Mr. Buffet's Employee

It's easy to get bogged down by the negative experiences in life, especially those that originate from sour people. I would like to see a federal law that all persons of sour disposition be required to work one year at a service job at marginal pay, with no benefits, but that's not going to happen. But if it did all of us would still have to take a happy pill since nobody's perfect with respect to disposition. Just ask my wife about my sometimes sour disposition.

There is a toxin that hits you when it's launched by an irascible person. You're behind the counter and you must adhere to proper conduct and not raise your voice or use any conduct that would escalate the situation and give that person cause to launch his vitriol in the direction of corporate headquarters. It takes skill to divert this anger that implies incompetence on your part. Sometimes 'people' skills aren't enough.

Sometimes the toxin has a particularly keen sting as in the instance of a man who threw his key card at me.

"There's no need for that! I'll try to help you with your problem but don't treat me with disrespect." I smelled his boozy breath.

He was silent for a minute, looking down, elbows on the counter and then with a sarcastic smirk lauched into a tireade,
"I spend thousands here and they can't assure me of a key that works?"

" Sorry, I'll make a new..."

"You know who I work for? Come on, ask me who I work for." I took the bait.

"Warren(expletive) Buffet."

By then I realized how drunk he was. He hadn't spent thousands. His company paid for his lodging.

I started making a new key card but I forgot my password, a password I've used for a long time and panic came knocking at the door as Mr. Buffet's employee noticed my hesitation.

"You're new here. You forgot how to make keys."

Rather than respond I concentrated on the task and offered a quick prayer 'help'.

"When did they hire you? Last week?" His voice escalating, "You forgot how to work that machine, didn't you? Yeah, you're new."

My password flashed into my mind and in seconds I had a new key made. I apologized for the inconvenience and handed the key to him.

He snorted at my apology as he demanded to talk to a manager and it was after 1:00 a.m. To shorten this story I called the police after talking to the manager and the officers took him aside for a while and talked to him and asked him questions. They escorted him to his room.

In retrospect the man was reprimanded by his boss who also stayed at the hotel. During the incident I didn't let Mr. Buffett's employee define me, and I didn't retort by telling him how many years I had worked at this hotel. I wouldn't let him destroy my dignity. When he glared angrily I stuck to the problem at hand. I felt rage and fear that he would complain to corporate headquarters but I kept a poker face.

The abuse stung for some time. In church I've been told to forgive those who sin against me. The sting was dissipated by relating this event to my wife.  Lois understands since she has had many similar encounters. In time I forgave him and he quit living inside my  mind, rent free.

I will endure this situation again assuming I don't completely retire soon. I will dignify complaints and do my utmost for a guest but I will not tolerate disrespect or extreme drunkenness. I won't let anyone destroy my dignity and self-respect.

Self-Acceptance

Acceptance is a virtue for recovering alcoholics I'm told and I've learned to accept certain things, but not everything.

I've accepted, to a degree that I have a small bone structure, giving me small wrists, narrow shoulders. It's ectomorphism, with an inability to gain weight, not having much muscle mass, and a skinny physique. I have trouble finding watch bands that fit. Usually I need a jeweler to adjust the expansion band to fit my tiny wrist. It's hard finding jeans in my size in the slim style. Regular or relaxed fit will make me look like a kid trying on his daddy's jeans.

Acceptance for my slightness of physique didn't come easy or overnight and it hasn't come entirely. Well-meaning friends  remark that I am too skinny. I should eat more. One gal did this at a church barbecue. She yelled, "You better eat. You're WAY too skinny!" Heads turned and my ears got red. Afterward I smoldered, I didn't call attention to her obesity. I didn't say she shouldn't load her plate with two helpings but later in the night I kept thinking about retorts that I thought I should have launched.

During a visit to my dermatologist I was to receive a cortisone shot for my severe eczema and the doctor noticed my weight on my patient chart. Before he said anything I told him, "I'm an ectomorph, what can I do? That's the way it is."

"Well, George although ectomorphs lack muscularity and mass they do have one outstanding characteristic." I met his eyes for the answer. "Ectomorphs have outstanding stamina. That's why marathon runners are characteristically skinny. You're a runner. You have  endurance that makes you able to run five miles or more. You're not a marathon runner but you don't do too badly for a man of sixty-seven years. Enjoy your ectomorphism."

When I see myself in the mirror I see what's there versus what I'd like to see or more accurately, what I think others want to see. At times I accept the physique God gave me and other times I don't. After a run I feel good about myself.

Then there are times  when I condemn myself and I think I should put on a lot of weight. A real man has heft, huskiness.My mom used to say I was so skinny I wouldn't cast a shadow. Other times she said I was so light that a good puff of wind would blow me away. I tried weight-lifting and increased calorie intake to no avail. All I'd got was a flabby stomach but the rest of me was still skinny.

 Last year at work some snowmobile riders returning from the gin mills in an altered state said "You ain't as pretty as the gal on the afternoon shift." Construction workers have referred to me as "ma'm" when they come to check out of the hotel.  They smirk at my small, thin hands as they navigate the computer keyboard. I don't flinch, blush or bat an eyelash. I'm all business but after my shift is done and I'm alone, self-condemnation comes like a flood.

People tend to have these neat little definitions or boxes in which they can put people. They scorn the people who fail to fit into them, mostly silently, sometimes in gossip or they launch  blunt cruel words as when someone is deemed too fat, too thin, too masculine for a female or too feminine for a male. Not white enough, not having a pot-gut and facial hair, not big enough, not petite enough, not dressed right, not driving a bad-ass truck. They don't think (or care) for a moment, how Got sees them They also do not realize that they fall short of aesthetic  perfection. They are the ones who need self-examination, to figure why they have the need to demean others.

Self-acceptance will increase, but it's non-linear with respect to time.