I worked last night by myself because Sam and New-Guy-Eric both needed the night off to go to various weddings.  Of course, last night was a bunch of sold-out craziness.

I somehow managed to screw up a guest’s account so badly that I couldn’t: add or subtract anything from the charges, record that the guest paid me cash, or check the guest out.  I finally left it as it was and waited for the three morning shift people to come in.  None of them knew a.) how I managed to do what I did, or b.) how to fix it.

In addition, I ran the audit nearly 3 hours later than I was supposed to due to the busyness, the guest from the above paragraph, and the fact that I couldn’t get anything to balance.  Extremely frustrated, I cried in front of Mike-the-Bellman, who went through everything and finally helped me balance.  He then went out and surprised me with an iced mocha to try and cheer me up.  That part was nice.  Made me cry again.  (Being a girl sucks.)

I’ll definitely get woken up today with a call from the General Manager in which he says, “Teri, you’re driving me crazy” a couple times.  It’s been a while since I had one of those.

Oh, and I also managed to crash the hotel software system.  We had to reboot all the computers before it magically came back online.  I’m kind of impressed with that one though.

Is it normal to be paying almost $70.00, twice a month mind you, for medical insurance?  For just little ol’ me?  Because I am.  Because of this, the slight increase in my rent, and my newly acquired 401k, I will be over budget by $200 a month.  This isn’t so much a problem when there is overtime to be had.  It will be a problem this winter when there isn’t.  I’m going to have to speak with HR Monday morning and find out why the heck I’m paying so much.  After that, well, there’s some thinking to do.  I need to try to find a way to cut corners on my budget, but that is much easier said than done.  I give myself fifty bucks a week.  That fifty is for laundry, eating out, entertainment, groceries, toiletries, what have you.  Everything else I make goes to bills.  See?  Not a lot of give.

I’m going to start having those dreams again of my teeth falling out.  I hate that.

I think I’ll also need to get a second job.

So I don’t think I’m the kind of person who needs constant praise or encouragement in the workplace, but every so often a “hey, you don’t suck at this and we don’t wish you dead” is appreciated. Because I forget that.

For the past week or two I’ve been working with this immense feeling of dread. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall. Every time I make a mistake (and the general manager always calls down to make me aware of it) I feel like it’s the last one before they tell me, “Yeah, this isn’t worth it. Just go home and stay there.”

And tonight I found out that several people have been mad at me for A.) something I was completely unaware of, and B.) something I didn’t even do. Why I am the one being blamed, I don’t know. But people here don’t come up to you when they have a problem with you. It gets passed around, making other people mad, and then I’ll hear about it. “I did what? How does one even do that?” I’ll ask, because it’s news to me.

But tonight I got a brief reprieve from my feelings of doom. I was talking to the second shift manager (a woman I like tremendously) about my fear and she reassured me. She said that I’m the best night manager they’ve had here and that they (the owner and general manager, a.k.a. the stuff my nightmares are made of) know it. They’ve said it. My night manager can’t say enough nice things about me. That was a huge weight off my shoulders.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, I don’t like the last name Sexton. I’m currently reading Deception Point, by Dan Brown and that’s the main character’s last name. Every time I read it I get a little annoyed.