A May Full of Memories
It’s just barely in to the month of May, and I have much anticipation and excitement for what will come. As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, my occupational situation was less than satisfactory. Fortunately, during my hiatus from writing, I found a position where I am not only incredibly happy but very humbled and in awe that I am doing many of the things I’d longed for in a career – and I might add, had nearly abandoned in my quest for stable and sustainable employ.
I currently hold employment at a medical practice where I manage marketing and creative direction for the practice. Additionally, my employer is opening a new business, an art and event space at the Westside neighborhood in West Midtown Atlanta. Without elaborating and to keep some privacy, The new business has place me in a key position of networking and tutorship under some amazing mavens in the art world as well as the opportunity to work, side-by-side, with some brilliantly successful individual for whose talent and savoir-faire I am very thankful. This May will conclude my probationary standing with the company and also host my stepping aboard and going full-time salary with the company.
Outside of work and the necessities that support what makes life tick, I also have quite a bit planned on my social calendar. The first of my major plans this month that remain is a trip to Savannah with Chad. My first trip to this historical city was only a little more than six months ago when I went along with my dear friend, Keith, and celebrated my 28th birthday. That trip was good, but to be honest, the city and its rich architectural history, saturation of the arts and general romantic ambient feel made the experience slightly bittersweet that I was not spending it with someone special, that is, with Chad. I don’t expect that Savannah will offer the same rich charm, which I experienced the first time, but it will be a welcomed calm before the storm.
Which storm? The storm that has consumed my working and partially personal life: the annual company party that will be held at the new location. The invite list is nearly three times the amount typically invited and the guest roster ranges from employees to socialites in politics, the arts, and celebrities in all fields. The measure of success for this event will be largely based on the overall attendance, the guests’ reaction to presentation and the space as well as the fervor and energy rallied for the opening of our new project.
Last but not least is my trip with Chad to Mexico. What’s exciting about Mexico? Much unlike other people my age, Mexico was not the first destination I chose when I left the country or was it the second, third and so on. The force drawing us to Mexico is our, now mutual, friends’ wedding to be held in the Riviera Maya. Having not taken a trip together, we supposed this would be an excellent opportunity to share and experience a new part of the world. Our plan is to arrive a week before the whole wedding party arrives and tour the Yucatan peninsula, exploring both the culture of the Mayan and Mexican peoples, the history and ruins of each civilization and enjoying new experiences with each other. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to go especially after a – hopefully – rewarding month and hardwork.
I plan to have another post explaining our Mexican road trip at greater detail as a ‘preliminary report’. That is all for now…
Wake up call?
I work at a hotel in a rather suburban area. The surrounding neighborhoods are much like Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives); there are villians and damsels, like everywhere, only the villians here usually wear suits and damsels shade their eyes in Polo glasses. BMWs and Lexuses are a common car, but your status begins with your lot and its proximity to the green or gulfcart you drive.
Our guests are generally older couples or Japanese businessmen visiting companies in the area. Occasionally, there are truckers who stop in or contractors who stay by the week and return home on the weekends.
It’s early into tonight when a young lady walks in. She’s slightly rounded woman with azul painted eyes and a brilliant smile for 1am. She looks at me like an old friend and requests a room on the ground level, facing the street. She sighs a laugh quietly, fondles her handbag and pulls out her licence and credit card.
As I code her key and confirm her stay is only for the evening – or what remains of it, a man approaches the door. “Oh -oh, no,” she laughs nervously, “he has beer. I mean, he’s my boyfriend -we’re not going far, what I mean is — I’m not drunk. Do I smell like beer? Oh dear.”
I buzz him in and nod. “No, you’re fine. I assure her.” She seems to offer bashful gratitude as the two depart through the lobby without exchanging a word.
It’s not often that I encounter walk-ins while on the 3rd shift. My typical night begins with a phone call from the proprietor who asks if everything is okay. He’s a gently spoken man, and his voice is as calm and precise as a well-tailored suit. One of the girls, who works at the desk, told me he was a psychiatrist who lived some distance away. She said his questions were always deliberate but sincere. I suppose anyone who medicates the psyche would need to seem deliberate and sincere.
About an hour and a half after the telephone rings at the front desk. “Hello? Hey,” the familiar voice begins, “this is me – ugh, room 216, I think? How’s it going up there?” She sounds even more alert than before, less occupied than when she arrived but less happy as well. “I was wondering if you could give me a wake-up call?”
“Of course. When would you -“
“Well, it depends. When do you leave?” She asks in a girlish yet nervous voice.
“My shift ends at 7am. Would you like your wake up call then?”
There’s a slight pause before she answers, “No, no, that would be too late. You see, I have much driving to do in the morning… I don’t know. Honestly, I’m hungry. Is there any food up there? I mean I only have beer here, and well, it’s just me.” The change in her tone wholly unravelled with her last statement.
“I’ll be more than happy to offer you some of the breakfast food if you’d like to come down and get it before you leave?” She declined.
‘You do you; I’ll do me’ is a motto often heard. I know that it’s not my position to question the actions of any guest. Afterall, it’s my job and they generate the business that pays my wages. However, it’s hard to ignore the sobering change of thrill to shame on someone’s face. I can’t help but wonder what motivated her visit or where she’ll be next.
I want to believe that I was an agent for some good somewhere along the line; the reckoning aspect of all of this is, however, even if I wasn’t an agent for good I have my role to fulfill. It reminds me that our decisions are our wills, freely made. If you do you and I do me, the effects don’t end there. I’m sure she doesn’t remember me tomorrow or consider my memory of her, but I will.
Memoirs
Musings
social commentary
destiny
fate
Hotel
judgement
purpose
wake up call