Friday, May 7, 2010
Does everyone understand where I'm at right now? Not a good place. Something good better happen today or the Mitsubishi is hitting the long trail home.
The hubby is encouraging me to stay. Why not? He has the house to himself. The wife isn't there to give him the evil eye while he piles mail, empty mugs, and assorted garbage around his chair. Fifteen or twenty minutes of conversation a day is all he has to put up with before he can go back to what he likes to do....watching war movies and sleeping in his recliner.
I miss my back yard. I miss sleeping in my own bed. I even miss useless lap kitty. I promise that if I can go home, I will clean and cook and be a good girl. Shit. Who am I kidding? That would last a day tops. If I go home, I have to find a job. I have to tell everyone why I didn't make it six months. It would be like signing up for the military. The family gives you a party. Your friends slap you on the back. There are flags and cheering and tearful good-byes. Then you creep home six weeks later. You've been kicked out of the Army. You weren't good enough. You couldn't make it through training. Everyone knows you are a loser. Big "L" on your forehead. Even the guy who bags groceries and can't tie his own shoes knows you're a loser.
Maybe I could get a job at the Super 8 Motel in Gardiner. I hear they give you a motel room to live in. That wouldn't be so bad. I wouldn't have a room mate. It can't be as high pressure as this. I could pretend to be working in Yellowstone Park. Heck, I'd only be a quarter mile from the north gate. You can find all the information you need about the park on the internet. You all wouldn't know.
I could make a few friends. Other losers like myself who have no place to go and no one who cares where they are. We could become family. Spend the holidays together over microwaved meals and cheap screw top wine. It could be fun. There could be plenty of material there for a book. It might make a good movie. Who could play my part? Older movie stars are dying for good rolls. Sally Fields isn't tall enough. Maybe Candace Bergen.
The first day at the Old Faithful Inn wasn't bad. I checked in people without causing my managers to gather in the corner to point and stare at me.
They were so happy with me, I got to go home early to let other people work who needed more practice. At least that's what they said.
Maybe they just wanted to get rid of me before the rush hit.
No, I'm going with the smiley face version that I did fine, that they love me, and that I'm the best darn front desk person they have ever had. At least the best front desk person that $7.75 an hour can buy.
So, I'm still here. I haven't packed the car. I'll go back to work tomorrow.
I'm wearing ear plugs to bed to drown out the room mate and the kids walking past my dorm from the employee pub. That's another story for another day.