Tom Hates Talking To Me


September 30, 2015 11:00pm

When I entered the hotel I saw Tom rushing from the corner office to get into the laundry room. By the time I made it into the same room to clock in, Tom was in the process of clocking out.
“Shouldn’t you wait for me to clock in before you clock out, and hurry your way out the door?” I asked.
“Does it fucking matter? You’re here now.” He rudely replied. I clocked in and walked to the desk. When I looked at the arrivals bucket, I saw that it was empty. That usually means there are no more people left to check in, but this is Tom that I am relieving, and it is best not to assume things are the way they should be.
“I see we have no more arrivals.” I said while pointing out the empty arrivals bucket.
“You actually have four arrivals left.” Tom said. I shook my head, and logged into the computer. While Tom was telling me how boring his shift was, I started printing the paperwork for the four expected arrivals. “It has been one long, boring night. Have fun sitting on your ass with nothing to do.” He said.
Printing those four papers took seconds, then I grabbed a highlighter, and marked all the places that the guests are to fill out. That whole process took less than a minute.
“I always have plenty to keep my mind occupied while I work. That includes doing the work that you refuse to do.” I informed him. Tom shook his head while shoving his hands in his pockets, because he knows I am calling him lazy. While Tom stood there watching me do his job I took out a stack of key-cards, and I programmed two cards for each expected arrival. Once those cards were programmed I put them in their little paper packet and used a black marker to write the room number for each room, then I used paper clips to attach each key packet to the correct papers that I just printed, and highlighted, and placed them each in the arrivals bucket. “Okay, now that I have your work all done, I can move on to doing my own job.” I said.
Tom huffed and shook his head at me some more. I notice that is his reaction to just about any criticism a person gives him, and he seems to think that he doesn’t deserve it. Tom believes that he should be able to have everything that he wants, and needs out of life while putting the minimum amount of effort into achieving it, but loves to talk down about society, and people’s expectations for equality, and better pay. Tom has wealthy grandparents who provide anything that he desires, but won’t admit to that being why he is living such a comfortable life. Tom is a pretty good example of white male privilege. I hate Tom, and I would love to observe him trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. You know all of those people that he puts down for complaining about how hard their lives are compared ho his? Those are the people he will be begging to help save him, because they already know hardship and what it takes to survive. Those people are going to be the people who suddenly know how to acquire everything they need to survive, and Tom is going to be crying because he will be scared and won’t know what to do. When people are running for their lives to get away from that horde of zombies; Tom is going to be the slow fat guy that someone trips, and knocks to the ground so the zombies stop to eat him; allowing everyone else to get to safety.
“You make me seem lazy, but it takes no real effort to print these up when the guests arrive. Stop talking to me like that.” Tom said.
“You just told me how boring your shift was. During that time of boredom you could have printed all four of those papers, and made the key-cards for them. It is also part of your job to get that done. It is clearly printed on your daily checklist.” I reminded him.
“Doesn’t that just mean you are getting stuff done early so that you can be more lazy later when the guest arrives?” Tom asked like a smart-ass.
“No Tom. Printing all of that up ahead of time is more efficient. When the guest arrives at midnight, that person does not want to stand there and wait for me to check him in, and then go through the process of making the key, while also waiting for that old printer to start-up and print their paperwork. The guest wants to go to bed as soon as possible, and having everything available for them ahead of time turns a three-minute check-in into a thirty-second check-in. That is not being lazy. That is considerate, and efficient. The guests expect exactly that.” I reminded him. I got the eye-roll from him.
“I don’t feel like this place deserves my effort; not after they started cutting my hours.” He complained.
“Your hours are getting cut because you keep telling everyone that you’re not keeping this job, and that you will be out of here as soon as you find something else. Why would they offer you more hours when they know that you have no intention of keeping this job?” I could tell from the look on Tom’s face that the reality of what I had just said was sinking in. I could see that he wanted to continue this argument, but he had nothing left to use. He knew I was correct, and he couldn’t deny that he does actually tell everyone he works with that he has no intention of keeping this job. Tom just learned that the things he says can actually come back to work against him.
“I really hate talking to you.” Tom said like a six-year-old who never gets his way.
“Then I recommend you stop trying to have conversations with me, because they always end with you storming out the door like a pissed off little girl.” I smiled when I said that.
Tom didn’t say anything. He just left. He always just leaves. This is a lesson that will last until Tom gets to the nearest drive-through where he will order off of the dollar menu, and then upgrade the meal to fat American size. He will have the whole thing rotting in his gut (just like his ego) before he gets home; where he will make another snack before locking himself in his bedroom at his parents house.

 

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