Meet Sparrow, an average man passing an average life…
Saturday, February 18
One of the lessons I’ve tried to impart here is to always confirm your lodging reservations.
That, however, does not appear to be enough…Make sure when you confirm you make sure you write down the correct dates.
This morning a Mr Del Valle comes to the desk…He was scheduled to arrive a week ago for a seven-night stay, but instead showed up last night, a week late…Bianca gave him a room on the theory we could reinstate the reservation, and told Mr Del Valle to come by and the wizards on the morning crew to square everything away.
Well, as it was Anyssa had the day off and Tanya, my fellow supervisor, was at the desk when he came by…She asked me what we should do…His reservation was actually an exchange thru another company, so I called them and they said whoops, the reservation has been canceled…Someone else told me they were sorry, but the reservation could not be reinstated for reasons that go beyond the scope of even this crap.
So Tanya says we can piece together a week’s stay for them, but then I bring up the canceled reservation and the small matter of how we are going to be paid for it…Tanya sees this point immediately and refers him the company that handles rentals for us…As it was, they were able to reserve a week here, tho they have to pay cash for it and not exchange credits…Mr Del Valle was very grateful…He is about my age and is a pleasant, amiable, harmless sort you could rather easily see getting his vacation dates wrong.
At the retailer, this person who looks about twelve comes up to Aisle 5 looking for a pack of smokes…I ask for ID and the name is Monique Anastasia, I forget the last name…I raised an eyebrow because despite the chick names the person looked like a man…Or, more accurately, a boy…I considered not making the sale and telling the person the ID belonged to someone else but the picture matched and the ID showed no signs of tampering or being fake, and I have some experience in these matters, so I rang the smokes up…As she walked away she sort of looked a girl from the back, so I think I made the right call.
My fellow cashier Abdul was feeling chatty and we were so slow he was actually able to come chat with me a couple of times…The only problem is I can’t understand a damn thing he says most times…One, he’s from Senegal and English is third or fourth language, behind French, Spanish and whatever the hell they speak in Senegal…Second, he tends to mumble and all I could really make out was “politics” “run again” and “World War III”…I’m pretty good at following along and nodding when appropriate, but if Abdul is wondering why I’m not more conversational, that’s why.
He works 80 hours a week – I whine, a lot, about the 52 I put in between the resort and the retailer – also working graveyards at the grocery store and he said he is going to go back to Senegal for a while at the end of the year…Then he might come back to the states, work a couple more years till he’s 60 or so, then retire back to Senegal where evidently it is cheaper to live than at fancy pants ski town.
Set a personal record by not needing change for my cash drawer at all tonight…I worked both aisle 4 and Aisle 5 and both were well stocked with cash and coins…Usually, I have to replenish, sometimes twice, but we were really slow tonight.
There’s a young couple that comes through my line most Saturday nights…The guy is tall with a chiseled face and the wife is pretty cute and their kid is adorable and I’ve always had the impression they got married because he knocked her up…He always comes in in work clothes, I gather he works on a ranch, and always looks tired and it is plain he is trying to take good care of his family, which you gotta respect…Tonight, among other things, they had some mac and cheese, the leading national brand, too, and I smiled and held up a box, tapping it knowingly like I sometimes do, and the guy smiled and said it was his treat for the week.
You’re not sharing it with your wife???
The wife, for her part, made a face and sound, indicating she didn’t like mac and cheese.
The Diary of a Nobody is a novel. All elements are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Anything else is a coincidence.
It was inspired by the 19th-century British novel of the same name.