I rolled into Moscone West at 9:45 on Monday ready for action. Room monitoring action. I was a bundle of nervous energy. Okay, that’s a lie. I was just ready to see what the next eight hours had in store for me.
The first task was to sign in, once that was complete, I was sent me to my station—Door 217. There I met my work buddy for the next three days, Jake. How do I begin to describe Jake? One word sums him up—simple. Jake was a tall guy in his late 40’s. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit and reminded me of the dumb mafia goon from any number of movies. Our first conversation was much like every other conversation.
Jake: You must be Cardelia. Hi, I’m Jake.
Me: Yep, that’s me. Nice to meet you.
Jake: They’re bringing out the coffee soon.
Me: Oh.
Jake: Yeah, we’re gonna have coffee soon. I bet it’s good.
Me: (thinking) Is this coffee for the conventioneers? Because we aren’t allowed to drink that.
Jake: You drink coffee?
Me: No, I drink tea.
Jake: Oh. That’s too bad. It’s free.
Me: Hmm.
(Time passes.)
Jake: I hope they bring out the coffee soon.
Me: Uh huh.
Jake: I’m gonna get some coffee. Hey look, I think they’re bringing it out. (Shouting to the banquet people.) Is that the coffee? Yeah, I bet’s good. (As the banquet people are setting up the coffee, Jake wanders over, takes a cup and brings it back to the table.) Hey Cardelia, you want some coffee?
Me: No, thanks. I’m fine.
Jake: Why not? It’s free.
Me: I don’t like coffee. I’m fine Thanks.
Jake: That’s too bad. They have other stuff. They have tea. You drink tea?
Me: I’m fine. Thanks.
Jake: Suit yourself
Within five minutes, the entire foyer filled with convention-goers. We sat there. Then, after fifteen minutes of sitting while they mingled, the sessions were called. People started piling into rooms. My job was to scan their badge and make sure they had signed up for the session being held in the room that I was monitoring. Luckily for me, the scanners were broken, so most people were being denied. Being a quick thinker, I just let people into the room. Jake, on the other hand, chose to tell people “You’re denied”. Surprisingly people weren’t too pleased. I also had the displeasure to deal with obnoxious guys that were trying to sneak their friends in and talked down to me as though I were a total idiot. I felt somewhat demeaned.
Once everyone was in the sessions, I had to return to sitting. We weren’t allowed to have a book or any form of entertainment. All we were allowed to do was to sit and look interested in sitting. We had ninety minutes before the session would be let out. Of course, at the ten-minute countdown, I did have a job to do. I had to stand in the room with a sign that said “10”, “5”, and “0”. Until then, I had to sit.
Jake opted to use this time for multiple breaks.
“Hey Cardelia, I’m going to the restroom.”
Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.
“Hey Cardelia, I’m gonna take a smoke break.”
Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.
“Hey Cardelia, I’m taking my 15-minute break.”
Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.
“Hey Cardelia, you should take your 15-minute break.”
I returned from my break.
“Hey Cardelia, I need to stretch my legs.”
And that’s what happened all day long for three days. He also insisted on eating doughnuts and drinking sodas, coming back to the table to give me his review, which was usually, “This is good soda (slurp)”. At first I just thought he was an idiot and didn’t understand that his bathroom and smoke break should have been in his single 15-minute break. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realized that he might have been some sort of genius.
During one of Jake’s breaks, the woman sitting at the table across from me came over to chat. She was missing a few teeth—important ones…in front. She was insane and allegedly finishing her PhD. Another guy walked over to chat with me and informed me that he hoped this would be his last show. He was awaiting his California Bar results. The strange part was that he told me that he hated California and had no desire to practice law there. When pushed as to why he would take the California Bar if he wanted to practice law somewhere else (seeing as how state Bars don’t transfer), he looked at me as though I were an idiot and told me it was because he went to law school here. I attempted to press on, but realized it was fruitless—and wondered if he was just telling me stories.
And that pretty much sums up every day. It was mind-numbing. In the mornings, Jake gave me the wrap-up of his evening.
“Hey Cardelia, what did you do last night? I went home and called my girlfriend. She’s really nice. Then I ordered pizza and I drank beer. I hope they have doughnuts today.”
In the afternoons, Jake would disappear for hours, and I was alone at the table, which, quite frankly, was preferable to having company.
Every morning I had to convince myself to go. There was a part of me that wanted to ditch out entirely, but in the end, my work ethic wouldn’t allow me. On my third day, my break finally came.
One of the room supervisors approached me, and asked if I wanted to do a different job. I have to admit I was a bit flattered. He told me that they needed someone in the speaker room at the Marriott. According to him, it was more of an administrative job, and they needed someone that could work with computers and had a brain. As he said that he looked around and made a snide remark about the mental capabilities of my fellow room monitors. I agreed to do the job, and I was a little excited. Finally I was going to do something. And I would never have to make small talk with Jake again!
No comments:
Post a Comment