It had been a tough couple of days. Granted the folks in our depot out here took the brunt of it, but my worst trait as a manager is that I'm just too easy going. I'll give third, even fourth chances, but eventually reality has to be confronted.
I had to let the General Manager and the two Lead Supervisors go. The severance was respectable, and it was no relief to them that I blamed myself more for their failures than they did themselves. But as some philosopher said, reality is what is, not what should be.
So here I sit, nursing a second mediocre Tequila in the hotel bar; subjecting myself to a brutal self-review.
The bar was nice enough, but it had been all but deserted the last 30 minutes or so. Tuesday night, ski season was over, no reason to be here in early spring. The bartender was a 30-something fellow who looked like he worked at a fitness place during the day -- fit but not bulky; flexible but not floppy, if you know what I mean. And he left me alone
He had taken my order and refilled it once. He tended to the other patrons when asked, but the rest of the time, he was messing with a tablet. The bar was clean; everything was in its proper place, so why not.
I finally gave up on the self ass-chewing and was distracting myself by memorizing the bottles on the shelf, when he came down and advised closing was in 15 minutes. By now I was numb to the Tequila's bite and I wasn't driving, so sure---one more.
He came back a moment later and set it to the side.
"Thanks," I sighed. Looking at the name tag, I acknowledged, "Jeremy? Charles."
He nodded. "So, I've been doing this long enough I can sense a bad day all the way from the other end," he replied.
"Yeah, pretty bad here; worse for others."
"Have to discipline someone?"
"Three someones. Had to let them go. It's never easy. And the b-s about it hurts me more than it does you is just a flat out lie of course. But I gave them every chance. Still-----," I faded off.
"Well, how about one for the road ---if you're a guest here."
"That I be," I averred, raising the Boy Scout three fingers. I then picked up the glass and toasted his gift.
He nodded and went back to wiping and arranging.
I continued sipping, thinking he'll tell me when to leave. But a few minutes later he went and closed the door to lobby and came back over.
"Take your time," he said.
I nodded my head in agreement.
"Besides," he continued. "I need to ask a favor."
I shrugged and waved my hand for him to continue.
"Corporate is pushing a guest survey. It takes about 10 minutes or so. I need to get one more to keep up with the goal, and you being management and all, and well-----the only one left here, would you mind? I'll comp that one."
I don't mind surveys. Everybody has to gather data these days.
"Sure, I'll make your quota for the night," I said.
He handed over the tablet with earphones attached. "It queued up, just press start. The earphones are for when it's noisy in here. They're clean."
I put the earphones in and selected start. There was some soft jazz playing and a light blue spiral in the background while it compiled. It started with instructions and an overview. Five sections, seven to 10 questions for each and a slight break as each section loaded. I always answer surveys quickly; first impressions are more honest. But this one seemed to take a little longer than others. And there was the spiral and some flickers in between each section. The questions were the usual sort -- appearance, friendliness, quality, etc. etc. At the end it asked me to wait while it collected and sent the results. Again, the spiral, which with the Tequila on board, was pretty relaxing.
It then put up a screen asking about the server in particular: was he polite? attentive? responsive? attractive? persuasive? convincing? compelling? impressive?
A bit out of the ordinary, but for some reason I felt comfortable rating him a 10 on each one.
The spiral returned and after a few minutes the tablet thanked me for participating.
Some part of me knew to take out the earbuds, sign the check and leave, but I was so relaxed. Worn out, alcohol on board to be sure, but there was some sort of calmness that was holding me in place.
A few moments later, a voice prompted me that it was time to close the check. Still in a daze I signed it, and then pulled out a 20 and left it as well.
"Thanks," a distant voice said. "See you tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, I expect so," I murmured.
The next thing I recall is the alarm.
*********
23 hours almost to minute after leaving, I'm back on the same stool. Whatever regret I had about cleaning house is long gone. Gone as about 10 this morning when I got a sense of just how bad things were. After 11 hours straight, I left the FUBAR mess in the conference room, thinking that FUBAR was not adequate to describe it.
Jeremy is at the register, sees me in the mirror and raises his hand. I hold up two fingers and then pantomime a sandwich. The Tequila double arrives and a cheeseburger is ordered. Yeah it's stress eating but so what.
I watch whatever is on while devouring the burger, and then lean back sipping, letting the day fall apart.
There's only one other guy there and he is settling up, so Jeremy wanders down.
"Clearly a bad day," he offers.
"Yeah, whatever regret I had about letting those guys go evaporated a long time ago and I'm developing a serious attitude as to the guy who had this region before me," I respond.
"Anything I can do?" he asks.
"A glass of water to settle dinner and another Tequila--just one though. I just need to relax and take the edge off. My molars hurt from clenching."
He came back with the drinks and the tablet from last night.
"Thanks," I said. "But you don't want me to take the survey again, not with this mood."
"Oh, sure, no," he said. "I've got a relaxation app on here. Helps me when the bar is going crazy."
"What, like whale sounds and doves cooing?" I challenged.
"Hah," he chuckled. "Nothing so fancy. Just some wavy things and soft light and voices. Same folks as made the survey."
I recalled sort of zoning out during the survey while it tallied the responses. It was pleasant enough.
