Cate's Ten Commandments of Hotel Stays

Vacation season is upon us. And by "upon us," I mean, "MY HOTEL IS FULL OF PEOPLE OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG SAVE ME."

And while this is a great thing for the hotel (and my paycheck, sort of), it's not always a great thing for the staff, because most people don't actually know how to travel effectively. So in lieu of an actual writing-related post, I thought I'd make a list of things I wish people knew about hotels/travel/and whatever else I think of. It's a public service. You'll thank me later.

Cate's Ten Commandments of Hotel Stays

1. It is our job to be nice to you. This is the one most people (and by people, I mean men) don't seem to grasp. My being nice to you does not mean I'm flirting. It does not mean I want to come up to your room later (fireable offense, just so you know). It also does not mean you can treat me like the pile of flaming dog crap your neighbors' kids left on your porch. I am not your verbal punching bag or your sounding board. Just because I can't talk back to you doesn't mean I won't be stewing about it for the rest of the night (or maybe even the rest of the week). My paycheck is enough of an insult. Be respectful.
2. We're people too. Regarding the above, we understand bad days. We have them ourselves, and sometimes we screw up. This may mean we've checked you into a not-yet-clean room. It may mean one of the housekeepers forgot to put bags in your trash can. At my property, we strive for perfection, but we don't always get there. Flaming dog crap happens.
3. We'll try to rectify the situation if you tell us there's a problem. We can't fix what we don't know about. Loud kids on or above your floor? Toilet broken? Air conditioning not working? Let us know so we can do something about it.
4. Your reservation guarantees a room, not a room type. This is a touchy one, and not a policy I'm a huge fan of. However, flaming dog crap happens, especially during the upcoming busy season. Especially on sell-out nights (Murphy's law, every time). Unfortunately, we can't--yet--control what other people do (surely there's an app for that), so they might completely ruin a room. Or they may decide to stay over a night or two, thus throwing our room inventory out of whack. We get oversold on room types a lot, and we try so very very very hard to accommodate, but it doesn't always work in our favor.
5. A little courtesy goes a long way. My favorite guests are the ones who interact with me. Tell me a story or have a conversation; don't just stare down your nose or act completely disinterested. The fun guests are the guests whose names I remember (every damn time they're here), and the ones I'll bend over backward to make happy (not literally, I am not that flexible). Be nice to me, I'll move the stars for you.
6. We hear about what we've screwed up a lot more often than what we've done right. You have no idea how much it brightens our days to hear what we've done right. If you've had a great stay, if the staff has gone above and beyond your expectations, please shout it from the rooftops, or tell the General Manager. Or at the very very least, fill out a comment card. We love letting the corporate offices know we're not a bunch of screw-ups.
7. It's not always fun and games. I know most of the time, the people in hotels (front desk staff especially) are depicted doing absolutely nothing. I mean, I'm blogging right now, so we do have a significant amount of downtime. Most days. However, those Murphy's Law days get us like you wouldn't believe. I have left my job in tears before. I have sworn never to come back. I have dealt with attempted suicides, diabetic seizures, angry spouses, angry guests, people who are out to make sure I have a bad day. I have cried with families. I've worried about families with kids at Children's Hospital. Some days, I've been therapist. We wear many hats.
8. An easy stay for you means a ton of work for us. I liken hotel staff to theater staff. It takes a ton of work to make sure everything runs smoothly for a guest. We like to be appreciated. A kind word or gesture might make the difference between someone quitting and someone staying on.
9. Clean up after thyself/thy children. At my hotel, we have a section set up for hot beverages--coffee, tea, hot chocolate. Most of the time, there's minimal mess, which is a nice thing. However, there are days when the entire damn thing looks like it's exploded. There's hot chocolate mix everywhere, cream and sugar are creating sticky globular messes on the counter. And I look at it with a mix of white hot hatred and overwhelming sadness because the adults messed my counter up. Don't get me started on the kids.
   
   
10. I am not a babysitter. Parents, if you decide to chaperon a trip, for the love of God, CHAPERON THE TRIP. It makes things a lot more difficult for desk staff and other guests if we have to corral your children because you're downstairs drinking, especially when I have 200 other people to be taking care of. 

Please keep these things in mind while you're traveling this summer. I'm half-tempted to print this out and post it... Hmm....

Happy travels <3

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Few people understand the difficulties of being a surviving twin. Fewer understand that sometimes it's hard to cope with knowing that someone who should be there isn't, and even though you've never met him, he's a massive part of your life.

I've been thinking about him all day today. A phone conversation with my mom sparked it, and the flame hasn't gone out yet. It might take the rest of the night, or even the rest of the week for my mind to settle back into the groove of being half. It's hard. It's really hard.

I have no idea how to cope. I've never known how to cope. But even with all the long talks I've had with my mother, and the therapy I kinda went through in high school (for a completely separate incident; and that, BTW, is how I found out about my brother), and the soul-searching and wondering and crying and anger...I still haven't really come to terms with the fact that this other part of me, this half that I've never even met, is still gone and isn't coming back. I've never seen his face, never heard his voice, never smelled his cologne or teased him or hugged him, and he affects everything I do every day. I finally realized that I can't live life for us both, but dammit, I'm going to try. And I try too hard, and I fail, and then I get upset. Because I can't do it for us both when I can barely do it for me.

When something weighs this heavily, maybe it's a good idea to try to get some of it out... I don't know. All I know is that it's hard. Especially when my mom brings it up so flippantly. Especially when she waited until I was 15 to tell me, and told me during a therapy session. With my therapist, whom she started seeing WITH me for some unknown (i.e. forgotten) reason. My mom and I do everything together, even therapy, apparently.

What started all this? Today, nonchalantly, she said, "Guess what your father told me today?"

With my dad, it could be any number of things. Funny things, strange things, sad things... "What?"

"He told me that one night when you were 3, he was rocking you, and you looked up at him and asked him where your brother was."

Pang of sorrow, ache of regret.

"And he said, 'Honey, you have a sister. You don't have a brother."

You don't have a brother.

"And you said, 'Yes I do. Where is he?'"

I sat in a stunned silence. How could I know at 3 and then not know until I was 15? And HOW could they not tell me about him for 12 years?!

She droned on about him while I fought back tears, making small comments to push the conversation away from him. But nothing would dull the ache that I'd no doubt carry with me throughout the rest of the day. Rest of the week. Rest of my life.

My life. His life. Even without him physically here, our lives were still as intertwined as they'd have been had he survived.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...

Two lives separated by happenstance.

And sorry I could not travel both...

Sorry I couldn't have you and life, too...

Sorry that you couldn't experience what I feel, see, hear, smell...

Love, sorrow, hope, beauty, emptiness.

I miss you.

yeah, about that...

all that stuff i said a few days ago? yeah...scratch that. it no longer really applies.

after the bells and whistles *and currently, the curiosity about what in the world my neighbors are actually doing* and the glamor wore off, i realized what i'd gotten myself into and that it would completely obliterate any dreams i have about actually writing EVER, let alone getting published. i write 10 minutes a day, in the morning, before i go into the office. and serious writers know that it takes far more than 10 minutes a day to be able to write an entire novel, edit, query, etc. i've barely touched revisions for what i'm querying *i'm gonna be screwed if i actually get a request*. i haven't been able to finish the critique i promised a friend. i'm just...well, i'm just incredibly behind. and exhausted. and frustrated. and already looking for a new job.

also, i apparently need physical therapy for BOTH shoulders rather than just the left one. got back from urgent care about half an hr ago with prescriptions i can't afford to fill and the idea of completely un-affordable physical therapy on top of that. the muscles in my right shoulder are spasming and knotted to complement the impingement in my left shoulder. this is all exhausting. i just want to be able to relax and enjoy my life. stupid working... 6 days a week is just more than i can handle. maybe i'm weak, and maybe i really am lazy *i'm not, i'm just productive differently from other people, also people confuse procrastination and laziness*. i don't know. all i know is that i've set out to make writing my true career, and i don't abide well with sales or with things that interfere with said goal. so i'm applying elsewhere and hoping i land an 8-5 job with benefits and weekends off. i miss having a life. or at least having 2 days off.f

frustration...

ugh. the world has opened up a can of whoop-@$$ on me. but that's ok.

apart from that, i'm venturing into more uncharted territory for myself: the world of paranormal thrillers. i have an idea that i'm beginning to develop *because i just can't push myself to finish this ONE CHAPTER before i start querying again, and i think it's a mental block of "omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg, i'm scared."* so yeah. i'm subconsciously holding myself back. at any rate, i feel totally nuts thanks to the required research for the new idea, which would be serial killers... i'm looking for a distinct pattern. so i'm making myself play detective, and the internet can only take me so far...

i'm making myself finish chapter 9 before i venture out into the world of new ideas. lately i've been so frustrated with non-writing things, that it's sucked the joy out of writing. i'm pushing my pen to the end, a forced labor of love, i guess. and then i'm going to hit querying again. i'm on the verge of a great letter, so...yee haw. right now, though, i just want to go to sleep and have things be right when i wake up... ugh.

so, i say to you that if you know anyone who sells avon in the cincinnati, oh area, please warn them of marybryan77@yahoo.com or any variation of that email address. this is a scam artist who will ask for products, send you way too much for them (usually $1350) and then ask you to send the remainder back. the check is NO GOOD. please pass this on if you can. because this "lady" needs to be caught.

i need the adam walsh of catching scam artists to get on this case...

*headdesk*

pet peeves. all of them exploding on my head today. so so so so so so so ready to be off! 43 more minutes! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasiogawuerhfg

first pet peeve, and most important: lack of simple respect for another human being. won't go into detail b/c it's not my business, but suffice it to say that when a slutty man *yes, i said it* accuses a girl of being a whore after telling her HOW MANY GIRLS HE'S SLEPT WITH WHILE THEY WERE SLEEPING TOGETHER, my angry button gets pushed. repeatedly. and i can do nothing about it.

second pet peeve: my friends getting screwed over. way too much to type about each situation, but generally, it seems that the universe is crapping on my friends. a false arrest for one, a job loss for another, the above douchery, and one more in a relationship that isn't what she wants right now. all kinds of sadness.

third pet peeve: asking me to do what's out of my control. i try to bend over backwards for people to help them out. it's just who i am and i can't change it *i've tried, believe me, because it gets taxing after a while*, and they just won't work with me. so yeah. just a teensy bit frustrated at the moment. sometimes i feel like becoming nathaniel hawthorne and locking myself in an attic to write. i could get a mini-fridge... a microwave... radio... yeah. that sounds good.

this wasn't the original post. my original post was of all the stupid stuff that went awry YESTERDAY. i want this week to end...

*headdesk*