I Know Why Mary J. Blige Cries Thursday, October 24, 2002

I'm trying to convince BJ to let me have a dog.  My mom's chihuahua just had puppies and I am willing to haul my lonely ass all the way to Texas to get one.  This is going to take major convincing on my part b/c both he and my mom are convinced that a small dog would die under my care.  Now, I won't even front and pretend to deny that I tend to be a little carefree @ times.  Yes, my robo-dog technically died b/c I forgot to replace it's batteries.  Yes, the feirce weight of my TV accidentally crashing onto its head might have also had something to do with its demise, as well.    Fine, whatever.  It's New York City!  The puppy would have WAY more fun with me here than it'd have growing up in Texas.  I'd take his cute little Mexican self for walks in Central Park and it could get his game on with the cute little pugs on the Upper West Side (they'd love his whole little "Yo Quiero Taco Bell" schtick).  Hell, he can even chill with the gay poodles in the Village if that's what floats his boat.  The point is, he will be free here.  He deserves this freedom.  He deserves this chance.  And I deserve to make it happen for him.  Come, little dog.  Come and get your love.

So my training officially ended on Wednesday.  This means that I am now legit and expected to like, know shit.  We spent most of the last training day behind the front desk, checking ppl in and out, and learning bits and peices as we went along.  It was exactly what I'd been hoping we'd do --- I actually wish we'd started it much sooner, but alas I'll quit bitching and suck it up.  Everybody keeps saying that I'm going to be fine and that it'll take time for me to gain confidence in all that madness, they like to keep assuring me that I'll make plenty of mistakes but that it's ok b/c that's how I'll learn.  It's really comforting and all, but we'll see how cool they are when I start fucking up credit card charges and accidentally booking guests into occupied rooms.  Heh... no really, it's gonna happen.  Especially b/c I'm working the evening shifts Friday and Saturday night.  This is when the Hudson really gets crazy --- the music starts blasting, the bar is open, and the lobby basically becomes a nightclub.  A lot of ppl really like working this shift, they like the club-like atmosphere in the lobby, they like being in the center of it all.  But not me.  When I close my eyes, all I see are the angry faces of jet-lagged businessmen swarmed around the front desk, demanding to be checking into their room immdeiately.  All I I hear are the indecipherable accents of snooty eurotrash guests, disputing mini-bar charges and refusing to pay for a room upgrade.  All I feel is the heat rushing to my ears as I stare down @ the computer screen, searching frantically for the passcode to undo what I just did and reverse the fuckup before somebody fires me. 

Why is Spriteboy being such a big girl about all this?, you ask.  B/c I have to.  I have to obsess and freak out about this shit.  If I don't, I'll get passive and lethargic and it just won't be good.  I took this job as a challenge, and me wigging out and convincing myself that I'll suck --- it's sort of my way of tricking myself into tackling my worries.  When all else fails I just go listen to some Mary J. Blige.  She always makes me feel better about my life, probably b/c hers just sucks so much.  My god, all that money and fame and talent and she still can't find a hairstyle that makes her happy.  If that isn't real pain then I don't know what is.

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