When I was seventeen years old, I left home and moved to West Yellowstone Montana with two of my friends. We were all hired at the Executive Inn and the job came with housing--we had an apartment with a fourth girl. The apartment was two bedrooms,so we split up into teams of two. We arrived with very little money and even fewer groceries and approximately zero idea's about how to budget our food dollars. Consequently, we spent a couple of weeks being hungry--but that was alright because the hotel had a pool and we spent hours perfecting our tans by that pool. (And every young woman knows tht a hungry belly is a sexy belly.)
On the day that we arrived we took care of all of the important things first: we claimed a bed and fixed our make-up and put on sexy clothes. We walked to the motel to check in. Now. At that time I was under the impression that I had been hired to be the desk clerk, and the other two girls were maids. I was feeling pretty good about my position. Good enough to be a smart ass about it. When we checked in we had a conversation with the manager. I do not remember the exact words but I do recall one of my roomies claiming she would make the better desk clerk and me saying she was right because I needed a calculator to count to ten.
But see, I wasn't being serious. I was secure in my position and so I made light of it.
The next morning we woke early and dressed for our jobs. I put on a dress, nylons and high heels. I teased my hair and felt very grown-up and professional. My room mate who claimed she would make a better desk clerk left early--wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The rest of us followed shortly after.
Halfway to the hotel, I saw my roomie running home from the hotel--and this was a crucial hint as she wasn't exactly the athletic type. When she reached us she said that the jobs has been switched, she was the clerk I was the maid and she needed to go change. I marched my heeled self to the hotel, spoke with the manager and found out that the information was true.
I thought I was a desk clerk, but I was really just a maid. As I walked back to the apartment I understood that I had made a crucial mistake when I had a smart assed comment about my abilities. I was overly confident, and therefore I didn't state the facts: by 17 I could already type faster than a mother fucker AND I could count to a million. Maybe higher. It was quite the horrible moment when I passed my roomie on the sidewalk againg--this time she was wearing nylons and heels and I was going to change into toilet scrubbing gear.
I spent my first three months in West Yellowstone as a maid. I was disappointed--but not disappointed enough to give up an apartment with three girls. I got another job at a t-shirt store, and eventually I got the desk clerk job. I even climbed the ranks to be made assistant office manager. (My roomie was the office manager. If you think that being her assistant burned my shorts you would be partially accurate. It did burn my shorts--but not half as much as my shorts were burned by her consistent good hair days.)
Today I am reminded of that incident. I feel like I am walking towards the hotel in high heels and a fancy dress to claim my rightful position as a desk clerk, but I am going to find out I am really just a maid.
Shoot.
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