life there.  Now I’m in Nebraska.  Oh Nebraska… what a cultural difference than being in Texas.  Not only that, but I’ll live in the snow, too, come winter.  That will be different for me.

So, I got away from retail, but I still work with guest service.  Now at a hotel in this small little town.  I haven’t decided on how secretive I will keep this one since the people I work with here are much more laid-back and less probe to sue me for defamation of corporate character.  Hell, short of drinking and being an asshole on the clock, they could care less if I came up here to hang out on my time off with a drink.  Not that I’m going to do that or anything, I have a bit more class than that, but I’m just trying to point out how awesome they are.

Working for a smaller company is usually much better than a big corporation.  Now, I miss it a bit.  Shopping there, and always having one available.  This town is so small that we don’t even have a tiny Wal Mart.  Culturally, I am dying a little on the inside, but I know that I can survive this.  This is the second time I’ve lived in Nebraska, but the last city I lived in was much bigger and had a Wal Mart and a few other chain restaurants that you could find in many other cities.

Anyway, I’ve been working at this hotel for a month and a half now.  I was incredibly lucky and managed to get this job three days after I moved here.  It made for my shortest unemployment period ever.  I was unemployed for six whole days.  Not only was I lucky with that, but I got lucky with my hours.  I work 40 hours a week and it’s wonderful.  I love the people here and I’m apparently pretty good at this job.  At least that’s what they said when everyone thought I was ready to be on my own after the first day.  No, thanks.  Some days I still feel pretty clueless at my job, but it’s a learning experience.

So, I’d mostly abandoned this blog out of sadness, confusion, and fear that maybe this wasn’t the right thing for me, but here I am, sitting at work, on my laptop because it is incredibly dead and I can do things like that here.  Here I sit thinking that I should pull this back up, because boy, I’ve already got some wonderful stories to tell.  About three weeks ago an almost guest called the cops on my manager and me.  That’s a fun story.

Prepare, readers, you’re about to get a whole new kind of Service Desk Jockey: The Hotel Service Desk Jockey.  I’ll give you a week.

Moving On

I know I have been very quiet the last few weeks and have not given you any delicious updates about any of my experiences at work.

The last month has been a very difficult one with me.  My girlfriend of two and a half years and I broke up.  We came to the realization that neither of us were ready for the serious path our relationship was taking and that we weren’t communicating any of our issues the proper way and they were popping up again and again as unresolved issues.

While my heart is terribly broken, I realize this is the better option for the both of us.  I still love her and I know she still loves me, however a relationship between the two of us is not meant to be at this point in time.

Now, with all of that said, tears pricking your eyes, I must also state that because of this break up, I am moving, which also means I had to quit my job.  I’m making a very big move and because I’m moving to a much, much smaller town, I could not transfer.

However, I’m not totally bent out of shape about that.  What I am bent out of shape about is the fact that my managers knew about my break up and knew that I might have to make a quick decision and leave and I was marked down as nonrehirable within the company.

If you stay tuned in the next few weeks, I will finally tell you what retailer I worked for.  I’m sure most of you probably have it figured out, I didn’t exactly make it hard to figure out, either.

For now I am working hard on packing all of my things to leave in just a few days.  Packing away the life you made in two and a half years is very hard emotionally and physically.


See you guys on the flipside, eh?

Rise From the Corn Fields–Err, Ashes…

I am back!  Sorry I took a bit of a break, there.  I definitely needed the break from work and home and whatnot.  I enjoyed visiting my parents and seeing their new house.  The best parts of the trip were the Celestial Seasonings Tea Factory in Boulder, Colorado and the Petrified Wood Museum in the small town in Nebraska that my parents live in.

This trip marked my very first plane ride.  I was excited and nervous, though I ended up really, really liking it.  I pretty much want to fly everywhere possible now.  However, that requires money and I work part-time in retail.  Not gonna happen anytime soon.  Not with bills and whatnot.  Damn, why do people always want money from you?

We left early Friday morning and almost missed our flight because I had printed our tickets at home and left them there.  We were about ten minutes from the airport and it takes about an hour to get there from our house.  Thankfully we had left pretty early so when we got back, we managed to get through security with about two minutes to spare.  Needless to say, we were even more tired when we got on the plane.  My girlfriend fell asleep for most of the short two hour flight and I stayed awake entranced by being so high in the sky.

I was off of work for six days and it was wonderful.  Very, very wonderful.  I went back to work yesterday, and well, you shall see over the next post or two how that went for me.

However, until then, I hope you’re not too terribly mad at me for disappearing and I do hope that I haven’t lost anyone, either.  I’d be so unhappy if that were the case.  And if you’re new to my blog, welcome!  I’m glad to have you aboard.

Tweets Are Non-Returnable

Well my pretties, it seems it dawned on me today that it would be a brilliant idea to start a twitter account for my blog.  To give you some more updates about my life behind the big desk.

Sometimes I’m sneaky and ‘bad’ and keep my phone on my at work.  Okay, so maybe that’s every day, but that’s not the point.  You see, with this, you might get some up-to-the-minute updates on the latest Douchebag Supreme that’s told me off for not accepting the iPad they opened and kicked around a few times.

You can follow me at srvdeskjockey for all of the ooey gooeyness of it all.  There’s not much there at the moment, but don’t let that scare you!  There shall be bloo– uh, gossip!