Motel Reveries
I was thinking about April being done at Comfort Inn after having been there so long and put so much into it. I'm excited for her to move on to the Sleep Inn, a bigger and better opportunity. It got me to thinking about my own past career in hospitality.
I started working at Travelodge in 2003. I remember my first week there, because it was the week Dru Sjodin was kidnapped and murdered. I had worked in 2 motels prior, and loved being in the hospitality industry.
While working in motels has shaped and enhanced my misanthropy to dangerously high levels, it has also shown me what it's like to take pride in one's job. I worked at Travelodge for 6 years, was friends with my coworkers, loved my boss and the owner who worked on site. They all knew how weird I was/am, they not only accepted it but liked me because of it.
For all the assholes that came through and talked down to me and treated me like garbage, there were still more that came down in the middle of the night for some coffee or milk and were very polite, even friendly. I actually felt pride in making sure guests were comfortable, preparing continental breakfast, doing laundry, basically being part of a team that did good work and made the place run as well as it did. I also had a boss that made me feel appreciated and listened to her employees, good or bad. My coworkers saw me become a father, welcomed me into their own homes.
Then the motel was sold and the new owners unceremoniously fired her. Most of us walked out as a result. I layed into the new owner who was staying there at the time and ordered him back to his room, then worked my last shift as a parting gift to the guests who still depended on me that night. I often wonder what things would be like if it hadn't been sold. It was the one job in my life where I developed a sense of normalcy. I had my routines, i had my various activities I worked on in my downtime during the night--practicing guitar, working on my comic (or art school homework or archaeological illustration), watching movies and posting reviews on my third blog (which has gone horribly neglected), reading one of my books (I still have the bad habit of reading 3 books at a time, wreaks havoc on my memory). I came up with some of my best comic ideas, my most eloquent songs, and some catchy melodies, while watching over a mostly-sleeping motel.
But it was normal for me. I did that every night, Sunday-Thursday night, sleeping during the early day. On Fridays, I would stay awake and hit the thrift stores for my weekly rummage. Karissa and I would only go to a bar roughly once a month if that, and only when we went to Devils Lake to visit family. It's weird to think how different things are now, and how ironic that I was very docile during most of my twenties.
After I quit Travelodge, I found another motel job within a week (let's just say word got out that I'm awesome), but things were already set in motion to change. Within that month I did my first Open Mic at Mike's Pizza and Pub, my first time in a decade performing in front of people, and this time alone. After that I was at the bar every week, buying just one double-shot of Jack on the rocks, and playing 5 songs. Then I got into a band, and now we have been busy getting gigs and practising. I fell like we have less money than we did to play around with, yet I'm so much happier because I'm living out a dream. Granted, I'm paid little for the band gigs, and nothing at all for the comic, but that doesn't seem relevant right now. I just enjoy myself and like who I am when I'm doing it. I do miss those days at Travelodge, but they had to come to an end at some point. And what better end than a dramatic walk-out that left me feeling proud of the impact I had in my 6 years there?
I started working at Travelodge in 2003. I remember my first week there, because it was the week Dru Sjodin was kidnapped and murdered. I had worked in 2 motels prior, and loved being in the hospitality industry.
While working in motels has shaped and enhanced my misanthropy to dangerously high levels, it has also shown me what it's like to take pride in one's job. I worked at Travelodge for 6 years, was friends with my coworkers, loved my boss and the owner who worked on site. They all knew how weird I was/am, they not only accepted it but liked me because of it.
For all the assholes that came through and talked down to me and treated me like garbage, there were still more that came down in the middle of the night for some coffee or milk and were very polite, even friendly. I actually felt pride in making sure guests were comfortable, preparing continental breakfast, doing laundry, basically being part of a team that did good work and made the place run as well as it did. I also had a boss that made me feel appreciated and listened to her employees, good or bad. My coworkers saw me become a father, welcomed me into their own homes.
Then the motel was sold and the new owners unceremoniously fired her. Most of us walked out as a result. I layed into the new owner who was staying there at the time and ordered him back to his room, then worked my last shift as a parting gift to the guests who still depended on me that night. I often wonder what things would be like if it hadn't been sold. It was the one job in my life where I developed a sense of normalcy. I had my routines, i had my various activities I worked on in my downtime during the night--practicing guitar, working on my comic (or art school homework or archaeological illustration), watching movies and posting reviews on my third blog (which has gone horribly neglected), reading one of my books (I still have the bad habit of reading 3 books at a time, wreaks havoc on my memory). I came up with some of my best comic ideas, my most eloquent songs, and some catchy melodies, while watching over a mostly-sleeping motel.
But it was normal for me. I did that every night, Sunday-Thursday night, sleeping during the early day. On Fridays, I would stay awake and hit the thrift stores for my weekly rummage. Karissa and I would only go to a bar roughly once a month if that, and only when we went to Devils Lake to visit family. It's weird to think how different things are now, and how ironic that I was very docile during most of my twenties.
After I quit Travelodge, I found another motel job within a week (let's just say word got out that I'm awesome), but things were already set in motion to change. Within that month I did my first Open Mic at Mike's Pizza and Pub, my first time in a decade performing in front of people, and this time alone. After that I was at the bar every week, buying just one double-shot of Jack on the rocks, and playing 5 songs. Then I got into a band, and now we have been busy getting gigs and practising. I fell like we have less money than we did to play around with, yet I'm so much happier because I'm living out a dream. Granted, I'm paid little for the band gigs, and nothing at all for the comic, but that doesn't seem relevant right now. I just enjoy myself and like who I am when I'm doing it. I do miss those days at Travelodge, but they had to come to an end at some point. And what better end than a dramatic walk-out that left me feeling proud of the impact I had in my 6 years there?
posted by BoneDaddy at 10:08 PM
2 Comments:
Interesting how everything seems to fall into place when looking back, but it also makes me wonder how much of the chaos is omitted in order for our minds to make sense of it all.
I like the narrative. Hearing other's stories is interesting to me because no one seems to volunteer information about their lives anymore (and those that do so frequently tend to be overly-dramatic and annoying as hell lol).
Oh I'm sure quite a bit is omitted. I do remember after the elation and pride of how I quit had worn off that I started freaking out about having to get a job NOW. I got pretty lucky considering my timing.
I like looking back as much as looking forward.
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