Yesterday, my work held their annual auction, which would be weird, except I work in a school, and it’s perfectly acceptable to hock cheesy wares and make people bid exorbitant sums of money if it’s in the guise of giving it to children. I got all dolled up in my suit and tie, which hasn’t been untied in 4 years, because I don’t actually know how to tie a tie (if it ever gets undone, I’ll have to throw it out), and went down to the Hilton to prepare for the festivities.
My initial job is greeter, and I end up stationed in the lobby to make sure people realize the auction is downstairs. If I had to offer only one piece of advice to you, it would not be this, but this is good advice anyway: never stand near an unmanned door in a nice hotel if you are wearing a suit. Every single person who entered had a question for me: “Can you tell me where the bathrooms are?” “Why doesn’t my keycard work?” “How is the food here?” “Do you offer valet service?” “There’s a dead hooker in my room and I have no idea how she got there,” etc. I had to keep telling people the concierge was right around the corner, and I actually had a woman say to me “Yes, but there’s a line over there.” Maybe that’s because he can help you? Right, fine ma’am, what was your question again? Oh, I recommend the crab etouffee, it’s quite succulent. You say the bathroom door is locked? Well just use the potted plant over there. That’s what I did. Fuck, I hate rich people...
And on top of that, I’m wearing a star necklace. This is not by choice. The theme of the auction was “Starry, Starry Night,” so it makes sense to give me a big gold necklace with stars on it. I looked like a bizarre hybrid of James Bond and Mr. T, with a splash of Elton John thrown in for flair. All the people that I was directing downstairs looked at me as though I were insane for wearing such gaudy jewelry. But they couldn’t come right out and say, “Jesus, what are you, queer?” So they’d just make some snide remark about, “Nice necklace,” and then snicker under their breath like they’d said the funniest thing ever. Or the six people who asked me if I had gotten the necklace at Mardi Gras. Or the twelve who asked if they could buy one downstairs. I told them, “No, but I’ll sell you this one,” and they’d laugh and walk off, and I just wanted to kick them down the escalator for getting my hopes up in the first place. But you know what? That star necklace got so much attention, I’m thinking of adding it to my permanent collection. It may end up in daily rotation, along with the flashing star pin they gave us, which was designed by the military to give enemy combatants epileptic seizures if they attempt to focus on you.
I don’t have an endpiece for this yet, but seeing as how I need to get drunk and do my taxes, and yes, in that order, it’ll have to wait.
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