You've got to strike while the iron is hot.

That's what I tell myself every time I feel the stress of being overworked.  I've got three jobs this Summer.  Last week it was four, but I quit that cashiering gig.  It wasn't a proud moment for me, and it didn't arrive at that conclusion without my conscience having several arguments with my feet, lower back and eye lids.  It was the first time I've quit anything because I couldn't hack it physically.  Not that collecting money and boxing bulk groceries is at all strenuous, but when you mix it with your jobs as a deli clerk, timeshare salesperson/concierge and office manager for a small contracting business, you utter the phrase "Fuck this," a little quicker than you normally would.

You may wonder why someone would want to take on this much, especially a single person with no kids.  The answer is unemployment; Months and months of unemployment.  I owe several people money, and I hate that shit.  The orphanage started refusing to give me porridge back in March. 

On top of that, I've signed up for classes in September to pursue getting that little piece of paper that says I know shit about graphic design.  I have one that has something to that same effect regarding illustration, but unfortunately that rarely gets you anything that has dollar signs in front of it.  I need to make sure that on top of paying everyone back that I make a little financial cushion for myself for when my hours will inevitably have to be  cut back for school.

So how am I finding the time to write this blog?  I am at my timeshare job right now, working the 3-11 shift, and it's just a goddam mess right now.  This is the same job that laid me off in January, because their renovations that were only supposed to take a month ran all the way into May.  This is my second day back, and I gotta tell ya, this place had no fucking business opening back up this early.

I am sitting here waiting for the next angry phone call from another justifiably irate guest.

"My TV's not working."

"The sink is backed up...again."

"I'm only getting hot water."

"I'm only getting cold water."

"There's no light bulbs in the kitchen fixtures."

"Our overhead lights are flickering."

"This is the third day, our third call, and no one from maintenance has even come up here yet.."

"I need to speak to the manager...Well when will she be in?  Tuesday!?"

This sort of phone call is preferred over the person making repeated trips down here, because their phone doesn't work.  Every room has at least one problem.  EVERY room...And if it's just one problem, they're lucky.  I've had several people check out early.  That's pretty unheard of, considering how hard it is to get an ocean view room, or any room, on Cape Cod in the Summer, nevermind on Memorial Day weekend.

Not only am I writing this blog to vent, but I'm also doing it to constantly appear busy.  That's not for my benefit, but for the guests'.  I can imagine it would be very frustrating to be in a room that's 80-plus degrees Farenheit because the air conditioner is broken, only to come down to the lobby to see the front desk person sardonically  taking complaint calls while putting most of their concentration into Flash Sudoku.

The thing is I really can't find any solutions for any of these people.  Maintenance and housekeeping have gone home.  They've been working 16 hour days for the past week, trying to scramble to get everything together for the re-opening this weekend, and now the on-calls are not answering their phones.

I worked the 6-1 shift this morning at the deli, so basically I've spent the first half of my day saying "Can I help you?" over and over again, and the second half saying "I wish I could help you," over and over again.  Obviously, I'd much rather speak the former sentence.  This is usually a sweet gig, too.  In the off-season, you pretty much get paid to watch the football game and catch up on your reading.  I guess this is just the test to see if I really deserve this job.  I've just got to pump myself up.  C'mon now...Suck it up

You've got to strike while the iron is hot.

You've got to strike while the iron is hot.

You've got to strike while the iron is hot.

You've got to strike while the iro - Fuck. Phone's ringing...