Have I mentioned how Sunday has really become one of my least favourite days of the week? Wisely, my supervisor has put me down for Sunday's because she wants the best on duty and that happens to be be...frighteningly enough. While I don't begrudge working a weekend day – over the summer, I was quite lucky to ONLY have to work a Saturday or Sunday because all the other housekeeping staff had to do BOTH days which sucks cause as you can imagine, those are the busiest, most work heavy days.
For me that means it's literally a feeding frenzy as people take to the first meal of the day as if it were their last, consuming enough coffee to choke....well....something really large, like whale. Oh and the juice they consume...and eggs...my god...who wants to travel with someone who's had five hard boiled eggs for brekkie? Not me! As if the feeding weren't enough, there's not only a lot of them, but they like to linger. Which really only stretches the feeding but otherwise, I don't care if they linger while i'm breaking down and cleaning up. Just don't get snippy with me when I politely inform you that the vacuum is loud.
Even in the off season, the weekends can prove to be busy – not balls to the wall like in the summer but just enough to irritate the soul. Mine started off quiet. Too quiet. Nobody was waiting for fresh coffee...which was weird. With breakfast all set up, I found myself with very little action going on and plenty of time to go between getting other things done and bs'ing with the morning clerk. I wondered if I'd hallucinated seeing a full parking lot and then it happened. They came, they saw, they started to feed. Luckily on the breakfast put out rather than on me.
I was wandering the room, tidying up when he came in like a sort of jovial super star, greeting people with a raucous “How ya'll doin'?” which was odd considering he walked around proclaiming to be a West Coaster....at least ten times that I could hear. Seems that was like pushing start and there was no pausing or shutting this guy up. He went nuts over the spread and pounced upon the waffles...well..more like, pounced the general area, talking nonstop about how he couldn't figure it out and just blabbing away, almost nonsensically over the person who was talking him through how to fill a cup with batter while in constant motion, kinda hopping on the balls of his feet at this point. I was by his side, directing how to pour it into the iron and flip it after closing. I thought I rather clearly stated that in a few minutes, it would beep to let him know it was ready. Disappearing into the kitchen, I heard his continued greetings, talking about the Raider's being on this afternoon, when's his waffle going to be done....the man would NOT shut up.
And then...he peeked into my kitchen and came bounding in, happily chattering away about how he's from the West Coast, the Raider's are on this afternoon, oh, and when's his waffle going to be ready...oh, and he's just peeking around to see what I have to offer. Honestly, I could feel that one last nerve I have on reserve just fraying right before my very eyes. (ok, we'll ignore the fact that it's disturbing and kinda gross that this nerve is where *I* can see it.) Peering into the freezer, he noticed the eggs and sausage and went all nuts with like....maniacal glee, “Hey, yo, are those biscuits? Can you fix me one of those egg things on a english muffin like at McD's?” came the question as he hopped around looking through my fridge before studying the coffee maker. Why I have these things is beyond the scope of this post but nonetheless, I politely explained I wasn't setup to do that kind of prep...not to mention...if I hand make one brekkie sandwich for someone, I’d suddenly have 20+ more people wanting one too.
So finally, his waffle machine goes off and he's bouncing around trying to pluck it free with his bare fingers before I point out the fork, which helps. A last round about the Raiders, where's the syrup, how about some butter and then....bliss! It was suddenly very quiet.
I saw this gentleman several more times over the morning – always cheery and bouncy...and vaguely greeting as if he'd never seen me before. And while I like cheery, in this industry – a cheery guest is generally a good thing. You know, so long as they're not happy cause the place is set to blow or they've taken a tv home. The hyperactive bouncing? It was a bit much for me.
So yes, while he was pretty nice and all kinds of cheerful – that boy was either tweaking big time or had a majorly undiagnosed Adult ADHD.
It kinda made my day.
AND inspired this post.
Boosh!
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