Confession

I hate my job.

I am a night porter in a hotel and part of my duty is to see and forget.

I must forget how some people behave when the drinks are flowing, I see the smirks on the faces of the ones who think they are above me as I serve them their drinks and food.

I see the difference between the older ones who appreciate a bit of luxury and the younger ones who think that clicking fingers at a waiter makes them uber cool.

I see the old folk going to bed at 1030, and giving me a smile and a wave as they go, and the flash businessman who wants me to think he could get me fired because I am subservient to him.

I see the turds they leave in our swimming pool knowing I must fish them out at dead of night, and have the pool drained and cleaned before it can be used again.

I see our chefs after an 18 hour day as they leave the kitchen exhausted and dehydrated and I see the food they prepared and cooked thrown to the carpet because it looked good in someone's selfie.

I see young children crying in the rooms upstairs as their parents get drunk and flirt at the bar.

I forget the squabbling over who pays. I forget the cheap tip they leave me and I forget about the excrement left on the bedroom walls and bedsheets.

I forget about the drunken fights between loving couples who spit and swear at 3 in the morning.

I forget about the people so pumped over how big and important they are that they strut about like peacocks in their cheap clothes as they try and impress me for a free drink.

I hate my job.