Tag Archives: hotel breakfast room attendant

Mar4

An Update on My Job

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My job as a breakfast room attendant in a mid-range hotel is going well. I don’t deal with too many clueless or entitled people, so I don’t have many interesting stories from my job to share. When I worked as a camp host and parking lot attendant and later as a clerk in the campground store, the can-you-believe-it stories rolled in faster than I could write the down. Honestly, I’m glad to have traded blog post fodder for a workplace with sparse drama.

Of course, there are little events to break the monotony of my workdays. People look frantically for the coffee, somehow missing the large pump containers marked “regular” and “decaf” on the counter right in front of them. Guests try to open the wrong side of the handleless refrigerator door. Folks ask for orange juice when we only have apple. I try to help them solve their breakfast problems without embarrassing them or making them feel bad. That door tricks someone every day, I joke to lighten the mood after telling a guest they need to pull on the other side of the aforementioned refrigerator door. I figure it’s early, and we’re probably all struggling.

Photo by Jean-Philippe Delberghe on Unsplash

The most puzzling situation I run into are the people who don’t push in their chairs when they leave the table. This doesn’t happen once a day; it happens several times a day. Is this a new phenomenon due to COVID? Folks must touch the chairs to pull them out. Why would they hesitate to push them back in after they’ve eaten? If the reason is laziness, these people have taken laziness to a whole new level. There doesn’t seem to be a particular age demographic refusing to push in the chairs. Young people, old people, middle age people, they all fail to push in their chairs. Pushing in the chairs is not a hardship for me, but having to do so leaves me asking why.

The most annoying guest are those who come in after the breakfast room is closed but still want to enjoy all the amenities. Breakfast is over at nine o’clock sharp. The moment the “The Drew Barrymore Show” pops up on the television, breakfast is OVER, and I’m hustling to put everything away and get everything cleaned up as quickly as possible so I can go home. Guests can linger in the breakfast room as long as they like, but they should get in by 8:59 if they want to find the toaster plugged in, the waffle iron on, eggs and sausages in the steam table, and cereal on the counter.

One morning a guest came into the breakfast room at 8:58. She puttered around making herself a plate. At 9am I started putting away things she wasn’t using. She must have seen me removing salt and pepper shakers from tables and turning off the waffle iron. Maybe she just didn’t notice. In any case, she finished making her plate and left the breakfast room.

A few minutes later (so probably at 9:05 or 9:07) she returned. In the time she was gone, I had dumped the uneaten eggs and sausages. When the guest came into the breakfast room, she made a beeline for the steam table. She lifted the lid and found the pan empty.

Ma’am, I’ve already gotten rid of the eggs and sausages, I told her.

She seemed perplexed. I bet she wondered how the eggs and sausages disappeared so quickly. What she didn’t know is that at clean up time, I’m quick!

(The next morning the same woman was in the breakfast room making her plate by 8:30.)

Latecomers throw off my cleaning schedule, but they make my life especially difficult if they want a last-minute waffle. If I turn off the waffle iron at 9am on the dot, it’s cooled enough for me to clean it after I’ve done all my other tasks. Twice I’ve burnt my arm while cleaning the waffle iron while it was still hot from after-9am waffle making.

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

People sometimes want to use the toaster after breakfast is officially over. This desire causes problems for me because as soon after 9am as possible I unplug the toaster and steam table. If a latecomer wants to use the toaster, I have to stop whatever I’m doing to plug in the toaster. (The toaster plug and electrical outlet are inside a cabinet, so I would have to stop my work to explain to guests where to find the plug and the outlet even if I didn’t feel responsible for plugging it in for them. Also, I have to stoop way down to get to the outlet, and we can’t ask the guests to get down on their hands and knees to plug in a toaster.)

(On a toaster tangent: Why, when cleaning the crumb trays, do I occasionally find globs of melted then resolidified butter stuck to them? Who butter their bread before toasting it? Is this a thing?  Are toaster novices staying at the hotel? Are toasters made to handle buttered bread? I think not! I’m afraid butter in the toaster will someday start a grease fire.)

One day I’d cleaned the breakfast room and put everything away, pushed my cart to the storage area/dish room, washed all the pots and pans and utensils and serving trays I’d used to prepare and serve breakfast, and headed back to the breakfast room to sweep, mop, vacuum, and take out the trash. It was after 10am.

As I was pulling the broom out of the storage closet across from the breakfast room, I saw two guests walking down the hall. They were a young (mid 20s) couple, (ostensibly) a man and a woman. The woman had been in the breakfast room earlier; she’d made a plate and left. As the couple got closer, I saw the man was holding an everything bagel in his hand. One bite had been taken from it.

Photo by Vicky Ng on Unsplash

The two young people stopped at the door of the breakfast room and looked in. They then looked toward the reception desk and must have made eye contact with the manager standing there. As I was coming out of the storage room to ask if I could help them, the guy asked something about our toaster.

How can I help you?  I asked. (At least I hope that’s what I asked. I hope my question didn’t come out more like What do you need?)

Is your toaster still out? he asked, gesturing to me with his bitten bagel.

I realized that from where he was standing and the way the toaster was positioned on the counter on the far side for the steam table, he couldn’t see it.

Breakfast ended at 9 o’clock, I told him. Everything is put away. (I figured the toaster being unplugged was as good as being put away.)

The young man looked disappointed, but I held firm. It wouldn’t have been bad if I’d only had to plug in the toaster, but I doubted it would have been as simple as that. He’d need to cut the bagel in half, so I’d have to get him a knife. He’d probably get crumbs all over the counter I’d already cleaned, and I’d have to clean it all over again. I wouldn’t be able to sweep until the entire operation was over because he would probably get crumbs and sesame seeds all over the floor. The whole situation would have really slowed me down.

Also? He wanted to put a bagel he (or someone) had chewed on into a community toaster! Gross! Germy! Yuck! At home? Sure, put your own germs into your own toaster. But in a community setting? Let’s keep our germs to ourselves.

So, no, I did not invite him into the breakfast room to toast his bitten bagel.

Honestly, the hardest part of my work day is getting myself out of bed at 4am. Also difficult? Going to bed at 8pm on the evenings when I’m not totally exhausted and ready to sleep the afternoon and evening and night away. But overall, I don’t mind the job too much. Somebody’s got to feed the people.

In related news, I took the 60 minutes food handlers course for my state and passed the test with a 97%. Apparently, I’m still good at taking tests.

Dec13

My New Job

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Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I got a job. I applied in October, but didn’t hear anything back until November. I thought they had hired someone else and wondered why they hadn’t hired me.

One morning I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. I answer those calls because not all of my contacts transferred when I had to get a new phone, and The Man could be calling me from anywhere since he doesn’t have a phone and has to borrow one if he needs to contact me. This time, the call was from the manager of the place where I applied to work. She asked if I could come in the next morning at 10 for an interview. I told her yes!

I arrived a little early. I walked in by 9:57, and she was waiting for me. She whisked me into her office. By 10:04, I was back in my minivan, and I had the job.

The manager didn’t really interview me. She held my application in her hand and asked, So, you worked as a personal assistant?

I said yes, then talked for 40 seconds about what sort of tasks I carried out as a personal assistant.

Then the manager looked back at my application and asked, So, you worked for a home health care company?

I said yes, then talked for 30 seconds about how I helped disabled people in their homes.

Finally, the manager looked at my application for the last time and asked, So you worked at a gas station?

I said yes, then talked for 25 seconds about the work I did at the gas station.

When I finished speaking, the manager said she thought I would be a good fit for the position. She said I should come back on Friday afternoon before 3 o’clock to complete some paperwork. Then I walked back out to my van. I sat in the driver’s seat and felt so grateful to have a job. I was glad I wouldn’t have to fill out more applications or participate in additional interviews. I was so relieved that I’d gotten a job, I forgot to ask how much it paid.

By now you’re probably wondering what kind of job I got. Ok. I’ll tell you.

Photo by Jill Sauve on Unsplash

I’m the breakfast attendant at a mid-range hotel not far from a major roadway. I arrive at 5am, get food out of the cooler, cook sausage and eggs in the microwave, make coffee, and put out all the food. Some days I have to mix waffle batter. Some days I have to boil eggs. Throughout breakfast hours, I keep all the food stocked and, most importantly, keep the coffee flowing. I wipe tables when customers leave and pick up any trash they didn’t throw away. I wipe up spills on the counters, most often waffle batter from a self-serve waffle experience that has gone awry.

At 9am, I shut down the breakfast room. I turn off the TV and the waffle iron, unplug the toaster and the steam tray. I put away muffins and Danishes and hide all the cereal and condiments in the cupboards under the counter. I throw out any eggs and sausage that weren’t eaten. I wash the pans I cook the eggs and sausage in, as well as all the serving utensils the guests have used. I sweep and mop the floor and vacuum the carpet. I take out the trash, then head home for the day. I’ve always gotten out of there before 11am.

I only work three days a week. I work three days in a row, then have four days in a row off. That’s truly the best part of the job.

Another thing I like about the job is that no one is breathing down my neck. When I work, I am the queen of the breakfast room. The guy who trained me showed me how he does things, but told me that when I’m working, I’m in charge and can do things the way that most makes sense to me. The manager has corrected me a couple of times and given me some tips, but she’s not on any kind of high horse. I appreciate the corrections and advice she has given to me.

Of course, no job can be perfect…

On my first day of training, the manager and the guy who trained me warned me about Karen, the night auditor. I’ve worked in hotels before, and the night auditor has always been a weirdo. I think those disrupted sleep patterns really take a toll on most people. Hotel managers never want to fire night auditors though, no matter how difficult to get along with they may be because it’s so hard to find anyone willing to work the overnight shift. Hotel staff just have to put up with night auditor weirdness.

Karen has worked at this hotel longer than anyone else, including the manager (who just turned 25 two weeks ago). While Karen does know a lot, she thinks she knows everything, which, of course, she doesn’t. Karen is also bossy and smug.

The first day I worked alone after training, Karen tried to get bossy with me. I nipped it right in the bud, letting her know the way I did things was just fine. She got huffy and walked away. Good riddance, Karen.

Later that morning a third coworker (one of the front desk workers) warned me about Karen and said I should let any of the desk workers know if Karen hassled me. I told her how I had already taken care of things with Karen. I also let her know I’m open to correction and suggestion, but I don’t need Karen or anyone else bossing me for the sake of being bossy.

Photo by That’s Her Business on Unsplash

Every morning when I hurry in at 4:49, I give Karen a hearty, cheerful Good morning! She grumbles good morning back to me, but I can tell saying it pains her. On the rare occasion I ask her a question, she delights in giving me an answer. I think Karen enjoys knowing more than other people and showing off her knowledge.

All in all, the job is fine. It’s certainly not rocket science. I’m not working too hard. I can even sit down and watch the TV or flip through a tourist magazine when there’s no particular thing to do at the moment. It’s an easy job, and I’m grateful for it.

Also? Now I can add “Breakfast Attendant” to the long list of interesting job titles I’ve held.