So, have I mentioned that I started on a new field trip recently? Well, I have. I am sure you have grown weary of hearing me whine and moan about my silly struggles to regain a sense of self sufficiency so I will not bore you all with my emotional distress. For those of you who aren't up to speed with my bohemian terms for employment just know that when I refer to a "field trip, tour or business audit" thats my optimistic way of describing what the rest of the world refers to as a job or "getting in bed with the establishment". Since returning home after life as I knew it fell apart, I have made diligent attempts at reentering the worker bee society. Well, I believe they were diligent attempts. I revised and revised and revised my resume, changed my cell phone number to reflect a local area code, scanned the help wanted ads, and of course informed anyone that I spoke with that I was back in town looking for a means of employment. I've interviewed and schmoozed, networked and nitpicked my hometown's lack of opportunities. It seemed that I was always too little too late. Some company had just hired someone right before I got wind of an opening. My self esteem rode the rollercoaster of professional accolades and the local workforce's refusal to grant me admittance. It appeared to me that world of work was some exclusive VIP club of which I had been unanimously denied access to. It seems as if I had been blackballed. I've always prided myself with having the gift of "getting in where I fit in". If offered a mere opportunity, a chance, a tiny opening I can and have wiggled into a position and have flourished. I try to recognize professional opportunities of any type and run with them. I count myself as ambitious as the next person, yet I retain a relaxed state of knowing. I know that I have divine favor with all that I come into contact with. I expect people to like me and want to be good to me and offer all manner of goodness my way. I actually believe with all honesty that if I show up with a positive attitude, an open, receptive spirit to the lesson found in every situation, a willingess to give my absolute best efforts that promotion will come my way. It is of no consequence to me how or where I begin at any job, I have full confidence that I can transform the lowliest of positions into a fulfilling opportunity. In fact, every job is an opportunity. I try to remind myself of that always. Most recently I had a chance to act on my theory. When visiting with a new angel of a friend, we stopped and chatted with his son for little while at his job and during this little spur of the moment visit my theory was given a unique platform to be tested. As always I mention to pretty much everyone that I was/am seeking stable employment and during this occassion, of course I did the exact same thing outside of a little three star hotel. My friend's son mentioned that they were indeed hiring in the housekeeping department with an apprehensive look on his face. He obviously thought that I certainly wouldn't be interested insuch a position. Inwardly, I agreed with his apprehension. I was not interested in the position. I was interested in some source of income. I did not want a job. I wanted an opportunity. I needed an opportunity. So there it was. I stepped up to the plate and seized the option before me. I have never, ever before worked in the hospitality industry in such a position before. The closest that I had come to anything like it was working in the nutrition services department of a three hundred bed hospital as their secretary and also a brief stint as a hostess in the same departmet. I served dietary trays to elderly patients in the extended care unit. I figured that surely housekeeping would be no big deal, a breeze even. The hotel was a part of a well known chain and was fairly new. I completed the application and brought it back and was surprisingly interiewed on the spot. The manager and I seemed to instantly click. She covered every aspect of the job and kept asking me if I was sure I wanted to do this type of work, seeing as I had zero experience other than cleaning my own home. It is still funny to me how she even appeared to talk me out of it. She pulled out all of the stops to make me brutally aware of what I was getting myself into. She nearly succeeded when she informed me of the near slave wage. I hesitated and still accepted it while reasoning within myself, better a little change than no change at all. The housekeeping manager with this warm personality and around the way smile looked at my application again and then asked "now, why do you want to do this again?" With the most humility and sincerity that I could find within me, I looked her in the eye and plainly responded, "I don't need a job, I just want an opportunity." I meant this then and still mean it now from the bottom of my heart. She hired me on the spot. I was informed that I would work in the laundry department servicing the hotel's linen and sometimes filling in for and helping out with housekeeping duties. Something about what I said must have impressed her because she immediately ushered me to meet the management team and introduced me to the Front Desk Manager, the General Manager and the hotel's owner. This housekeeping manager whom I had never known before a day in my life found favor in me somehow and introduced me as being very overqualified for housekeeping but perfect for potentially another position possibly in one of the hotel's other departments. I was and am still grateful. I remind myself of this daily. Although I had not worked for such rock bottom wages in years, I was grateful for the mere opportunity to increase my earnings by diplaying my worth by approaching the task at hand with a positive attitude and a strong work ethic, again I thought to myself a little change beats no change at all. That was it, I would ride out this new field trip in the linen department and learn, laugh and love the opportunity for whatever it was worth. My first few days among my fellow new hires was hilarious to say the least. It appeared that I stuck out in my new department, somehow judging from the puzzled faces around me and the question, "are you working in housekeeping?" It was as if I didn't for some reason I didn't belong. My friend's son would pop into the laundry room often during my first two weeks to check on me. I could almost read the expression on his face as I struggled to pull all of those heavy, wet sheets and towels from the industrial strength washers. Mentally, I often wondered if the ladies had a pool going to see how long I would last. I return home daily with tales of toiling away in hell otherwise known as the laundry room. Did I mention how hot this weat shop of a room would get with the three dryers and three washers all going? Again I would read the look of pity and disbelief on my parents' faces, it was the same look that my friend's son had and the very same look that my co workers shared. Were my parents apart of this secret pool to see just how long I would last? That look ignited something in me. There was a small flicker of fight left in me and I was/am determined to show everyone that I could do this. I would do this. I would reveal my inner "Akeem" from Coming To America and encourage myself to make the best out of this new field trip. I did it and I am doing it. Each morning I arrive with my big goofy smile handing out "good mornings" all around. I am learning to make a bed military style with hopes that I will never have to actually go up on the floors and really clean all of those rooms. Lets just say that I have found a new and stellar respect for the housekeeping profession. The work that these ladies do and the perfection and pace that they accomplish it with astounds me. I am without a doubt tipping and possibly leaving a gift for the housekeeper during my next hotel stay, maybe even a card, flowers and candy. These days I prefer the familiarity and routine of my little world in the laundry room. I am evolving into quite the "fairy godmother of hotel linen". I have learned so much. Never have I stood on my feet for so long stripping beds, washing, drying and folding sheets and towels. I see sheets and towels in my dreams these days and I can't say how often my fingertips have endured the awful one hundred and seventy-six degree heat of the dryers. I know, I know, I know poor, poor me. The real challenge that I find myself squaring off on these days are the fitted sheets, the bain of my existence. In the wonderful world of linen, king and queen fitted sheets taunt me daily. Folding fitted sheets correctly apparently is a study in hand and eye coordination while doing so in a sauna. One must pull together the four corners neatly and place the sheet on the folding table to create a perfect square and then finally fold said flat sheet meticulously without it bunching up into a heap of puffiness. This single act upon dozens and dozens of fitted sheets sends me clocking out daily in a grossly fatigued and frantic state in desperate pursuit of some combination of vodka. Well, I refuse to give up on myself, this new field trip and whatever may come of it and yes, I won't give up on mastering fitted sheets. I will not be defeated. I've overcome greater things. A sea of endless king and queen fitted sheets will not get the best of me.
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