#whydoiworkhere

"You're just kinda.... shitty."

Me: You've come to the right place.

Serious discussion going on with my boss. He suddenly starts barking like a dog. Then proceeds to hand me some papers and go on with his work. This man has a doctorate. 

Me: Hang on one sec. *strangles self with phone cord*

Security took another 15 minutes to get here and kick the guy out, the whole time we were waiting he was hitting on all three of the employees at the desk, and as shown above, he was being pretty raunchy.

My manager then offered to move him and to send housekeeping up and ended up giving him like $50 off of his room rate, he responded by telling her that "this hotel is going to die!"

I work at a country club and I have the luxurious job of serving fried food to people at the pool. It's ironic because all the rich moms and their kids constantly try to watch their diets. My hours are entirely dependent on the weather. If it's raining and no one is at the pool, I don't have to come into work. However, today is special: the club I work at has it's own swim team and every Tuesday they have swim meets in an outdoor pool. These meets are independent of the weather and these little kids swim their asses off in hail if they have to while their parents cheer from the sidelines. Then after each race the parents come into the buffet area, run and managed by people my age, and consistently tell us how bad or good we're doing at our job and how ridiculous it is that we charge $3 for a piece of garlic bread. All we can do is shrug and tell them "we're sorry, we don't make the rules, but we will accommodate your wishes as best as we can." because you make 6 figures a year and I aspire to be as successful as you one day. In order for our staff to get ready for these meets, we have to make sure plenty of food is stocked for hundreds of people, make sure coffee is hot, pastas are buttered, utensils are on the right side of the buffet table, and the table cloths are whiter and snow. We have to put in requests for all our food and materials to be brought down from the kitchen so we can set it up before our swim meet in one hour from now. No one is here to help us make food, tell us what to do, or even call and check to make sure we're doing our jobs. So I'm writing this now as a way to kill time before I face the wrath of a hundred angry, much wealthier than mine, parents because their little Alexa won't get enough carbs before her race. The faucet next to me has been dripping for the last half hour and there's no way to turn it off. I've heard the same song on the radio 7 times And my coworker is cradling a ketchup bag the size of one of those large flower bags your parents got on their home economics class during their "child care" unit. This is a slow day at work