Leaving my crappy dead-end job · 9:48pm Jun 16th, 2015
I love all the ponies on this show. I admire Rainbow Dash's bravery and confidence, Rarity's enterprise and generosity, Pinkie Pie's love of life, Twilight Sparkle's intelligence, and Fluttershy's deep understanding of the world around her. But the one I could count on most of all if she were real, the one I turn to in my most difficult moments, is Applejack. The family pony, the hard worker, the apple-bucking truth machine. I can almost hear her telling me: "A change would do ya good, sugarcube." And she's right.
"I think that place is really hurting your soul," the doctor tells me.
I guess that explains a lot. Like the way my stomach aches and clenches from stress as I get ready to go to my job. That resigned sense of dread as I enter the dingy lobby. The mixture of pity and disappointment I feel for every sucker who walks in during my shift. The sheer exhaustion that sets in halfway through, no matter how much sleep I got beforehand. And finally, the weight that lifts from my shoulders when my shift is over. Maybe I'm too sensitive. Or maybe I just can't shut those things out like other people.
Why does anyone stay here? I always think to myself as the meaningless hours creep by. When will they finally shut this place down?
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There are ghosts here. I can feel them.
Not the ghosts of people, although some have died in this building. I sense the ghosts of things, emotions. The muted crunch of tires on gravel from suspicious cars coming through the parking lot. The nervous rustle of cash handed over by cheating husbands. The shadows of people gesturing angrily, arguing about nothing outside their doors. Echoes of their betrayal, apathy, and disregard for their fellow man resonate within me.
Before I started working here, a man went crazy in one of our rooms. In the middle of a party he was throwing, he pulled a gun and held all his guests hostage. Then as they all had to watch, he forced himself on underage girls who had done nothing wrong except to be there. He went to jail, but he deserved worse. That night was the death knell of this business; we just haven't accepted it yet.
These are the things that haunt me when I come to the job. I can't make them go away, and maybe I don't want to. Maybe part of us takes some morbid comfort in watching a system slowly break down and destabilize around us. But entropy as an entertainment form has its limits, and I reached mine a long time ago.
This hotel is finished. It deserves to be finished.
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Like so many others all over the country, this place is falling apart because nobody cares. Not its former corporate owners who let it fall into decay and disrepute over 34 years. Not its new owners who won't pay a cent to renovate the outdated, smelly rooms. Not the GM who has given up. Not the other employees, one of whom is running sleazy side businesses out of the lobby.
And not the guests. I think they're the ones who depress me most of all. From what I can see, many of them live in a troubled, disorganized, irresponsible state--just like the business itself. Maybe that's what draws them here. They come and they linger and they go, not caring what they leave behind. But I do. It's all around me. I couldn't ignore it if I wanted to.
Sometimes I feel sympathetic and think, they deserve better than this place. Other times I'm outraged by their actions and think, this place deserves better than them. But maybe these people and this building deserve each other. I know at least one person who does deserve better, and it's the guy in the mirror.
That's why I'm leaving. After two years, I'm tired of swimming against the current and wading through others' accumulated misery. Next week I will be starting a new job and quitting this one at last. To paraphrase Hunter S. Thompson: when that day comes, I will flee this accursed hotel forever, like a rat from a burning ship.
A change will do me good, indeed.
...Goodness, even your description releases a sense of despair and unease. What a terrible place. Quitting would be best.
That was truly deep comrade. Damn, sorry you had to go through that. Good luck on the new job though!
Whatever you do next; I wish you well
Too often, people stay in a job that is literally killing them from the inside-out because they're afraid; afraid of change, afraid they won't find anything better, or just plain afraid. Inertia is the enemy of all progress, and I'm glad you've broken out of that.