While I do like food, I find cooking here to be extremely inconvenient. Storage space is limited, there is no dish washer (this is particularly troublesome because dishes are my least favorite chore), and since it is not my kitchen, I have to clean to someone else's (very high) standards after each use. Talk about time consuming! Plus, after once taking an hour to boil rice, I really don't want anyone to see my "culinary experiments." It seems I will starve for both convenience and pride.
When I do eat here, I prefer minimal utensil and plate use. So it was kind of a hoot to be at a major hotel in downtown New City today, where I got practically personal service on a two-course meal and a dessert!
Cave Inc. is having their yearly spring symposium at this posh maze, and all employees are expected to either attend or staff. True to form, everything was done at the last minute. Due to the high workload, I blew out/overheated/destroyed/sapped all the ink and life out of all the office color printers by 4:30 Thursday afternoon, and only one was fully functional during Friday's rush. In the brouhaha (I deleted my database! We need 200 of these stuffed by 5:00! Where are the forms for Monday!? Anne, we need 30 more of these! Pack it up, pack it up! Who printed on my paper?!), a typo on some of the certificates was not caught until late this morning. Since I cannot drive, Mr. Whamo was dispatched to deliver me to the main office so I could correct and reprint the problem certificates.
As a result, we missed the appointed hour for the midday meal. Mrs. Midboss was thinking ahead, however, and asked the hotel staff to hold two plates for us until we got back. Upon arrival in the large, empty dining hall, I was seated and served with attentiveness I have not experienced in some time. Though there were countless tables, all but the one I perched at had been stripped bare of plates, cups, and accessories. The waiter, with no one else to see to, offered multiple salad dressings and poured for me! It was almost unbearably ridiculous until I managed to convince Mr. Whamo to sit down with me. Eating by myself in such a vast space? Waited on hand and foot? Oh dear me, no no! It seemed slightly less silly with two at the table.
Three forks! Oh, there were three forks! Do you know how long it has been since I have seen a setting with so many? Each cup of tea was served with a fresh spoon, and of course, no plate was ever reused. There was strawberry cheesecake! These sorts of luxuries are only possible on super special occasions or when someone else does the work for you.
I really am very sad that Mrs. Damdy will soon be returning from medical leave. She is one of the most negative, stressed-out people I have ever met. I have never seen her with a true smile on her face, and she is almost always telling sob stories about her pain, her surgery, her children, etc. etc. etc. She doesn't stop, either, so if you hope to get anything done, sometimes you just have to grab your document off the printer and run while she is talking away.
Mr. Whamo, who is her temporary replacement, is a cheerful soul who tries not to let the crime and guns in his neighborhood get him down, though he is always worried about being mugged or killed because of the way he looks. Is he very professional in his attire or demeanor? Not by a long shot, but he really is such a nice fellow, and sometimes that's more important. I am hoping against all reason that they will fire Mrs. Damdy and keep him on board. "You just keep doin' what you love, Anne," he said today as we sat in that huge space, "and something nice will happen to you. You're a good person. You'll be rich off your photographs someday." I'd so much rather hear that and laughter than the endless bitching of Mrs. Damdy!
He even thinks that I have a good sense of direction. He is the first and only person ever to have claimed such a thing.