Wednesday 27th September 2017
It’s laundry day again today, so whilst I wait for the antique machine to jiggle my clothes around in the water and return them to me a lot wetter but most probably actually dirtier, I thought that I owed it to you all to write another blog.
I’ve decided that laundry day is a good way of killing two birds with one stone and keeping in touch with you all. Some may wish that I did my clothe washing a bit more often, not just the people that have to be in my close proximity, but those of you that would like more frequent instalments of my insanity.
Thankfully, from my point of view, my uniform gets laundered by the wonderful chaps in the bowels of the ship, meaning that the only washing that I have to endure personally is that of my stockings, smalls and a few pairs of shorts, plus the odd wet bikini on days when I’ve finally made it off the ship and as far as the beach.
Quite honestly working seven days a week doing my “normal” job, as well as nurturing a flourishing miniature toy empire in my “spare” time, is starting to take its toll.
Having spent my day battling with the intolerably slow internet connection, to try and sift through a stack of emails, fix glitches on our website, as well as make Skype calls to China, at a time when both they and I are awake enough to make sense to each other, plus formate the next literary masterpiece into an acceptably agreeable template to be able to upload it to Amazon Kindle, the last thing I want to do is head upstairs to work, in my freshly pressed work attire, for an eight hour stint of dealing cards to overly exuberant and overly intoxicated holidaymakers.
I do actually like being a casino dealer, but the compounding effects of working 6 to 9 month stints without a day off, on top of secretly trying to become a E-Mogul, rather wears thin after a while, and definitely brings out the worst in me.
I know that my job is in the service industry and that being a public facing operative that it’s a requirement that I be smiley, helpful and polite at all times, but honestly have you ever tried to be smiley, helpful and polite 7 days a week for 40 weeks at a time?? I can barely go ten minutes without moaning, pulling a face or rolling my eyes.
I do make a concerted effort at the start of every shift to be charming and pleasant to all whom I encounter but after about daft question number 2, my halo slips and my forked tail edges into view.
It’s like it’s physically impossible for me to answer even the simplest of question without contempt, sarcasm or at least some kind of put down. Even when I do reply honestly in a polite manner, it still seems to come across as dripping with mockery.
For example, the other day, whilst trying ultra hard to be cordial, even though I felt like a heinous b!#ch on the inside, I asked a guest how his cruise had been. He replied that it was awful. Wondering what could be the matter, I asked him such. His response was that he was unhappy with the “boat”. Oh no! How could this be? And responded with the words “Oh dear! Is it not floaty enough for you?”
Well as you can imagine my flippant retort did little to improve his opinion of our delightful ship, especially as it transpired that his ultimate complaint was with the service or lack thereof, namely his difficulty in obtain enough drinks in an expedient manner.
Honestly I hadn’t even meant to be facetious, with my floaty remark, it just came into my head and out off my mouth without even thinking about it. It’s a genuinely uncontrollable affliction that I’ve got.
When someone asks me even the most banal question, my mind instantly fires up with a army of Chandleresque (from Friends) type ripostes. I know the correct answer and what I should say, but I struggle, and usually fail to select the appropriate answer and instead comeback with what I call sharp wit, and what the guests refer to on their customer comment forms as sarcasm.
Apparently sarcasm is the lowest for of wit (I’m reminded of this “fact” daily), but as I always counter, it’s also the funniest. Well in my skewed opinion anyway.
The other day it actually got me in to trouble though, with a guest reporting me to my manager for being, in his words, “An Agressive B!#ch”.
I can’t blame him, in fact I can believe that he was actually the first one to make a complaint about me.
In my defense I was having a particularly bad day and was feeling very under the weather with the onset of a good old fashioned English winter cold, graciously brought onboard all the way from Blightly by one of the passengers no doubt. Plus his wife had also been very demanding from the second I arrived at the table, ordering me to smile multiple times.
She was lucky that I only responded with an albeit aggressive demand for her to tell me a joke if she wanted me to smile, because it had been a choice between that and ordering her to bark like a dog.
Well if she wants to order me to do inane things then it’s only fair that I get to do the same. In my opinion. Which I know as an employee counts for nothing….
So now I’ve got to try and make it up to him and her, which isn’t easy for someone blessed with my condition. But, I need/like this job so I’ll be sucking it up to the best of my ability for the rest of the week, whilst simultaneously trying not to offended any other innocent holidaymakers trying to enjoy their precious time off from work or retirement.
As they say, it’s all in a days work. Although sometimes I question my desire to give up shovelling horse s#*t for a living in favour of a lifestyle that involves interacting with real human beings. Especially the obnoxious drunk variety…
So if you see me vacantly staring into space whilst on an empty table, or using my “screen-saver face” whilst dealing the cards, please think twice before demanding that I “smile”, for both of our sakes. Firstly you really don’t wanted to be subjected to a evening of my caustic wrath whilst losing your hard earned cash at the poker table, and secondly I’m probably concentrating really hard on trying to deal to procedure, calculate winning bets and ensure gaming integrity. Either that or I’m desperately trying to scour the inner my mind for a word that rhymes with Rudolph for the Christmas Edition of the next Hippomottie book!
Honestly I shouldn’t be allowed to work with real live living people and I apologise unreservedly for my appalling table-side manner…