Sunday Madness
You know when get that feeling something crazy about to happen. Well it did in this estrogen madhouse, I guess the universe decides to test my sanity. It's Sunday, after all the college football homecoming game and activities left us with 100 checkouts. One-freaking-hundred. The Shake Back Inn had shook back and sold out this weekend.
It's 11:30 AM, and we're busting our asses like never before. Sweat's pouring down my back as Im taking my third load of dirty sheets and towels down to the laundry room. Theirs only one elevator working and it’s jammed with guests who were leaving, so we either wait for the elevator or take the stairs. I'm taking the stairs. I grab a load of linen and three floors down, three floors up, over and over. My legs feel like jelly, but I keep pushing.
Tyler? He's actually working for once, probably because there's nowhere to hide. I see him struggling with an overflowing linen cart, his face red and puffy. "This is bull….., man," he yells as he passes me in the hallway. For once, I agree with him.
The housekeepers are running around like headless chickens, yelling in a mix of English and Spanish at each other. The front desk is a war zone of angry guests and a surprised staff. And there we are, in the middle of it all, just trying to keep up with the tsunami of dirty linens.
Just as I'm about to grab another load, I hear it. That squeaky voice coming through the walkie talkie that makes my skin crawl.
"Attention housekeeper supervisors and maintenance personnel! Emergency meeting in the lobby conference room, NOW!"
It's the GM, our boss, standing there in her pressed jeans skirt suit, not a hair out of place. I took a look at my watch. 11:45 AM. Meeting. Are you kidding me?
We all made it to the lobby, I’m a sweaty, stressed-out mess. And then she says this crap:
Hotel manager: "I've noticed that maintenance tasks aren't getting done in a timely manner? "We need to discuss how to improve our efficiency."
I feel the frustration brewing inside me. The room starts to spin. All I can see is red.
Here we are, the only two maintenance men killing ourselves helping your housekeeper’s clean up after a weekend of hundredths of partying college kids, and you have a housekeeper supervisor and assistant walking around with clipboards trying to find us things to do. So she has the nerve to call us out? Now? In the middle of the busiest checkout I've ever seen?
I bald my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I'm about to go off. I can feel it building up inside me, ready to explode like a volcano.
To be continued...