This morning I woke up in my hot water free tower room that I love. I struggled myself downstairs and immediately was in conflict with Mister No. There’s a big event on. I’ve left it to the last minute. An overanxious man is managing floor. He’s one of the neurotics you don’t want as a manager, managing. There’s an event coming. It’s a big deal for him. “Fuck the guests. MY EVENT.”

I just want sustenance. I’ve done his job, this primped up twot, and at a high level. I know event catering inside out and back to front. He does too, certainly, but he sets his boundaries way too hard for my taste. He’s what I would call “a neurotic authoritarian”. And he was in full Franco mode when I met him. I know too much about the bullshit for him to win. With miniature dictators you can roll them over by completely disregarding the world they create. I wanted breakfast so I had no choice but to disregard his world and look at the reality.

There were people still eating. The buffet was still out. He literally couldn’t process the fact that I was in my dressing gown. That was the problem. All I needed was a quick change. But really, mate?

That’s his beef though the poor nasty darling. It made his dear slow tiny brain explode. I went back up and changed and down in less than 2 minutes and then I went in before his negativity could find me. He still tried to attach it to me.

“It’s unbelievable,” says a co-guest stranger, sideways, who had watched me jousting about whether I’m allowed to actually eat food. “We were here yesterday and there was none of his stressfulness, he’s being really annoying, really full on.” she continues. “I know,” I tell her. “I was here last week. This guy needs to get over himself.” I make a pair of allies out of her and her husband which is nice. And through not allowing this very skilled but negative manager to forget I’m a human, I persuasively get breakfast. Helped hugely by an unexpected coffee from one of his staff who is just doing her job beautifully despite this asshat manager. PRIVILEGE. PRIVILEGE. I HEAR MYSELF SCREAMING AT MYSELF AS I THINK THESE THOUGHTS

Theres some sort of a conference today at the hotel. Hundreds of gits. Celebrating their own significance. Nonsense clownpeople being self important. Like me! But there’s nowhere I can sit at the hotel, because my room has someone trying to remove the airlock from the pipes, and every downstairs room is being used for “the logistics need to be sustainably acclimatised within a business profit framework.” I don’t want to be in the world with these people anyway. I go walking down the coast.


Here’s a Huer’s hut. Someone would watch for shoals of fish here. When one came in they’d raise the hue and cry and direct the fishing boats that responded via semaphore in order to get the best haul for the most people. I went up the slightly tricky steps and was utterly thrilled that nobody has condemned them for being dangerous. It’s only a matter of time. I sat and chanted at the Atlantic. This job is glorious, and I’m feeling so fortunate regarding what is to come. NMHRK.

Add to that, the guy fixed the pipes in the morning. I’ve got hot water. Now I’m in heaven. My needs are simple…

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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