100 Reasons To Not Kill Yourself #22.

I think that even though humanity is pretty much tearing itself to ribbons theses days over impeachment, whether or not Trudeau is a douchebag, and the Peloton commercial, humanity can still agree on three things:

1.  Moving to a new living space can be ridiculously-stressful.
2.  Working for a living can wear your soul to a nub. (Yes, the metaphor works. Shut up.)
3.  Cats are evil.

So can you imagine combining the stress of a move with the already-soul-crushing chaos of the workplace? I can, because I’m living it. And so here we are.

#22: Workplace Chaos.

The hotel is in the midst of the biggest renovation since Odysseus decided to turn a Greek child’s hobby horse into a hangout for him and his pals. Among all the other (greatly delayed) projects going on throughout this building we’ve moved into a brand-spanking new lobby that reminds me of the Northern Pikes tune, “She Ain’t Pretty” (She Just Looks That Way).

I’m not suggesting our new lobby is a disaster; it’s bright, shiny and has many smooth, sleek lines and cool features. I wish it was my high school girlfriend.

But like many a high school hookup, we moved too fast and now we’re facing the consequences. Of course, in this case the consequences aren’t a bouncing bundle of joy and full diapers. Instead, we’re dealing with desks that aren’t as user-friendly as possible, darkened corners (like where my desk sits, naturally), construction workers drilling through floors without consulting blueprints and a gazillion other minor issues that when combined, make you want to find another version of yourself in the Multiverse whose life you can co-opt.

Any move has it’s challenges. It takes time to acclimate oneself to a living/work space, and let’s face it, most of us consider our workspace a second living space, even though a workspace drains your will to live rather than enhancing it.

But I  just worked against my own premise, didn’t I?

Please allow me to recover if I can. Serving the public in any capacity isn’t easy to say the least. People can be rude; they’ve actually spit on me. (And I wasn’t ablaze at the time.) People can be sneaky; I caught a guy creeping into the hotel through an employee door yesterday so he could steal a luggage cart – even though he had already requested the doorman fetch him a bellman.

In short, people are nuts.

So trust me when I tell you no one survives for over twenty years in the hospitality industry without being able to process a steady diet of chaos. You even learn to savor the flavor eventually. (Even bad pizza is still pizza.)

I observe. Then I mock.

The other day I sat back at my desk and watched as every manager, administration-level worker, construction worker and even a guest or ten, stood around our new lobby and scrutinized every detail from the placement of flashing ceiling lights to whether or not our luggage carts should be chained up to prevent guests from absconding with them. (Guess how I voted?) Workers were scrambling back and forth, managers and owners were discussing just how much all this aesthetic beauty actually costs (the figures are staggering). People with no authority were ordering others around. There were no evil cats around but it was still mass hysteria dialed up to eleven. The cacophony of voices built to a deafening crescendo and all the while I thought: 

“Ronnie would’ve loved this.”

And he would’ve. Ronnie lived for those moments of complete and utter human madness. We’d sit at our desk and drink it all in like a fine wine. I’d return from a luggage call and he’d be all, “Hook, my brother Hook, you should’ve seen it. So-and-so was down here throwing her weight around, slinging orders like a crazed waitress at a greasy spoon. Three bus tours have shown up at once. It was nuts! I love every second.”

You really do get used to the challenge of surviving wave after wave of interoffice political battles, guests on a tear about the simplest of issues, and every other surprise the universe has in store that you could never see coming. In fact, you learn to see that such situations can help us grow, they can even make us stronger if we process them correctly. 

It’s all a matter of perspective, kids.

Ronnie had the right idea. Until other factors became too much to handle he knew the score and we had ringside seats for the never-ending stream of  hotel donnybrooks.

Ronnie’s gone but the chaos remains.

Thank Dog.

See you in the lobby, friends…