the strange planet inside my head
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what a pisser
The owner has tried three times this evening to get a hold of me. He tried to coerce my (private) cell phone number from Miss Thang, but that wasn’t happening. I have nothing to say (yet) and no desire to say it to him on my day off. Leave a message, I’ll get back to you.
*
The six good ole’ boys from a way Southern state that I took under my wing got into a bit of shitola last night. At 5AM (or was it four? With the hour change I have no clue) I made my way downstairs to set the time clock. Antonino, our weekend boy, was STILL wired.
Now, these good ole’ boys are from the backwoods, and their accent is so thick sometimes it’s difficult to understand them. When they get drunk (which is every single night) it makes it VERY difficult. Anyway, this weekend was NUTZ. Insane. Certifiable. We were invaded by locals, and seven rooms were trashed and the hot tub and pool are shut down. But I digress.
These boyz are far from home, have been far from home for a long time, and I’m sure miss their families. They like to party down. They’ll be here for six months or more, and I cut them a real sweet deal and a lot of slack for that very reason. Anyway, one of the younger members snuck into the hot tub after hours, and Antonino chased him out. (You can’t have people in the hot tub after hours, especially not during a ‘local’ weekend nutfuck.) After the third time, he kicked him and the three rooms of guys out. (One for all, all for one.)
Well, the boss man came in this morning and apologized to Gem, and she let them back in.
This afternoon, I’m cleaning the back bedroom and look out the window. One of the guys is barbequing from the back of his truck, and he’s swigging beer, swaying, and playing with fire. As I’m watching, he walks over to the tire of the truck, takes out his wanger, and starts taking a leak. Even worse, he sticks it back in his pants and starts handling the *other* meat.
*GAG*
I hightail it downstairs and warn Miss Thang not to accept any meat from these guys. (Stop snickering.) Then, I see one of the crew, Peewee, and start heading in that direction. I stop and talk to Peewee a minute about what happened last night, and in walks Mr. Pisser. I pointed at him and said hey! You! Over here.
Big guy. Drunk as a hoot owl. Dressed in bib overalls, a red ball cap, and a trusty can in his hand. He says, “Yesmam?”
“No more pissing in the parking lot.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “You saw that?”
“Yes, and so did the kids and their parents that are staying here. What the hell were you thinking?” (Peewee is actually looking appalled.)
“Uh, I’m sorry ma’am. I apologize. I’m really sorry.” *burp*
“And did you wash your hands?” I have my hands on my hips, suppressing the urge to bitch-slap this guy upside his head.
“Yes ma’am, I did. I went straight to the bathroom.” (Oh my god, okay? Such bullshit. His hands are ENCRUSTED with….I don’t even want to know.)
“If you went straight to the bathroom to wash your hands, why didn’t you piss there too?” (Peewee is snorting right now, trying to keep a straight face.)
“You know, I thought of that when I got in there, but I don’t think I coulda made it.”
“Next time, you’d better.” I looked at Peewee and I wasn’t smiling. I’m sure he got the message.
“Really sorry, ma’am. Kin I have a hug?” and the jackass is actually leering.
“Nope. That doesn’t come with the room.”
*
Tomorrow should be interesting. Hellfire, the whole week should be a hoot and a half. I have my own timeline in my head, but we’ll see what happens. I had a long talk yesterday with Mista Gee, Buddy’s 2nd in command, and mah Posse is hard on my azz. Oh, they want me to stay, but Mista Gee gets it. He’s a smart, smart guy. Tall and thin, big brown eyes that can look mighty thugged when he’s trippin. I like him a lot. I can see a brilliant mind in there, trapped by circumstance and honed by experience and survival. This is his first job and he’s in his late 20’s. His eyes are older than that by at least thirty years.
It’s sad. They are all so proud of what they’ve done here, and they should be. I am very, very proud of each and every person on this staff. Even the crazy, bitchy laundry lady. Every one of them takes pride in their work, does the best job they can, and always remembers they’re part of a bigger whole. I have never, in all my years of working, ever worked with such a wonderful bunch of people, and a huge part of my heart will break when I walk out these doors.
*
I’ll stick it out as long as I can. I owe them that much.
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
*
The six good ole’ boys from a way Southern state that I took under my wing got into a bit of shitola last night. At 5AM (or was it four? With the hour change I have no clue) I made my way downstairs to set the time clock. Antonino, our weekend boy, was STILL wired.
Now, these good ole’ boys are from the backwoods, and their accent is so thick sometimes it’s difficult to understand them. When they get drunk (which is every single night) it makes it VERY difficult. Anyway, this weekend was NUTZ. Insane. Certifiable. We were invaded by locals, and seven rooms were trashed and the hot tub and pool are shut down. But I digress.
These boyz are far from home, have been far from home for a long time, and I’m sure miss their families. They like to party down. They’ll be here for six months or more, and I cut them a real sweet deal and a lot of slack for that very reason. Anyway, one of the younger members snuck into the hot tub after hours, and Antonino chased him out. (You can’t have people in the hot tub after hours, especially not during a ‘local’ weekend nutfuck.) After the third time, he kicked him and the three rooms of guys out. (One for all, all for one.)
Well, the boss man came in this morning and apologized to Gem, and she let them back in.
This afternoon, I’m cleaning the back bedroom and look out the window. One of the guys is barbequing from the back of his truck, and he’s swigging beer, swaying, and playing with fire. As I’m watching, he walks over to the tire of the truck, takes out his wanger, and starts taking a leak. Even worse, he sticks it back in his pants and starts handling the *other* meat.
*GAG*
I hightail it downstairs and warn Miss Thang not to accept any meat from these guys. (Stop snickering.) Then, I see one of the crew, Peewee, and start heading in that direction. I stop and talk to Peewee a minute about what happened last night, and in walks Mr. Pisser. I pointed at him and said hey! You! Over here.
Big guy. Drunk as a hoot owl. Dressed in bib overalls, a red ball cap, and a trusty can in his hand. He says, “Yesmam?”
“No more pissing in the parking lot.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “You saw that?”
“Yes, and so did the kids and their parents that are staying here. What the hell were you thinking?” (Peewee is actually looking appalled.)
“Uh, I’m sorry ma’am. I apologize. I’m really sorry.” *burp*
“And did you wash your hands?” I have my hands on my hips, suppressing the urge to bitch-slap this guy upside his head.
“Yes ma’am, I did. I went straight to the bathroom.” (Oh my god, okay? Such bullshit. His hands are ENCRUSTED with….I don’t even want to know.)
“If you went straight to the bathroom to wash your hands, why didn’t you piss there too?” (Peewee is snorting right now, trying to keep a straight face.)
“You know, I thought of that when I got in there, but I don’t think I coulda made it.”
“Next time, you’d better.” I looked at Peewee and I wasn’t smiling. I’m sure he got the message.
“Really sorry, ma’am. Kin I have a hug?” and the jackass is actually leering.
“Nope. That doesn’t come with the room.”
*
Tomorrow should be interesting. Hellfire, the whole week should be a hoot and a half. I have my own timeline in my head, but we’ll see what happens. I had a long talk yesterday with Mista Gee, Buddy’s 2nd in command, and mah Posse is hard on my azz. Oh, they want me to stay, but Mista Gee gets it. He’s a smart, smart guy. Tall and thin, big brown eyes that can look mighty thugged when he’s trippin. I like him a lot. I can see a brilliant mind in there, trapped by circumstance and honed by experience and survival. This is his first job and he’s in his late 20’s. His eyes are older than that by at least thirty years.
It’s sad. They are all so proud of what they’ve done here, and they should be. I am very, very proud of each and every person on this staff. Even the crazy, bitchy laundry lady. Every one of them takes pride in their work, does the best job they can, and always remembers they’re part of a bigger whole. I have never, in all my years of working, ever worked with such a wonderful bunch of people, and a huge part of my heart will break when I walk out these doors.
*
I’ll stick it out as long as I can. I owe them that much.
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
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