Queen of the Hive

Wednesday, 30th June 2021

2:45 PM

Striking combination: pink eye shadow and pink jumper – suits your complexion perfectly.

Told you weeks ago I was thinking of ways for you to be a better supervisor – I’m sure you remember: your response was to tell me you’re ‘pretty good’ and that you’re ‘better than the last guy’, who you went on to explain was an abusive, belittling wanker who was forced to stand-down – forced to stand-down from the job because he was literally just so nasty to everyone..

Now I think of it, just coming into work each day while he was running shit would’ve farkin’ sucked – for everyone – wonder how long they let him stay and ruin a whole department’s day before finally telling him he’s out.

Wonder if he was like that at home with his wife and kids..

Anyhow, you obviously shouldn’t be using an abusive wanker as your yardstick to measure how well you are doing Babe, nor Isaac since he’s obviously going to avoid saying anything that might make you feel bad and doesn’t wanna piss you off.

You can ignore anything I say, of course: just dismiss it if you like – I’ll just consider it a project until some other sparkly thing grabs my attention.

Though, you’d already know that if not for the fact I like you I wouldn’t bother thinking about any these improvements because I would not give a shit either way, plus watching you fuck up over and over would amuse me, so if I didn’t like you well, I would just shuddup and watch you fail for entertainment.

My reason for putting any energy into thinking about ways to improve your supervisory smoothness isn’t an act of pure altruism of course and not only because altruism is a human behaviour that truly does not exist, but because I stand to gain plenty by improving you: better supervisor, better resource management, better workplace, better job for me and this is only one aspect of the ‘improvements’ to housekeeping as a whole I would like to see happen: With our rate increased, PLUS better equipment, PLUS superior co-workers PLUS the greatest supervisor on the planet, we will have the best housekeeping team and I will have the best housekeeping job – it’s the sum of all these things combined I want, with Supervisor 2.0 is only one improvement I want to see happen.

You should be fighting management and the owners to get us room attendants hourly rate bumped-up: we deserve it of course, and the faster that rate is increased, the sooner you’ll be able to offer it as a benefit to working with us – instead of telling them ‘Oh yeah, here at The Carrington we take care of our employees! We offer, well, the same shitty minimum wage; same shitty casual contract; same cheap-arse owners; same basic, shitty job you can get with any other hotel anywhere from Blackheath to Botany Bay now I think of it, but sure yeah sure – we look after our employees PLEASE COME WORK FOR US WE ARE DESPERATE!.’

You’re our supervisor, our team-leader; you should be our advocate too and fight for us to be not only be treated better than we are, but better than other employees of the hotel because we are your employees!

Think of housekeeping like your own litter of stray puppies you’ve gathered together: you wouldn’t *want* your puppies to be mistreated, would you? Or underfed? Or left with an empty water bowl?

Yet management have left us so long we’ve had to drink water from the toilet this whole time while all the other puppies get warm milk every day and why can’t we have milk too? How much longer do we have to lap-up toilet water? 🙁

And yes – that’s about as far as I can stretch the puppy metaphor, I think, but you get it.

We’re your puppies.

Anyway, it’s not a simple thing either: isolating little aspects of an entire personality then using words alone to draw a line between those character traits and the points at which they clash and grind against all the different aspects of the job AND make it read as something cohesive and concise enough to understand.

I could spend a week ironing the thoughts out, adding, removing then editing and re-editing and still not have it as succinct as I’d like: even though in my head these thoughts all happen instantly in ambiguous visuals that make perfect sense simply as concepts – without words it’s easy to think the thoughts but converting them to words for another brain to absorb is another thing.

It’s also not to suggest you don’t have MANY aspects of the job down beautifully – you do – but heaping compliments on people comes about as unnaturally for me as it clearly does, you – finding holes and things that need fixing are more my specialty – I’ll leave the compliments for the boyfriend to slather-on.

Maybe I’ll just forget about bothering: it’s already getting all branchy and complicated and I’ve barely started even writing-up the traits that’re causing you problems.

Or, maybe I’ll consider this my project for the week and not even bother kidding myself into thinking I could get it all down in one evening.

Dingus -> Supervisor 2.0

Here then, is what you might want to start doing to stop staff from stomping-out in anger or quitting with the shits and maintain relative happiness in the awesome cleaners you already have: already have, you already have – I’ve stuttered those words to draw your attention to the fact because they’re much more valuable to you than the cascade of new try-outs always coming and going or just not showing up when they don’t feel like it.

Prioritise reliable cleaners you already have:

Every day, all the rooms are split evenly between us and we each go off to do our portion of the work – prioritise your regulars – over and above any new arrivals – because your regulars are the ones who keep housekeeping functional with next to no input from your required – don’t take these workers for granted: it’s not just Debbie or Tony or Isaac who’re valuable, but every one of us who are there every day doing our work automatically; without standing around waiting to be told what to do.

Fuck the Phoebes and Skyes of the world and fuck anyone else who won’t show up when they’re meant to or make excuses why they can’t work while they’re there.

You’re job is to hire reliable, physically capable workers who get shit done: stop focusing your time and effort into coddling those who can’t or won’t do the job they applied for – anyone who won’t fully engage the position or aren’t capable of doing the job are wasting everyone’s time and taking your energy away from doing something useful – let those fuckers apply for a volunteer position until they’re ready to actually work; we’re not a charity and they’re not our problem.

Every time a rostered cleaner doesn’t show up for work, they throw-out the routine and we have to pickup their rooms for them, which is fine on a quiet day, but days where we’ve already got 7+ rooms each to do, they fuck us all around.

And I know you can’t be picky right now of course, but I’m trying to emphasise that no matter how many people might be working at a given point in time, unreliable workers and those who won’t do the work the rest of us do are just sand in the gears of housekeeping: distracting you away from helping your good workers work better and fracturing your focus all over the place, when it would be better invested in those of us who are actually there to work.

See, the original *thought* has started meandering and branching out – maybe I should just auto-write everything then trim it all down to tight, neat little points.

Stop acting like you don’t make mistakes:

You unwillingness or inability to admit you might actually make bad decisions and choices – small as most are: I’ve seen since I started there.

Most of your fuck-ups are insignificant in the scheme of things, but refusing to ever admit when you might have made a mistake makes you look much worse than if you just shrugged and admitted to it: scrambling to get downstairs as quick as you can to suck Sheila’s arse is so teenage and an extremely unattractive personality trait – in anyone.

It’s not cute or cunning or any mark of intelligence.

It’s something small people do in a panic to avoid others finding out they’re small people: simply accepting the blame for their own shit instantly stops them being small people in the first place – that one thing is easy to fix, but that’s only, one thing.

Be honest and open with us:

Management obviously lie to us plenty: you’re our supervisor, you are supposed to be with us.

Lying to me or others is also super bad and I don’t mean sexy-as-shit, Villanelle-bad, I mean bad management and dumb: you might get away with it the first couple times but once someone realizes you’ll say anything to get someone doing what you want them to do, they’ll automatically distrust what you say and BANG – just like that you’ve isolated yourself from that individual because you cannot be trusted – swapping years of trust for getting them to do one or two things you want them to at that moment in time.

Same with manipulation: you’ll only get away with it a handful of times before that person becomes shut-off behind a wall of distrust anytime they hear you asking them something.

Tuesday, 29th June 2021

12:24 PM

Some old, half dead arsehole just gestured at his own facemask as he walked past – indicating I should put mine on – prompting me to tap my pocket with my iced coffee to indicate I don’t feel like wearing it and whatever he said next, I dunno – I’m almost completely deaf in both ears now thanks to all that ear cleaning so “Can’t hear ya”, was my entire contribution to the exchange.

Really, I know I should’ve stopped once they started getting clogged but figured I’d clean them once last time yesterday so now they’re completely fucked though it’s definitely peaceful: all I can hear is a very heavily muffled white-noise in the background, even in the middle of a shopping centre.

I could yeah, I think I could manage quite alright completely deaf: really what’re you missing?

Without vision, I could not not leer at beautiful women but hearing pfft: I’m plenty sure plenty of people would love to find I’ve stopped talking altogether which really wouldn’t take long – within a few days of never knowing what people are saying, you’d already stop bothering to convey an answer in all but the most simple ways – thumbs-up, shaking your head, nodding and other miming would get you through almost every interaction and anything more complicated, you could easily (and more effectively) explain by writing or texting.

I’ve gotta edit-down Sunday’s entry: I’ve repeated myself numerous times and the second half reads much harder than it was meant to.

I’ve gotta clean my ears again.

Can’t clean my ears again.

And yes: we’re all on a mandatory two week ‘holiday’ thanks to this stupid virus – the hotel closing it’s doors at 11:00 AM on Sunday morning.

With only $1,000 and no ‘job-keeper’ available, I’m going to have to actually pay attention to not waste money because what’s that, three weeks until I see money again since even if we’re back at work monday-week, there’s still another week after that until payday.

Weirdly, I was thinking on my way to work Sunday morning, that I wouldn’t mind a few days off to just chill and sleep-in and relax for a bit: then I get there and make a joke to Sheila “When are WE going to lock-down?” and am stunned to hear her reply ‘At 11:00 AM – we’re just giving guests a chance to make arrangements to leave before then.’

“Oh! Shit! That was a joke Sheila.. I did not expect that answer..”

May as well be two years – I’ll be fat and lazy after two weeks without work.

Sure was creepy in there too after closing: nobody there but us housekeeping staff finishing-up plus a few management staff – hotel lobby, reception area and hallways all in darkness and even with the four or five cleaners there, we made barely any noise so it felt like I was the only person there half the shift.

Come to think of it, there was only four of us there I’m pretty sure – Diana, Dingdong, Marina and myself – plus Amanda and the boyfriend, which we could very easily give a title like Brangelina they shadow each other so much: Amandisaac.. Isaamanda.. anyway, that’s only 4 room cleaners.

Really I wanna fix some things around there including a pay increase for room cleaners, but mentioning it to Marina I’d not even thought about everyone else signing anything when she’s text back “I’m not signing anything!”, like, everyone’s sick of the variable hours and dirt-cheap payrate but nobody gives a shit about doing anything to change it – ever.

I can show them payslips I’ve still got in my cupboard for the $32/hour I got for casual school cleaning and that shit was only half the work of housekeeping: we should get $32/hour for what we do and if the hotel raised the hourly rate, that one thing would mean they would instantly elevate themselves to paying the highest rate in town for housekeeping staff: that alone would make many people think twice before leaving for another job and may even course cleaners at other hotels to move to ours, plus be just a fair rate for the work we’re doing.

As it is, anyone can find a better job than cleaning rooms, which is why one of the four cleaners left in the last fortnight and I’m sure many many more very good workers have just dropped the carrington for something better, only to be replaced by some fucktard who won’t work, can’t work or have something mentally wrong with them – these people in turn, don’t last very long and the whole time this continual cyclical cleaner shit is going on, there’s a base staff of not enough for busy times, but still too many for quiet times..

Spose there’s no way to avoid the quiet/busy disparity in hours since it’s booking-dependant and I don’t even think there’s a way for that to be ‘fixed’ so whatever, but they can definitely fi the poor pay-rate; definitely give hours to people who actually work and fuck the lazy arseholes who half-arse everything or just don’t show up half the time and they can definitely pay us to reflect the importance of good cleaners at the hotel instead of just talking bullshit about how much they love our work.

Raising the hourly rate alone would be a start: making the position itself more valuable to the cleaners who fill it will attract better quality workers who actually feel like management and the owners do value the work they do.

Police clearances too: filter out the weird, creepy, skeevy arseholes who only slither in the front door grinning like used-car salesmen while over-working the ‘harmless funguy’ affectation because no other job will have them, results in places like the hotel ending-up with fuck only knows *what* kind of creatures working there – like they’ve any right to be spending their days in a workplace with good, decent human beings to begin with.

But hourly rate increase first: only for room attendants and maybe kitchen dish-pigs (even without going in the kitchen I am 100% sure the lowest rung in the kitchen hierarchy of employees are working much harder than the rest), since that’s easily implemented and won’t cost them employees the way police record checks would.

Which they would: how many people already working there would need to be let go of for failing a record check?

I guess they could implement them for new employees only, that would maybe work and by insisting on clean records AND providing $32/hour they’ve already made the position of housekeeping room attendant a much better job to have, which in turn will make people much more inclined to wanna keep that job and much LESS likely to leave for a better job.

You might not think the police clearance thing is important, but it’s the difference between employees who have spent their life being law-abiding citizens and those who’ve spent their lives smoking crack and committing the vast spectrum of assorted categories of criminal acts – both these types of people are polar opposites in how they’ve lived their lives, and though not being a life-long criminal doesn’t mean a person is an excellent, lovely human being they’re – statistically – going to be more reliable, more trustable, more morally intact and more decent generally than someone who’s spent long enough in prison to learn all kinds of nasty new shit from other inmates.

About filling the hotel with a better quality of people, really, but realistically: given there’s already hundreds of employees working there and the hotel seems to operate on a skeleton-crew to save the owners money, spose it’s realistically impossible to be implementing record checks when it could be 20% of employees there right now would be let go of if they can’t show a clear record and replacing them if half of the already low number of new applicants fail a record check too.. yeah.. how would that ever work practically?

Guess it wouldn’t.

In that respect and because there’s no checks or balances in place at application level, I fully endorse and engage in the ‘grapevine’ of cleaner talk: if some staff member goes ape-shit at someone else, we ALL know ALL about it within an hour of it happening and – in-lieu of any other kind of security measures management should be enforcing – that grapevine is pretty efficient for what it is.

Like a single, collective consciousness: even shit that doesn’t warrant being talked about makes its way around the staff like an electric pulse – stand on the top floor and fart in a hallway and within minutes, front desk is chuckling about it.

Other things I want to fix are more difficult and can’t be neatly written in a word document of recommendations, or maybe they can, depends how direct and honest you wanted that document to be..

Like, if the owner says ‘Sure Diana, we will get you another Dyson Stick vacuum for quickly cleaning under moved beds etcetera’ or ‘Good news! We ordered name badges yesterday – they’re on the way!’ or ‘Okay, we hear you cleaners – we’ll get the model of vacuum cleaners you want if you hate the other ones so much’, they need to fucking do it: lying through their teeth at us is a great way to make everyone feel like (a) management are cheap arseholes full of nothing but shit, (b) do not give a fuck about improving housekeeping based on what we need and (c) are SO, SO out of touch with the work housekeeping does that they’re just clueless arseholes and there’s zero point in even engaging them at all – they don’t listen, they don’t know and they wouldn’t care if they did.

Not one of the requests they said would be met in that staff meeting was, met: not only my request for a pacvac upstairs, I mean they asked all of us what we need, and we all agreed on what was needed; Sheila and Derek both said that’s fine and they’d organise our requests – none of which were anything outrageous at all – then nothing happened.

Well, we got one new vacuum cleaner: the model of machine we all specified that we hated – nothing else.

And Amanda herself is probably the most difficult to fix, because Amanda’s issues are personality related so not as simple as following through on buying us some new equipment: Amanda’s shit all revolves around her ego-management problems and how that ego clashes with other people, from what I’ve ascertained.

I’ll write-up the chasms in her personality tomorrow.

Sunday, 27th June 2021

5:04 PM

I um, yeah..

I’ve come home and continued cleaning my ears – astonished by the fact I’m still getting wax out, though not much anymore and I’m not entirely sure this wax isn’t new since it’s constantly being created and what the fuck – do YOU know exactly how much ear wax is created each day by an average ear? And since I’ve got a fast metabolism that’ll mean faster ear wax creation? Or do fat fucks ooze more wax because they eat more fat?

Is it based on diet at all?

I know precisely none of the answers to the questions above, but I do know I’ve blocked my left ear by continually fucking around shaving cotton buds in there.

So I google ‘human ear anatomy’ and am puzzled to see every illustration shows the ear canal as a tube that’s aligned pretty much perfectly horizontal – so why is it when I’m slowly sticking the cotton tips in they go slightly diagonally upwards kinda? Why is that?

Wait this page is lagging or something I gotta change devices..

Among the other images of human ear nastiness, I find the cream of the crop very quickly: a horse tick inside a human ear, chewing the ear-drum away..

Both awful and disgusting: to think there’s so many tiny things that can crawl inside your ear where it’s warm and humid and do whatever bugs and parasites do: can you imagine what that would feel like? Having some spider-like nasty with claws not only scratching at the inside of your ear, but burrowing into your ear-drum – like a dog trying to bury something in soil made of meat..



Think I might yeah, leave my ears alone.

Next time you have the genius idea to spray an entire hallway of bathrooms in concentrated bleach because some dingdong says that coating whole rooms in corrosive shit is a great idea, you will be the one cleaning that corrosive shit afterwards.

Our “Queen” – oh yeah I’m using quotes now – took it upon herself to suddenly spray straight bleach all over my bathrooms this morning without any mention of doing it until after she’d done it: Fucking Debbie suggested it because she spotted a fleck of mold in some tile grout and even as she mentioned it to me first, I said I hate bleach because it RUINS CLOTHES, but figured if Debbie’s dumb enough to want to fuck her own clothes slopping around in bleach she’s welcome to it.

But Fucking Debbie had no intention of actually doing any of the shit she was suggesting.

Ten minutes later: I’m making beds when Amanda appears at my door telling me she’s just sprayed ALL THE BATHROOMS with bleach as if she’s saved the hotel from the horrors of imperfect tile grout then tells me it’ll fuck my clothes so be careful and then nods to herself before walking away.


Ten minutes after that: I’m walking around the corner to get more super-king sheets when I see Amanda and tell her “I can’t do the bathrooms. I can’t ruin $800 worth of clothes because of 0.20c worth of bleach.” and as soon as I’ve told her – cleaning the crap from under my nails as I stood there watching her reaction – she’s starts vibrating like the Duracell bunny and tells me, ‘My god! You’re SO HARD Jason!’, which I’m really not: we’re told to wear nice clothes because it’s a nice hotel, so the clothes I’m wearing are not compatible with bleach and Amanda – twitching with stress or calm as a cow – knows this and should’ve had at least enough foresight to realize that covering bathrooms with chemicals that destroy clothing – without any notice to whoever’s meant to be cleaning those bathrooms – at the bare minimum – displays a staggering lack of consideration.

Probably did consider it, then thought it’d be funny to see me come out the bathroom with all my shit orange, which is where the dumbness comes-in: that she thought I would be dumb enough to just go ahead and destroy my own clothes without protest after she had done something that was completely unnecessary and based on the whim of a moron.

Ten minutes after THAT: she’s at the door again, this time holding some flimsy plastic apron that would be useless for what she’s saying I should use it for and a bunch of rags and other shit honestly, I really didn’t care enough to be looking at what she’d brought with her and was busy watching her mid-meltdown, summoning all the assertiveness she could manage to awkwardly give me an ultimatum that sat somewhere between comfortably begging and nervously blackmailing, which was really, something else to watch – insisting I can either agree to do the bathrooms, or stop what I’m doing and go sign-out now.


While I love giving ultimatums I cannot tolerate receiving them, so signing-off and leaving was the only response I was going to give to that shit – soon as I’ve finished the bed I’m doing.

Ten minutes after THAT: I’ve returned my key, board and bucket before going for a little wander to find Amanda before I go – just to make sure she doesn’t want me to finish the rooms themselves before leaving and I AM leaving, because there’s no fucking way I’m turning a full set of good work clothes into shit with orange marks I can’t wear anymore because she was stupid enough to listen to some old dingdong who gets altogether too excited about guests leftover alcohol and has been pissed at work at least once in the short time I’ve been there.

I don’t find her on the first floor however, then something happens – my sense of work ethnic kicks-in maybe: Amanda’s got the pissies right now – hence telling me if I won’t do the bathrooms to drop everything and sign-out immediately – but I don’t have to leave my vacuuming AND the bathrooms for her to do, so I’ll finish my rooms completely before I leave.

So fuckit: I’ll finish vacuuming and complete my rooms – leaving only the bathrooms she fucked-up, for her to do.

Yeah just so stupid: since it was just to kill some mold, she could have waited until I’d finished the bathrooms before spraying with bleach OR if she’d just asked me or MENTIONED she was about to spray bleach all over the rooms I had to clean – I would’ve told her DO NOT DO THAT: instead, fucking Debbie merely suggests bleach and Amanda’s instantly started spraying the shit all over everything just expecting someone else to be fine about destroying their clothes because of her astonishing lack of, brains.

Brainy enough to know that if I really won’t do the bleachy bathrooms, she will have to fuck her own clothes so she starts talking bullshit about how we always use bleach and we’re cleaners after all and that’s what we do and wank and wank and wank – I just let her go on spitting out any lies she could think up to get me in those bathrooms while I look up at her from the bed I’m tucking-in and bite my lip.

She didn’t do anything to change my mind of course, because my mind was already decided and she was talking shit.

Plus, that ultimatum: ‘obey me or leave now’, left me only the second option, because I don’t obey dumb commands.

She wanted me to go in each bathroom, turn on the shower and wash that straight bleach away, like that shitty, little, napkin-sized plastic apron would do fucking anything to save my $450 boots while bleach-filled water splashes around the floor the whole time I’m doing that and in SIX BATHROOMS.. fuckin, seriously and now she’s talking faster and faster.. panicking more and more..


In the end, I stayed to do the bathrooms, but Amanda did not get her way exactly since – as I started this section explaining – I didn’t even go near anything that might have had bleach on it and even to walk on the floors, laid towels around and walked on them so no part of me came in contact with any tile at all – just to be 100% sure.

Course if I had shittier work clothes I would not have minded the bleach, but we’re TOLD to dress nicely, which I do and even knowing that Amanda never even looked like she might admit what a fucking dumb thing that was to do in the first place: especially when she didn’t spray all the other bathrooms around the hotel – only the Traditionals because DEBBIE spotted a fleck of mold in some grout.

Fuck, me, DRUNK what a hassle..

Next time Debbie gives you a bright idea, tell her to shut the fuck up and if you’re wanting to suddenly use bleach or acids or chorine or anything that eats holes in shit, tell me the day before so I know to wear clothes I don’t give a shit about.

All four of the large commercial cleaning companies I’ve worked for here in the mountains schedule specific days or weeks to come in and do floor stripping or other ‘deep’ cleaning of sites, so everyone knows to wear shitty clothes on those days to prevent their better work clothes being completely fucked and not a single commercial cleaning company worth spitting on ever uses bleach anymore – for anything: they don’t even order the shit and it’s never one of the chemicals in any cleaners cupboards.

Not only is it considered too hazardous to use, viruses and bacteria develop a resistance to bleach when it’s used routinely so even hospitals won’t crack out that shit unless there’s some full-on outbreak going on they need to sterilize against.

Anyway, my clothes are fine because I didn’t come in contact with any bleach because I didn’t continue the stupidity by doing what you wanted me to do, so no need to worry about it now, but hopefully you’ll think twice before randomly spraying concentrated chemicals all over rooms someone else has to clean in future?

Better yet, text me first next time and I’ll tell you whether it’s a fuck-up waiting to happen, before you do ahead and do it.

And finally, just admitting when you’ve done a dumb thing and owning it goes a long way with people you know – instead of trying to blame someone else when you fuck up: nobody’s called me ‘too arrogant to work with’ before quitting the job and never coming back – stop making like other people are the ones who’re difficult, when most days we just do our work and go home without any drama.

The drama today, was because you fucked-up: just admit it and next time Debbie tells you to do anything, either have her follow through and do it herself or ignore her.

Have a good week Dingus.

Saturday, 26th June 2021

2:44 PM

It is Saturday right?

Has to be: my phone and laptop tell me so, though for a moment there I’m flicking back over the last three days and saw yesterday’s entry was for Thursday and I know I wrote it yesterday, (I think?) so panicked thinking it was Friday because it has to be if yesterday was yeah..

This is what working to a roster will do: every week it changes, so there’s no gauge of days because there’s no set weekend nor any five-day-week well, there is a five day week but it’s split and broken-up by days off and I frequently now end-up asking people “What day is it today again?” because I’m genuinely not sure, because I’ve lost track.

I’m sure it’s Saturday..

I have to trim my hair, but probably won’t get around to it because.. stuff.

Cerissa helped me finish my last room yesterday and I remember – first thing in the morning – having to actually remove my left ear-bud to hear what she was babbling at me in the bathroom I was cleaning: that stopped being necessary once I’d changed the long-tap for both left and right earphones to enable ambient sound through but at the time I couldn’t hear a fuckin’ thing she was saying to me until I’ve pulled it out and heard ‘DO YOU HAVE A PEN’..

No need to SHOUT Amanda god..

Then, I remembered Thursday was a day off, which must have been when I purchased the ear-buds so this was Friday Amanda was yelling about a pen which was yesterday’s update, makes today Saturday.

Know what: nobody else gives a shit enough to say a word about anything – why should I right?

Hard though: when you can see a whole assortment of things that not only annoy people but change the dynamic and damage the opinions and attitudes of workers in little incremental steps over time that’ll also take time to repair again..

Yet I’m sure she is only able to either ignore what I say or see it as plain criticism – instead of seeing it as an outside view of things she could cherry-pick to fix and improve her own group of workers and housekeeping generally.. no point really: I’ll just join the rest watching from a safe distance as she digs her own hole, I spose.

Half an hour before bed to clean my ears ready for the morning: I’ve bought two 60 packs of those baby cotton ear cleaning tips in the past two days – just to be sure I don’t run out.

Yeah sure I’ve cleaned them a lot in the past few days, but ears can’t be TOO clean and since getting these new ear-buds I don’t want my ears getting dirty or to have the little mesh bit getting all waxed-up – amazing really, how much wax actually exists right up there and I’m not even sure if removing ALL of it’s a good idea but since I’ve switched to the normal cotton tips that’re thin enough to get right up there, I’m committed now.

I realize we’re not apparently meant to clean our ear-holes at all – just let the wax fall out when it feels like falling out, but I’ve got high-definition sound to maintain and fully intend to have ears clean enough to capitalize on the fact.

Marina won’t be there anyway so there’ll be no reason to take the ear-buds out at all tomorrow – unless I’m struck by the masochistic urge to hear Amandas’ yapping.

Friday, 25th June 2021

4:44 PM

Ahlei just walked past me while I was waiting for the bus outside Woolies and waved at me.

She sounded kinda like she said something to me too, probably just hello but the tone of voice and yeah – we would’ve made a pretty well matched pair, you know.. still would if not for the fact that once any dick has been near any woman I find attractive they become, well, filthy in my eyes and any bond of attraction that existed up until then becomes irreversibly destroyed.

Dogs and other lower animals that lack self-awareness may be happy to slop around in someone else’s leftover filth, but I find the thought alone just revolting.

Course there are exceptions to every rule and there is one exception to this rule which would be the only possible reason I would ever consider pushing my disgust to the side: if I broke up with a woman who genuinely loved me, then ignored her until she got with someone else truly believing I was no longer interested, it’d be me who drove her to that and that would be the only situation where I’d be able to accept what she’d done and pickup a prior relationship.

But I would never do that – leave a woman who loved me alone and wondering – so for all intents and purposes there’s really no exception to the aforementioned rule.

Samsung Buds+

Yeah, you know I’ve GOT to update on how these performed at work where I’m truly active all day instead of just at home testing them out and there’s two things that stood out to me as quite remarkable.

Firstly – and quickly since this is a simple thing but worth mentioning: these sexy little fuckers didn’t so much as shift in my ear even once in the five or so hours I was working – let alone ever look like they might fall out my ears at any point

Marina is not understanding my replies to her that I was not at all ‘gloomy’ today: but stressed because I was behind, and behind because I’d made-up a king meant to be two split singles which cost me time when I was already having a cold/slow start to the morning.

Of course, all she saw was me walk into the linen room wound as a spring so maybe figured I had the shits, but nope: just behind in my rooms and if you start the day behind in your workload, you just get more and more behind and increasingly stressed.

Silly she-goat.

Anyway (secondly), these Samsung earphones block ambient noises so well, I literally have to pause whatever I’m listening to, to be able to hear – even then only faintly – the vacuum cleaner I’m currently using – to tell whether it’s switched on or not.

They’re that good at blocking environmental sounds – of course you cannot hear anything anybody is saying even when they’re right in front of you.

This issue of near-complete blocking of environmental sound is solved with the option (Ambient Sound: [ low | med | high ]) to use the microphones in each ear-bud to input stereo sound from the room you’re in, then amplify it into your ears – I know it’s fucking awesomely cool.

Cooler still, is the ‘extra’ setting that’s gotta be enabled from the Labs menu page, that boosts sounds within your environment even further and at this level I can hear a digitally converted version of the sounds and noises within the room or place I’m in, but amplified: amplified to the point I can hear people’s shoes scuffing on carpet, concrete when outside, everybody’s talking, birds outside but it’s all like, at 200% loudness to how my ears would hear it alone.

I knew there was a ‘spy’ app and didn’t even get to downloading it before discovering the default Samsung Gear app comes with all the options you could want to turn these tiny, gorgeous little buds – with a tiny tweeter and woofer plus three speakers in each – into really effective hearing aids, which – while not necessary at my age and since my hearing’s fine – is very, very useful because it picks-up and amplifies absolutely *everything* and sure that’s bad when you’re puffing out garbage bags or clanking cups together, but it’s brilliant the rest of the time.

The hardware itself is an amazing thing: for just a few hundred dollars you can now have your own 5G bionic hearing provided by devices with exceptional sound quality, insane battery life and as small as a Peanut M&M.

Like always with an all new generation of tech you’ve not seen before, you think you’re getting an improvement to what you already have until you actually use them and realize you’ve bought a whole lot more than just a straight upgrade – you’ve bought the innovation in research, manufacturing and hardware.

A batman movie prop two years ago – now real.

Can’t wait for contact lenses with liquid screens, flexible cameras and digital zoom..

Thursday, 24rd June 2021

2:22 PM

I’ve solved the extreme aggravation of corded earphones, with one more personal upgrade and by god, what a beautiful upgrade too: ‘personal upgrades’ – for anyone unfamiliar with my use of the term – isn’t simply purchasing an item that’s better than something I already have generally, but purchasing a replacement for something I use daily – items I always have with me when I leave to go anywhere each day; upgrading any these things is always a worthwhile investment because they in-use so constantly they’re practically part of myself and I never, ever regret upgrading things so personal to me.

11 hours of play time, dual speakers in each bud for a total of four to output true surround sound, a microphone on each side providing stereo phone calls and touch-pad for control, they also look so much nicer since there’s no little stick things jutting put of them so that “dickhead factor” of the pins hanging out your ears is eliminated – they look more like slick miniature hearing aids than most the other Bluetooth earphones in the market and are well, beautifully designed..

Seeing how they look so much like little hearing aids it occurred to me there’s gotta be a ‘Spying’ app that allows them to be used to eavesdrop on quiet conversation and of course, there is and though who knows how practically useful that’ll be. I’ve built my own “Spy” amplification ear-piece from a $30 electronics DIY kit that worked remarkably well, and that was a decade ago plus that was old tech even then, so I can only imagine the bleeding-edge microphone/speaker/amplification hardware in a pair of Samsung earphones would be incomparably better at boosting quiet sounds than even real hearing aids and certainly a shitty kit.

I have never heard of Sound by AKG, but if Samsung use the technology as a feature of their own brand of tech, they’ll be a massive step up from the last proprietary sound technology I used – the now outdated Beats Audio Inc, which is still around in teenage-grade garbage and other shit like that.

For years now, I’ve been happily using a particular Sony model of bluetooth earphones with a battery on each side that sits around your neck like a necklace and I grew to love those earphones because they’re perfectly balanced – physically when you’re wearing them – so very comfortable.

But the pair I had just spontaneously died on me and looking around the computer store in town I find they’re outta stock while the cord on these standard Sony earphones I’ve had to use the last few days is driving me fucking, MENTAL.

So I decide I’ll cough up the $179 for some other apparently reasonable brand of wireless earphones and go grab a pair in white, get to Coles then buy a coffee and just as I was about to walk up to wait for the train down to Penrith, I realize that if I buy these, I’ll regret not coughing-up another $120 for the better ones – forever.

As long as I own these $180 average quality ear buds I will resent buying them a little more, and a little more until I start hating both them and my own stupidity at buying a mid-range product: I mean they’re already standard, consumer-grade sound hardware – even the $300 ones aren’t top-of-the-line professional equipment, so taking it down another notch with those $180 ones..

I have to go back and swap it – before I open the box.

I did, now as a result I’m not only 100% happy with the earphones I bought, I’m 200% happy that I’ll never have to regret buying the other, cheaper pair: as the Arnotts’ biscuit parrot says – “there is no substitute for quality” and it’s true in every facet of life.

Thank god for you, Arnott’s parrot.


Again, vege burgers and my focus on them lately is due only to the fact I’ve stopped bothering to stop for the breakfast chicken and egg burger I started buying every morning: one day last week, his eftpos was unavailable one morning and though that didn’t really mean I planned to never buy anything there again, it turned out that way because as godly as those burgers were, they really were slowing me down at work all morning – they left me in a semi-comotose and sleepy state; a state that’s great for the feel-goods but terrible for moving fast for hours after eating them..

So, no more chicken burgers for breakfast from that point onward.

I was buying southern-style ingham chicken burger fillets and having those for dinner for a few days, then I decided to try the vege ‘pattie mix’ which turned out to be just fine though at $5.50 for probably less than the four chicken fillets I would’ve got, I’ll eventually find a cheaper option than this hipster, vegan-branded fuckin’ overpriced horseshit: when you first mix it, all you smell is potato and I’m very confident that deb mashed ‘tatoes with some ground-down beans or lentils would be a quarter of the price of this shit and allow me to customize my patties how I like.

Yeah the photo above is one the vegetable patties (just add boiling water!) fried up on a brioche bun with Colby again, basil pesto, a gob of tomato chutney, a squeeze of kewpie mayonnaise and some fresh sliced white onion – it’s fuckin’ delicious, seriously and unlike a standard meat-filled burger, I can stuff two of these in me at night and never for a moment feel over-fed or bloated or like I’m half in a food coma, because it’s that much lighter than meat or even egg.

And yeah yeah, of course there was a lid or top-half of the brioche bun: I took the photo before pressing it on the burger though obviously so the fillings are fully visible.

Shower, eat second burger, plug fucking-awesome-sexy-as-shit new earphones in so they fully ready for tomorrow, then bed. ZzZzz

Oh and I forgot to mention: as well as the 11 hours listening and 7 hours phone talk-time these godly little fuckers are able to hold in charge, the case itself additionally holds a further 11 hours in a full charge cycle and if I still manage to find myself with flat earphones in spite of all that, simply placing them in the case for 3 minutes will give me 1.5 hours of charge again – that’s some bullet-fast charging, that shit is – they’re also so comfortable I haven’t been able to feel them in my ears at all tonight and I’ve had ’em in all night yet there’s not been the slightest hint they might slip or fall out – not once.

Beautiful, they are – as they’d wanna be for cutting-edge Samsung wearable tech and also yes: they’re fully controllable with my Samsung Watch and seamlessly integrated with Spotify.

Wednesday, 23rd June 2021

4:22 PM

We find out today that two more cleaners have quit: that’s four housekeeping staff resigning in less than two weeks.

Just like rats off a sinking ship.

First Lizanne walks out in the middle of a shift claiming Amanda is arrogant; other day the new guy who started a few weeks ago had a disagreement with Amanda which led to him being absent for several days with the shits; and now, two more have left and though these last two didn’t say they left because of Amanda, they also evidently don’t feel friendly enough towards Amanda to stay even an extra week to help her out with her short staffing issues – instead fleeing the first chance they get.

On top of the above and though *I* have not quit: after being super-sweet when she wanted me to be there at seven in the morning for a PA shift, she immediately teamed up with a little high-school cow to act like a smart bitch toward me the moment I’d finished the PA shift then come upstairs to help stripping beds – this reset her likability to about, mm, zero and means next time she needs someone there at sunrise to clean public areas she’ll have her work cut-out trying to get me to do her any other favours if I don’t feel like doing the particular thing already.

No amount of sweet or cutesy works once you know a person is fake as rubber dog-shit.

Really stupid – being nasty with Lucy just hours after I’d finished the PA shift: you need to get a lot better at manipulation if you ever expect to successfully use people.

If I were you right now Amanda, I’d be starting to panic over my lack of ability to retain staff – especially when half have said you are the reason they left: when I started two months ago, the hotel was desperate for cleaning staff and now – two months later – I think what, six cleaners have come and gone and the hotel’s more desperate for cleaning staff than when I got there.

Well there’s one other new guy, but he only joined two weeks ago and he’s already stayed home several days with the shits because, Amanda tells us, he ‘doesn’t like being told what to do’ and he’s way too emotionally unstable to be there long; he will end-up being fired for abusing Amanda or stalking Amanda or he’ll just stop coming into work one day soon.

She also told me he’s asked her whether she’d let him ‘take a look at’ her car for her which of course made me instantly think about how cheaply you can order magnetic GPS trackers now online that can be clacked onto the underside of any vehicle in a second and ten minutes later – the moment she pulls into her driveway – he knows precisely where she lives.

I could be wrong, but whatever, the dood gives me a bad vibe and so far, well he’s told Amanda he’s a mechanic, he’s told Marina he is an army veteran and told myself he’s been working in the mines: all I know for certain – there’s no criminal record checks or clearances at the hotel and I’ve never seen him around town while I’m out the way I have most other people who’re locals, which tells me he’s only just come to Katoomba and applied for the first job where nobody will question a grimy record, maybe.

This doesn’t necessarily mean much on it’s own, but stacked on top of the multi-career stories, the offer to look at the cars of women he’s only just met and his general, slightly ‘off’ demeanor, body language etc all trigger red flags for me and although I’m not finding Amanda very likable at the moment, I still cannot help but feel a tiny bit protective of any tiny woman I know – even co-workers who behave like nasty little bitches.

Care enough to not wanna see you stalked or raped or strangled at least and my antennae are astonishingly sharply honed to seeing what’s wrong with people.

Not specifics: I can’t tell you all the wrong things a person has done, but I can tell you what type of wrong a person is – at their core.

Anyway, I know exactly how to fix all the staff problems completely (and without having to change supervisors), but there’s no point in my telling anyone the things that need to happen to keep happy cleaners: nobody would listen – let alone do anything.

So, I’ll keep it to myself and just continue refining this multi-faceted “fix” until someone worth discussing it with wants to listen: maybe start adding it into a document – a proposal of required changes – with organized titling and bullet-points so if anyone ever wants to know, I can give them the thought in a readable, cohesive format instead of flashes of webbed thoughts that don’t translate well, on the spot, verbally.

As it is, nobody I work with is worthy of enlightenment: the long-term, veteran cleaners are too hopeless to improve their position, you still seem to believe all you need are more people and everything will be a-okay while the owners, the owners barely bother to even pretend they give any fuck about us – never mind genuinely caring.

Gotta go mix my vege-burger patties..

8:20 PM

Not bad, not bad at all: I could eat these instead of chicken burgers happily and they probably won’t be nearly so filling..

Tuesday, 22nd June 2021

4:28 PM

I’ve been saying for years how Cadbury is shit chocolate – which of course their dark and milk chocolate are – but I have to say they’ve finally created one I actually like: Cadbury Caramilk says it’s caramelized white chocolate, and it’s actually worth eating: they’d still do well to lower the amount of sugar even in this chocolate, but there’s a bit less than their others and it’s not as sickly as plain white chocolate either.

Not bad..

If Whittakers made a caramel white chocolate of their own: they would do a better job, but the Cadbury’s one is edible.

Monday, 21st June 2021

2:36 PM

Amanda joined me to help with my check-ins this morning almost as soon as I’d got up to the Traditionals and put my bucket on the lounge: what followed, remarkably, was we completed all seven rooms in less than two hours – the first time we’d worked together like that since I was a trainee and slow as shit anyway.

Phoebe – the new mentally ill trainee without any neck – was allegedly there to help too but her contribution amounted to a whole lot of standing in the hallway doing nothing but farting with her phone, while Amanda and I did the work around Phoebe: like, unless Amanda was giving her specific instructions for one simple-arse minor task at a time, Phoebe did nothing but stand there – holding the carpet down?

As we’re finishing the sixth room, I told Amanda “This’s almost an argument in favour of cleaning in pairs..”

For some reason, she disagreed though I don’t know how she could honestly: told me some super basic bullshit about how not everyone gets on with everyone – **no shit captain obvious** – which I said is easily sorted: pair people who get on with each other – not that it would matter if the second cleaner was two rooms ahead stripping beds and doing bins and dishes while cleaner one was in some other room making the beds.

She then counter-countered with more bullshit about cleaners being so antisocial they only want to avoid talking to people, which obviously is such a generalization it’s false: sure some people don’t like talking to people and become cleaners, but most people – the average majority – are as social as um, society.

I was noticing by about this point, that Amanda was kissing this new trainees arse – really, really hard – what, with all the ‘cleaners don’t want to talk to people’ shit – as if she hadn’t yet clued onto the fact we’re in the hospitality industry or something: I’m sure the mentally ill snowflake standing in the corner giggling like a ‘tard would much rather not talk to anyone, but that’s one new trainee and a trainee who’s already said she has mental problems and does almost no work even while she’s meant to be training – when the vast majority of people try harder to show they’re worth having as employees.

She also ‘can’t’ clean bathrooms or lift heavy objects, which means making beds on her own and cleaning ah hotel rooms are both things she evidently can’t or won’t do – so why has she applied for a job cleaning hotel rooms?

And why would Amanda be sucking her arsehole so very hard, when she’s already shown she’s useless – before the couple days training is even over?

Whatever though: I could find so many ways to make improvements that would in-turn make Housekeeping work *so* much better, but no fucker there wants to change anything because it’s well, old-man-thinking at it’s finest: this is how we do it because this is how it’s always been done, so this is how we’ll keep being it because it’s always been done this way.

Management don’t want to spend any money on improving anything, even Amanda doesn’t care at all for trying anything new or different and she’s just an employee and she’s in her 20’s: you’d think she’d already have been screeching at her higher-ups by now for changes that’d make the cleaning work better, but nup.

They said they’d buy new vacuum cleaners the other day at that staff meeting right: several of the chicks, actually ALL the cleaners said they definitely want the vacuum cleaners with the wind-up cords because we all HATE having to manually wind them.

Two days later, there’s ONE new vacuum cleaner without retractable cord: in a hotel with 8 cleaners simultaneously working and 65 rooms – a single vacuum cleaner.

That model was probably only a few dollars cheaper than the ones we asked for and they agreed to get: rather than spend those few extra dollars and have cleaners who feel like at least something they’ve requested has been heard but management decide to save themselves a few dollars and fuck how much annoyance the cheaper machine causes their us every day, for years.

They also lied to me about the gold name plate and getting my own pacvac for upstairs: I got neither.

Bit disappointing: though I’ve heard the other cleaners mention how little the owners care about what staff need or request – or rather, scoffing at my naively suggesting they must – this my first and first-hand example of the owners smiling and nodding and saying whatever, then doing none of what they said they’d do.


Shopping for dinner a few hours ago, I stopped by the freezer for more chicken burger breast fillets and bought them since I’ve still got two brioche buns that need to be eaten, but then walking out I walked down the health-food aisle and spotted this hippie shit: Organic Burger Mix w/Red Lentil & Black Sesame.

So burgers for dinner again sure, but made with these patties instead and I remember having some kind of vegetarian burger at the UNSW kiosk when I was a student there years ago. I remember thinking I would hate the fake meat crap then being surprised to find that not only did I love it, it was not actually trying to simulate meat at all.

It was a burger pattie, but it’s own kinda flavour.

So, without needing further consideration I dropped it in the basket and have to go mix some up in a minute.

Now actually: I’m hungry.

Sunday, 20th June 2021

5:22 PM

Marina tells me I think to much – that I need to relax and rest my brain.

But she doesn’t understand, I like figuring things out: love getting to the bottom of anything that isn’t what it seems on the surface and logic combined with the process of elimination are almost always all you need to get to the heart – of everything.

It’s about discovering the truth: whether it be some inanimate mystery of life in general, a person or a group of people, pragmatically reducing the possibilities down to a handful of “most likelys”, then reducing those until you get to the one true cause for something happening is, well it’s just like a jigsaw puzzle you can do in your brain without ever needing any jigsaw, or puzzle, or even any physical object.

I’ve already got Marina all figured out: my high-strung and stressy Shegoat.

That’s right, I’m collecting animals and though I’ve only captured two so far – Lioness and Shegoat – that’s fine: both are exceptional specimens and endearing enough to keep me engaged, for now.


I got myself a new pair of pillows this afternoon on the way home and several twin-packs of pillowcases so I don’t have to wash any for a while – because the existing two I’ve got have gone flat to the point I’ve gotta stuff folded clothes under them to get my head raised high enough while laying on my side.

Pegs too though not for clothing, for food: tired of looking for rubber bands or the few pegs that haven’t been lost – so I can seal-up chips, biscuits and other shit that needs sealing but I gotta say I’m getting very good now at not impulse-buying any random shit that grabs my attention while I’m out: sure I bought the $450 Scarpas a few weeks ago, but they’re ridiculously good hiking books, being on my feet all day is more than justification for having them and that’s the last thing I spend a decent amount of money on: pegs and pillows obviously aren’t frivolous purchases nor shit that costs anything and outside of this kind of insignificant household thing, I’ve stopped feeling the need to buy anything altogether – except food, right, obviously the most essential items I can buy.

It’s almost annoying though, kinda, how much I spend on food now: not because anyone else was previoulsy feeding me but because I just never used to by food – whatever I wanted for dinner, I’d buy and eat it until it was gone and with dinner being my only meal of the day, I got to kind of pride myself on how little I’d eat.

Now, because of the physical demands of this job I not only need to eat breakfast, I’ve grown very much accustomed to it and well not just accustomed to, I HAVE to eat something before work – along with several real coffee’s – or I’ve flattened with an energy crash by mid-morning.

Dinner is a feast of course – compared to what I used to eat at night – and though I’m still more or less sticking with the ‘eat it til I’m sick of eating it’ approach to dinners, I’m eating much more nutrition-packed things: tonight it’ll be chicken burgers again, but with Colby cheese, mayo, sun-dried tomatoes and gherkins plus fresh-sliced, uncooked white onion and I’ll eat two of these without any nausea from being over-full – at all.

Remarkable how my attitude to food has changed, truly.


Couple of the chicks were talking about one of the cleaners who walked-out mid-shift last week: Lizanne, her name was.

Apparently, she not only thought we all sucked shit because we’re rude, nasty horrible arseholes who are ‘entitled’ and ‘rude’, but she thinks Amanda herself – our Queen and Lioness – is ‘arrogant’ and as this was being recounted to Marina and myself by this other cleaner, Amanda has walked around the corner and started heading towards us and no – there’s no ‘Ooo Amanda busted you talking about her’, since (a) we all love Amanda and not one of us have ever had anything nasty to say about her when we’re talking about her – even when she’s not there, I’ve never heard a hint of malice associated with our Foxy Supervisor and (b) we weren’t like, whispering in hushed tones about Amanda, but talking about the chick who quit and when she got close enough to participate, it was Amanda herself who added that about Lizanne saying she was arrogant.

It’s kinda strange though..

I thought that Lizanne was settling in comfortably with everyone and getting used to the workload, so hearing first that she’d walked out in a pissy-fit, then that she considered us a bunch of arseholes, well that was a bit of a surprise though I can’t say I give a shit, really: chick wasn’t even there a full two weeks before she cracked the shits and left, so it’s hardly like there was time to get to know her – let alone miss her if she goes.

Strange too – how human-based this job is: if I didn’t like the other cleaners or they all turned on me and started hating me, I wouldn’t be able to work there anymore – it’s that simple; nowhere else I’ve worked has it been SO crucial you get on with co-workers as here, and though I guess you don’t need to love them or become besties with anyone who works in house-keeping, being disliked would almost immediately spell the end of your time there – not because they’d heckle you out the building or cuss at you as you walked past each other in the halls, but because you’d just be ignored completely.

Very socially inclined group of co-workers, we are – much more than any other cleaning position I’ve held – and the staff ‘grapevine’ at the Carrington is *so* tightly woven – tell someone something on the third floor and by the time you’ve walked down the three flights of stairs, the reception desk and front office already know what you said ten minutes earlier.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it’s an extremely tightly knit staff there, which is kinda nice: I like it anyway since I’m pretty much an open book anyway and my voice projects so easily if I don’t deliberately keep it quiet, the front desk normally know what I’m saying because the fuckers can hear me three floors down 😉

Still I have no idea why my voice resonates so far, so easily because it’s not like it’s super deep OR super high pitched – it just carries really far, really efficiently.

I also rememer hearing numerous times in the five years or more I’ve lived in Katoomba, that the Carrington has a very high turn-over rate for staff – many people saying it’s a terrible palce to work – but having worked there a while now I’ve started to see that it’s not so much .. yeah, mostly I think that’s because your liking the palce is so heavily dependent on your personality ‘clicking’ with the group you work with: if you don’t get along with people, you’re going to hate being there and I can only speak for housekeeping of course but I’m sure it’s the same for people working in the kitchen or in maintenance – if you get along with your immediate work-group you’ll love it there, if you don’t, you just won’t.

Really, really reminds me of the social dynamic at the food-bank/church, but instead of having junkies, criminals, perverts and unemployed filth loitering all day to scab free shit and stink-up the atmosphere, the hotel has people who are paid to be there and work their arses off so they don’t need to spend their days scabbing like the human-waste at the church ah, probably still do – though if they do they’re doing it somewhere else now the food-bank has folded.

And that was what Ahlei wanted to tell me incidentally – since I never got round to finishing that days update: she’d stopped to tell me I was right about the church “Jase I just wanna give credit where it’s due and acknowledgement: you were right – the fuckers at the church were all filth..” and then continued to tell me “it’s like you’re psychic or something: your prophecy was correct, fuck…”

Really, Ahlei and I should just have hooked-up early on when we first met: we were always compatible with our values, attitudes and beliefs, she’s attractive and fit as fuck and we both got along like we’d known one another forever from the first week.

But of course, her ex-boyfriend was living with her and hanging around the church all day with his hippie-vegan-peace-and-love quietness just sitting in the corner, then I fucked Mandy and moved in with her and by the time that happened any thought of Ahlei was already buried somewhere in that first week of meeting anyway.

Still, here’s another ‘prophecy’ for you: Ahlei and I would still be together and unbreakable if we’d hooked up from the start – before we each hooked-up with other people.

Amazing really, how many opportunities people (oh yes, myself inclusive) just fail to even recognize when they’re right under their nose – simply because we’re too busy looking elsewhere at the time or too conceited or just too plain fucking dumb to look at someone from a slightly different angle.

Like a gemstone in the light: sure it looks like shitty cut glass while sitting on a desk, but holding it up and turning it slightly reveals an entire universe reflected back at you, that never would’ve presented had you not stopped and looked just that little bit deeper.


Saturday, 19th June 2021

5:42 PM

So I go in this morning all set to insist on my terms for agreeing to start PA in the mornings and though I hadn’t planned and thought-out all the various likely responses back and forth from her and me, I had a general visual of me standing in front of her desk, her sitting on the other site, her agreeing to whatever I say because what choice does she have after all – she needs cleaners for PA and nobody wants to be there at 6:00AM: *I* will have all the power in this little negotiation.

I get to work and go upstairs to her office, grab my board, garbage bag etcetera then head for my first room to start.

Before I’ve even finished stripping that first bed she’s in the doorway telling me ‘Hey Jase, I need a favour’ so I go over and ask what it is – fully expecting something to do with doing someone else’s room for them or some shit – but nope: instead, what followed was too distracting to remember precisely but she’s explained how she needs me doing PA tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow: only day off I have until the end of next week.

What followed that was Amanda asking in that cute-girly way: the cute girly way she’s been honing her entire life and has it perfected to the point no heterosexual male can say no to anything she asks when it’s delivered in such an artfully female way 🙂

No doubt at all that’s why Sam2 agreed to start doing PA in the mornings and he doubtless had a little list of conditions to negotiate too – a list of conditions that blew away like dust when Amanda asked him in just that particular way and his dumb male brain couldn’t refuse 🙂

So tomorrow morning I’ve gotta start PA, when two of my conditions were that I’d (1) get to choose which days I did it and (2) that I’d start next week sometime, so I KNOW which day I’ll have to get up and be there that early and see it coming or whatever.

Instead – purely because Amanda knows how to charm stupid, stupid men – I’m up at 5:30 tomorrow morning when I really don’t wanna be.

Soon as I had agreed and she’d left me to my work I’ve started thinking and became so focused on analyzing what she’d said and how she’d said it, I made the bed back up as a king before realizing it was meant to be split into two singles so had to rip it all apart and start again.

For clarification’s sake, she doesn’t do any stupid, hyper-girly ‘pwitty pweease‘ sickly sweet shit or anything like that – she just asks – but does so with her hands behind her back, pivoting on one foot and yeah looks right at you with those pretty little eyes with the flawlessly applied eyeliner forming perfectly pointed lines at the edges, then looking down, then back at you again and all the while pivoting slowly on the spot.

‘Could you please..’ could be followed by fucking anything – you find yourself unable to say no whatever it is because it’s too hard, because you like her because she’s likeable, because eyes and pivot and cute..

Just because.

It’s funny you know: all those site’s I cleaned with Broadspectrum and the ever-changing supervisors we’d see come through that company, all were perfectly organized and on top of their jobs – with their little company ipads and quarterly site inspections and all the organizing replacement fill-ins (me) for sick cleaners and those on leave etcetera – and yet you would never see these supervisors for more than half an hour every three months if they came to inspect your site while you were there too – it was such a clinical arrangement, you never got to know each other at all and couldn’t give a fuck either way which person is currently the supervisor, as long as they aren’t making your life difficult at all.

At the hotel by comparison, Amanda is here with me all day, every day and yet I’ve got no clue about half of what her position entails: I know she’s there to check everyone’s rooms when they’re finished to make sure we haven’t forgotten a garbage bin or soap or whatever and make sure they’re ‘guest ready’; I know she orders the biscuits, milks, coffee stuff and chemicals; I know she co-ordinates all the cleaning from the Laundry to PA to room cleaning and that she has to answer to the manager/owners if her staff are fucking up and dragging their arses.

But I don’t even care if she’s good at her job or not: what makes her the best supervisor I’ve ever had, is 100%, absolutely a personal thing – I like her personally and I love her personality.

Because I like her, I want to do my job well so she doesn’t get in shit with the managers or owners and I want to see her relaxed, smiley and cracking jokes and whether she’s in a foul mood and stressed or angry or happy and calm have zero impact on my liking her, because yeah whatever you don’t understand unless you’re (a) there every day and (b) me, but since I love the core of her personality, her mood fluctuations don’t have any impact on how I see her.

Matter of fact, even if she outright sucked at her job or did something occupationally terrible I would never betray her: loyal as a dog towards her, already.

Even when she’s pissing me the fuck off some days she’s still just as lovable.

100% personality.

I told her just after agreeing to get up before the sun tomorrow for her, that I’ve been starting to think about what she can do to be a better supervisor, which caused her to become, not defensive but she told me she’s thinks she’s a pretty good supervisor, and that I should’ve seen the dood who was supervising before her: a real arsehole to his staff, he would apparently belittle anyone who was going a bit slow for his liking, constantly threaten to fire cleaners who were doing shit wrong or even forgetting things like soap and shampoo and this dood was actually forced to stand down as the house-keeping supervisor purely because of how nasty he was to his staff.

All that was interesting to hear about, but she misunderstood my intent: I didn’t imply she wasn’t already a great supervisor of course, and used the word ‘better’, but she must’ve assumed I was saying she’s not up to par, which wasn’t what I was thinking or meaning of course.

What little things she might do to make herself that little bit more improved, was all I was getting at though I’ve not come to a logical, easy to explain list or anything anyway because she’s already good at what she does – I would just like to see her yeah.. whatever I’m getting tired now and starting to lose focus.

Anyway of the four or five new cleaners who have recently been coming in to train, only one is left (I think) and we’re not even sure of her – all the others have abandoned the job within two weeks: one claimed the house-keeping staff act ‘very entitled and rude’ before walking-out the hotel in the middle of a shift; one – after only cleaning two rooms all day – got offended when Amanda told him he needed to hurry up.

The one remaining cleaner we think is still going to show, came to the job saying she has mental health issues and if that’s the case – if there’s any kind of mental or emotional fragility there – she’ll not last very long at all and will be gone the first day the pressure’s on and everyone gets stressed and snappy – which they do.

Starts with Amanda, since she’s the one gets a talking to if we don’t get out rooms etcetera done and the closer to two o’clock it gets, the more stressed she gets and that rubs off on everyone else who all start getting pissy until every cleaner is just grunting as they pass each other in the hallway.

Can’t be helped: 65 rooms in 4 hours on a busy day – of course everyone’s got the shits on days like that: even divided equally between eight cleaners that’s still a shitload of work that all has to get done on a timer and though 65 rooms is a slight exaggeration, it’s not a big one – I’ve been there plenty of days now where six cleaners are rostered and we all have 7 check-ins plus another half dozen occupieds each to do.

Bed now, anyway.

Friday, 18th June 2021

6:26 PM

Our Queen wants me doing the hotels public areas as well as rooms.

PA cleaning is just the hotels name for standard commercial cleaning and the same shit I’ve been doing the last five years: early morning before guests start using them, I’ll be cleaning the staircases, hallways, the grand dining room, the library and billiard room – all those areas.

This means going back to the old school-cleaning sleep schedule of course so I’ll have to get up at 4:00 AM or so to start at 6:00 AM, clean the hotels general areas and then start cleaning rooms until 2:30-3:30 PM.

9-10 hour days: it’ll be pretty tiring, but I know the PA cleaning will be much lighter physically than the room cleaning, so as long as I don’t go full-tilt in that first four hours it should be alright – realizing too, that I don’t need to do any traveling for this additional job because it’s all at the same location and all right here in town.

Also, I don’t have to do it every day – there’s two others who do it currently, so at most I’ll be doing three of these days each week.

I’ve done the same amount of work before and I remember being so totally fucked every night when I got home I would just collapse without even eating, but I also recall just how much time every day was spent on a train traveling up or down the mountain, twice a day, and back and forth and much of the exhaustion came from all that sitting on a train or waiting for one bullshit.

It’ll mean $225 per day, but also it’s what Amanda’s telling me she needs and that – combined with the boost in earnings is enough reason for me.

It’ll also give me the opportunity to get to know the hotel’s spaces: unlike cleaning rooms – where we’re spending all our time upstairs and are limited to the rooms themselves, the PA cleaning’s all over the hotel.

Done deal, almost.

I’ve the odd condition or two, the only one I’m serious about being that I don’t lose any time from rooms by doing the PA shifts since I’m agreeing to pick-up the extra 90% for Amanda’s benefit and only 10% for the extra hours – there’s all kinds of shitty jobs at that time of morning after all, all of which would give ‘extra hours’ yet I wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to do any of them because I don’t want to start work at the same time third-world sweatshop kids start stitching designer clothes.

More I linger on the thought, the more I waver a bit about whether I want to commit to doing that again at all: even knowing I’d do a better job than the two people currently doing it – I don’t need to prove that to myself after all so even ego about my own level of competency isn’t a driver for doing PA.

Just you Amanda and the fact you more people doing the PA shift.

What have I got like, an hour before bed.. that’s time enough to mix-up some caramel eliquid to steep, I suppose..

Take two weeks before it’s even worth trying like every other eliquid, but okay sure..

I’ve got a bottle of Capella’s Caramel v1 that’s barely been used at all: the only time I’ve vaped caramel is in shitty tasting commercial ‘caramel tobacco’ mixes, which always taste like shit – but then I thought **maybe it’d taste better with some Cream, some Milk, some Brown Sugar and a tiny bit of coffee.. one of the coffee’s.. I’ve four different versions of coffee flavouring from the major brands and they’re all a bit different but all very strong..

Maybe, a creamy caramel with no coffee..

Oh and incidentally, speaking of vaping and eliquids..

I’ve just tested that Vanilla Custard I mixed for you Scarlett and I’m stunned to discover it actually tastes exactly like real-life, literal custard: I didn’t even follow a recipe and made the the percentages up as I went with (in order of largest to least added):

  • Warm Custard [VTA]
  • Vanilla Cream [VTA]
  • Vanilla Custard v1 [Capella]
  • Madagascar Vanilla Bourbon [TFA]
  • Cream [Flavorah]
  • Milk [Real Flavours]

I’ve not tasted any custard liquid that truly tastes like the food exactly – there’s always an accent flavour of course though I wonder whether that’s added simply to get around the fact they don’t quite taste like the food itself – so that turned-out to be a happy accident: there’s 200mL of it, though I haven’t added nicotine base at all to it yet, though I should so it’s got time to blend in with the rest.

I figured I’d update on that, since I was mixing this caramel when I remembered these lovely nuts I bought the other day: the scoop bin was labelled “Honey-roasted Macadamias” and all have this coating around the outside the nut itself that’s kinda granular and beautiful, but tastes much more like salted caramel than honey – so rather than just creamy caramel, I added 1% macadamia and 1.5% Acetyl Pyrazine to the mix and it’s, well not exactly as delicious as the real macadamias but pretty close and nice fresh-mixed, before it’s steeped at all.

In the past I’ve always gone 3-5% macadamia flavouring and it’s way too much: after a week it’s all you can taste – a sickly, heavy, buttery-nut taste that completely hijacks the mix.

With only 1% this time, the macadamia should be present and detectable, without being dominant – especially given there’s 5% Caramel and 5% Brown Sugar as the major component, plus the 1.5% AP will add a general nuttiness that’ll help the macadamia blend in more – mm organically.

Dinner anyway: I’ve got mango in syrup plus a can of whipped cream tonight because, because why not and though the mango’s tinned so doesn’t need to be eaten, the cream will be wasted if I don’t bother with dinner – can’t have that!

Uh huh: that, is dinner and I might even repeat it tomorrow, but with fresh mango and banana since um, no reason at all why I’d think to buy tinned fruit – it’s still awesome but the syrup is entirely unnecessary for mango ❤💕

Kinda strange to consider that not quite eighty years ago, WW2 and the great depression meant tinned fruit was most often the only fruit people could get.. and now, we’ve got supermarkets so full of fruit, they end up binning heaps every day purely because there’s more there than they can sell so it sits and just goes, bad..

Pisses me off still though a bit to think that mangoes are my number one favourite fruit.

Why would that piss me off?

Because I had never once in my life EVER tasted mango until a chick gave me some to try when I was 17: that’s right – my mother, never, ever bought a single mango for my entire childhood – I’m sure citing such profound reasoning as ‘We can’t afford that’ or ‘They’re too expensive’ or some other lame, single-mother-on-welfare excuse, but how many other things did I miss out on trying because a single-parent raising me decided they’d make living on welfare a ‘lifestyle choice’ instead of a temporary embarrassment a normal parent would do anything to get themselves out of.

How many other simple, basic things I might’ve loved did I completely miss out on, while growing up? How many more interests might I have now and still pursue, if I’d been exposed to them as a child?

Fuckin’ bitch..

Still got the woman’s number blocked on my phone: why be annoyed by an occasional text from someone I have absolutely no respect for doing a terrible job of pretending to be interested in what I’m doing every six months or whatever?

I’ve never have I had any kind of relationship with her in my adult life, she’s never been any use as far as getting me well set-up for a life of success and she’s never had a fucking pot to piss in – let alone been any financial help to me.

The woman has never been any kind mother in any real or practical sense: just a woman who scrapes up a few grains of artificial interest during short breaks in her drug-induced dumb and I’ve never had a sliver of interest in whatever she’s doing.

Bitch never even let me have a mango in sixteen years before I escaped and found one myself and in the decades since, I’ve not once felt the slightest sense of loss for having no relationship whatever with either parent – they’ve both been completely fucking useless to me in every aspect of life.

Thursday, 17th June 2021

6:06 PM

Amanda, Amanda, Amanda; whatever will we do with you..

You’re pretty gorgeous you know, or maybe you don’t, or maybe you choose not to know it, but it’s true.

This chick, even if I was enough of a weirdo to think anything would work with anyone twenty years younger than me there’s still that evolutionary, biological repellent: any woman who’s already with someone holds no appeal at all to anyone other than using scumbags or the really desperate – pregnant women have the same lack of appeal as partnered ones.

A woman who’s fat and waddles like a duck because she’s squeezed full with some other arseholes developing sperm, is NEVER sexy to anyone but the arsehole who impregnated her – no matter what her girlfriends or family tell her, only perverts and weirdos are attracted to pregnant women – period.

No no you’re not fat or pregnant, I’m just drawing the parallel for context: a woman who’s in a relationship holds very little appeal for any man – soon as a woman becomes single, that appeal leaps back to 100% of what it was last time she was single, but while she’s hooked-up it remains very low.

Bare with me here, I’m working my way to a point I have not formed yet in my own head..

Until then though I’ll clarify what I’m NOT trying to say at all:

  • I’m NOT trying to imply hotness for her myself, at all.
  • I’m NOT trying to state she’s unattractive, at all.
  • I’m NOT trying to go all leery and weird by over-stating how attractive she IS.

Better get to my dinner, so I can get this thought pulled together and clearly worded before bed…

I’ll start that again: right from the pointy end:

You Amanda, are beautiful: I see you around work looking only slightly less smiley than before but still less smiley and though I’m not going to waste my time even trying to squeeze smiles out of you, I will reiterate what I’ve already told you – that we all love you – and add you’re gorgeous enough to not be letting anybody bullshit you into thinking they’re better than you or that you’ve scored better than you should have – you can take your pick of an ocean of exceptional options any time you want – especially at your age.

Do not waste your youth-induced beauty on anything that smells even faintly like leading to a dead-end to you when countless others will cherish you, right now – anytime you like.

Don’t let yourself feel like you have to be doing any chasing at all: you’re hot enough to be able to pick any drop-dead gorgeous guy on the street and have him slavering like a dog to jump through hoops for you – easily.

Do not be misled by your own emotions or anyone else’s.

That’s much more succinct.

I just cut my finger – slicing onion – fuck it..

4:30 PM

Like always, it’s never the ambient temperature: it’s the wind responsible for the -4.5oC ‘real-feel’ out there and also like always, it’s your fingers that feel it most – now I’m inside with the heater on they’re starting to warm back up again but fucking-ungh!

So painful..

Did not help that I spent a good half hour loitering around out front of Woolworth’s in that same wind: with St George’s online banking app ‘not available’ for what over an hour now, I could not transfer money to my cards’ account and you just don’t stop to consider how fucking shit electronic banking is until it suddenly epic-fails for whatever reason and you’re stuck like a cocksucker at some checkout without even the ability to change the fact you can’t access your money.

Pissed me right off.

In the end, the car-park got too cold and online banking was still a fail, so I went back in to the Kiosk, told the chick to cancel that sale and gimme back the bag, “I’ll go scan just the shit I want since I know I’ve got around forty bucks in there but can’t even check the balance let alone move more into the account.” and finally got 80% of what I’d shopped for, then fucked off home.

I’m going to change banks though: fuck St George and all their ‘sorry for any inconvenience’ bullshit: they abandoned Katoomba by losing the branch here and the dickheads didn’t even leave us an ATM for cardless cash, while there’s still ANZ, Commonwealth and Bendigo banks all right here in town.

Our little Lioness banks with The Commonwealth and told me weeks ago when we were talking about it, that her pay goes in the same day payroll processes time-sheets on Tuesday plus I’ve heard of other payments going in with them the same day too: that alone isn’t a reason to go with a particular bank but it’s also the one whose advertising I’ve been most exposed to over my life-time, so next day I get off, I’ll go tell them “I am fucking OVER those other arseholes!”, open an account and change my details with the hotel.

Typing this shit out as I’m getting ready for tomorrow.


Wednesday, 16th June 2021

5:33 PM

Marina has such a soothing effect on me, she has not wavered as my favourite: like a little holiday – engaging someone who naturally calms me down – from the majority of people, who either wind me up or piss me off or have me slamming-on the ego-wall.

Now, I tell her whatever random thoughts are bouncing around my head.

Also non-random thoughts, like how it’s really not the specific job itself I like so much as the hotel environment with all it’s random people showing up and leaving, asking questions and talking at me: the activity really is similar to that of a hive – so many people moving around each day, there’s almost never a moment you can’t look over your shoulder and see someone walking up or down one of the halls – going wherever to do, whatever.

I need a new audible book – my monthly credit is waiting to be used – but have no clue what to buy: I love Stephen King, but I’ve got all his bestsellers and several shit books of his, and though I’ve looked for some of the hard-copy, printed books that’ve become favourites over the years, titles like Papillon aren’t on Audible yet plus there’s so many authors, I can’t even think which one to browse books from.

Today, we had a staff meeting: the first of any such a thing I’ve been made aware of in the two months I’ve been working there now.

Apparently, some woman who was staying in room forty-seven was so shitty about the cleaning in her room she ended up being given a free night by the owner – Sheila – who also went up to the room in question personally, though I’m unsure what she did up there and just assume she went up to clean or placate this angry bitch of a guest.

And no: neither Marina or myself were responsible for that room’s cleaning on this particular day – apparently one of the young chicks were responsible for the cleaning the day of the unhappy guest, though it also has to be stipulated: this guest sounded like a cow who would’ve complained about anything she could regardless which one of us did the cleaning on the day, so it’s not necessarily a badly cleaned room that triggered this woman’s bitching, but her being a bitch who likes to, bitch.

Still nice to know it wasn’t one of our rooms.

I remember that day – last weekend – when everyone seemed to be running behind in their rooms but me, since I’d finished a good hour plus ahead of everyone else and having already helped two others downstairs, Lynette’s asked me to go up and help our Marina.

When I got up there Babe was already pretty much finished with her room but goodness did she ever look panicky about the owner and manager being in the next room 🙂

I don’t know why Marina gets nervous around the owners: without good cleaners they are royally fucked and we’re probably the most valuable staff in the hotel – both Marina and I are great cleaners – her more than me, because she’s been there ten years and she’s obviously faster and no doubt makes flawless beds more often than my hit & miss attempts, of course – so she’s got no reason to be nervous at all.

I’ve also never found the owners to be anything but lovely when talking to me and I’m sure they’re the same to the other cleaners: they know how much work we do and they know from their own experience with shitty staff how much easier their life is with good, independently functioning workers around: we’re always there on time when we’re meant to be, we provide a-grade cleaning with consistently polished rooms, we’re genuine, honest, good with guests and fit enough to maintain the same output all day, every day with no supervision (really) required.

Sure, we might forget the odd bar of soap or hand-towel and either Amanda or Lynette are obviously good for picking up on shit like that, but we don’t need to be coddled or pushed into doing our work as efficiently as we can.

Room attendants should get $32/hour for what we have to do all day and the owners need to say how much they “appreciate” us that way and without us having to ask, but every other casual employee is on minimum wage with no differentiation between roles, so it’s not likely to happen anytime soon, however much it really should.

Anyway Marina only had to vacuum this room that day – when I went up to help – and asked me after I’d walked in how she could help me or what I needed her to do.

“Nothing: I don’t need anything Babe: it’s about what *you* need..”

‘Oh yeah?’

“Yeaaah: I did my last room half an hour ago – I’ve come up just to help you :)”

Like I said, she’d already done everything but vacuum and since the manager was out in the hall using that vacuum cleaner, I said I’d just go back downstairs and continue re-filling my cart, which I did and I’m not even sure what this has to do with the bitch in room 47 squealing like a pig about her room being dirty, but there you go – sidetracked by, sidetracked by the mental movie of last weekend.

This isn’t the cleanest, most well-timed dialog I’ve written today, but that’s fine: I’m tired and just ate two chicken burgers PLUS, I’m not ranting or bitching or yarping about anything today which should be a relaxing change – to both read and write.

Also apparently, we used to have staff meetings every week but haven’t had one for a donkeys age and so today’s meeting would’ve been in response to that piglet in 47 squealing over a dust-bunny she found on top of the wardrobe or some shit, but that makes me sad: I liked having the chance to sit down for a full 10 minutes and having a valid reason to take a break for once, plus I got to tell the owner I really, REALLY want my gold name plate and also ask her, “Can I have my own vacuum cleaner? A pac-vac of my own, so I can finish my rooms more quickly?” then continued, telling Sheila I can vacuum an entire school in one hour with one of these, how I’ll be able to vacuum twice the rooms in the same amount of time with one of them, then told Diane I could do hers AND mine in the same amount of time I could do four rooms with the floor machines.

Both Sheila and Derek found that pretty funny judging my their laughter and to my surprise, agreed to get me one for my rooms, along with a second cordless Dyson Diane wanted and a couple of new “Henry” vacuum cleaners Marina and Debbie love so much.

Believe it when I see my new pac-vac of course, but both Sheila and Derek agreed, so I’ll be holding my breath until it happens, becoming as sullen as a stormcloud if it doesn’t 😉

Bed anyway – I’m falling asleep sitting here.

Tuesday, 15th June 2021

6:34 PM

Marina calls me Babe, Dianne calls me Darling and on the way out this afternoon Lynette tells me “I’ll see you tomorrow Lovely.”

The way it should be.

Wait, I’ve just walked in the door well, twenty minutes ago and have to get heaters on and chicken fillets defrosting.

Chicken defrosting again, because – having rocked-up to that new food place at the bottom of town for my morning chicken & egg breakfast burger this morning – the fool tells me he’s lost the paper receipt roll that goes in the card-reader, so there’s no eftpos available! I stood there a moment – just waiting for him to offer me a free burger – but he didn’t even offer to credit me one until tomorrow when he’s hopefully got card payment working again, so I’m – again – compensating for this epic feeling of loss with southern-style chicken tenders on brioche buns plus fresh paper-thin sliced onion, mayo and cheese again for dinner tonight.

It’s actually very nice even without the egg, though you’ve gotta let the buns warm in the pan a few seconds after cooking the chicken though, just to soften them fully before layering everything else in there.

Awful customer service, really: he should have offered me credit until the next morning since I’ve been in there every day lately and would’ve happily paid when he had his card thingo working again – instead, now I’ll have to never order there again out of principle.

Thinking this afternoon, I was, that the only major drawback to maintaining an online diary like this is that anyone who reads it has open-book access to my brain, which allows anybody reading to get to know me pretty intimately while I’ve got no fucking idea what goes on in their head outside of what comes out their mouths which is obviously highly filtered and then has to be analyzed and deciphered by me over time.

You all get to know everything about how I think while I have no idea about your thought process.

Major disadvantage from my end, that.

9:55 AM

No more adoration for you Amanda.

How many times now have I come in to start the day with a trolley that’s not been refilled? You know how much that slows anyone down: having to keep going back and forth to the cupboards and other trolleys looking for shit because nobody’s bothered stacking the fucker for the next day?

Oh right: most people don’t know, because all the other trolleys get re-filled at the end of the day so they start each morning with everything they need right outside the rooms they’re cleaning.

Know what, who cares: I did refuse to start at six in the morning for PA like some third-world sweatshop fool and I also refused to do laundry because if special-needs kids can do it, it’s too easy for me and I still don’t wanna get up at 4:30 AM while everyone else is sleeping and still don’t want to do laundry work Forest Gump could easily handle.

Nor would I want to – if it meant doing a piss-poor job of everything I was doing: I’d much rather do one thing well enough to be praised for it, than be incompetent at multiple things then embarrass both myself and my supervisor with half the staff talking about how useless I am.

Quality vs Quantity is the easiest choice ever.

I ended up taking Marina’s trainee for my last two rooms this afternoon and she is one weird chicken: I decided I don’t want one of them – one vacant room and one occupied room were all it took of her twitchy weirdness to realize that if I ever get a trainee, they’ve gotta be calm.

And moderately attractive, that be good too.

Though I understand she would’ve been checking Marina’s list of rooms all day and thinking **one more room and we go woo!**, then – right after finishing that last room – she’s told “No, you’ve gotta go and do two more rooms with this arsehole first..” and at the same time, Marina got to leave and go home 🙂

Still, it was only one vacant and an occupied and we had ’em done in within twenty minutes: not like I had four full rooms to still do

It’s also good to get her used to the fact there’s often more or less work to do: it isn’t like there’s a rock solid four hours every day, all week long, consistently – some days are only four, some are six – it all depends how long the list is and what distractions or obstacles pop-up throughout the day.

And god I love Marina’s pony tail..

I wanted her to be my trainee, but she said she wouldn’t lower herself and that’s cool, that’s fine: she’ll be begging me to train her when I’m doing rooms in half the time it takes her to do them – which won’t be much longer now.

Sunday, 13th June 2021

1:48 PM

I sure am relaxed enough for it to feel like a Sunday.

Cleaning and tidying, washing clothes, mixing juices and fucking around getting vaporizers cleaned of pocket-link, washed and re-coiled/cottoned all ready to go, while also flicking back through the last few days on and off to backspace the fat out and add shit I’ve not got around to.

Relaxed or not, that clock just keeps fucking whirring away: check in one minute it’s nine in the morning – check it again it’s mid-day goddammit..

Wouldn’t it be fucking excellent if we could just hit the half-speed button on time itself to extend days we don’t want gone so quickly, so they last longer; quarter-speed for hours we want to prolong; double-time for shit we just want done.

We all know time is super relative of course: we’ve all experienced days that seem to go on forever as well as full weeks that’re gone before we know it and I’m positive there’s some kind of psychological conditioning we could all do to control our perception of how fast or slow time elapses but that’s still not making it actually last any longer or shorter.

Listening to a podcast takes the piss out conspiracies like flat-earth theory morons, which always reminds me of Malcolm – from the food-bank – several years ago: always spouting shit about flat-earth he was, along with all the other Illuminati reptilian rubbish and – at first – I did not know how to take this crazy old arsehole preaching garbage all day to any ears that remained in range, then thought he must be simply winding people up to see who’s actually stupid enough to buy the whole rainbow of dumb he was speaking.

Then I realized, Malcolm really did believe the earth is flat, that the Jews are keeping ‘the truth’ a secret from all of us and that Hillary Clinton has a baby-farm she uses to make anti-aging syrup along with other super rich world leaders – all of whom mash baby’s into a paste that keeps them filled to their bushy eyebrows with all kinds of lizardy goodness.

The 1960s sure must’ve been fun for old Malcolm.

These dried pineapple slices are so good.. just like beef jerky, when you first shove these dried mango and pineapple slices in your mouth they don’t strike you as the greatest tasting food, but all you gotta do is get it wet and start chewing, the flavour gets awesomely fruity so quick.

Like it so much, I’ve just mixed a bottle of Fruit Salad & Vanilla-Bean Ice-Cream eliquid, with Sweet Honey and a ‘dollop’ of Cream: usually, I just vape whichever random Custard and creamy flavours I feel like grabbing out the cupboard and mixing – not fruit of any kind though this fruit salad was mixed about two months ago so it’s very, very well steeped and contains equal parts Banana, Blueberry, Strawberry and Mango flavours with my just adding some creamy shit then in the Ice-Cream and Cream – to smooth the fruits and turn it into a desert.

Also adding more glycerine to several mixes I made weeks ago that are very high in polythene glycol: I wanted them that way at the time so I could push the nicotine salts up to 50mg/mL, but having vaped them a while I’m not so concerned with higher nicotine content, and want more flavour – that comes from the sweetness and much higher vapor-production of vegetable glycerine plus, because I mixed some these flavours kinda on the ‘too strong’ side they could use some dilution.

Saturday, 12th June 2021

7:34 PM

Dinner tonight is chicken burgers with Ingham Southern-style Chicken Tenders, Colby Cheese and mayonnaise with a few slices of paper-thin-cut white onion, on brioche buns with the best butter I’ve tasted since I was a kid: I got to town too late this morning to have my breakfast chicken burger today, so I have to rectify the immense feeling of loss and this is the only way of doing that.

That just gave my a crazy thought: maybe the reason I was a bit more agile today, is because I didn’t eat half a godamn kilo of chicken, egg, bacon and cheese in a burger right before I started work.


I should limit myself to coffee and my bag of dried happiness in the morning, but when would I get that awesomely delicious, chickeny goodness all gooey with egg yolk all dripping out the middle like sauce? Afternoon I have to to shopping for dinner anyway and get home, and, don’t really want to eat anything that heavy just two hours or so before I’ll be having dinner anyway.

You see what I gotta deal with! Welcome to my world of problems!

Lynette was supervising us today and while I had finished all ten of my rooms by a quarter past two, the other cleaners seemed to be slow with a few so slow I left at the end of the day feeling like they were just taking advantage of the fact Amanda wasn’t there to get all in their face all day, with Lynette being less frequent in her rounds she’s a lot older than Amanda and relies us doing our job without fucking around.

I push a little harder when Lynette’s there because I know she can’t dart around the hotel like that slick, foxy little cat can and because slick foxy cat is young and fit enough to be all over the place when the pressure’s on during busy days: whether it’s helping people or chasing-up cleaners to check they’re getting shit done, Amanda’s so frequently on people about how much they’ve done that new cleaners push themselves out of worry about when Amanda will be back to give ’em that potent, disapproving ‘Is that really all you’ve done?’ look; a look that’s usually followed by super polite suggestions for what you might do to hurry up; polite suggestions that make it perfectly clear without having to say it, ‘You, are a failure and you *need* to stop sucking so bad at your job like, right now.’

We love you 🙂

I realize I’ve said this a few times in the past day or two, but I have this ambiguous sense that whatever the details or situation and though she may roll her eyes or dismiss it outwardly, she does object to being reminded that her co-workers think she’s adorable.

Before you know it I’ll be writing what a cow you are – soak up the warmth while the sun is out 🙂

Though even then, you’d still be the adorable cow of a supervisor.

We love Lynette too – just as much in fact, just on a slightly different frequency perhaps: Lynette’s got DECADES of experience right there at the same hotel and knows not only every little resolution to every little problem you might be able to possibly encounter, she also has perspective and will tell you “DON’T stress about that – it’s not important” or “DO stress about this – stress all you like: it’s important”, which is profoundly useful to anyone learning and getting a feel for the machinations of a workplace and the people in it.

I can stay up late as I like tonight, so don’t need to hurry this at all, though I’ll delete the bullet-point list below as I convert the points into paragraphs.

Anyway, my third room still stands out to me for the nameless woman I’ll never see or speak to again who left that mesmerizing scent behind as she checked out and told me I could have her room now to clean: obviously, she does not wear that perfume for me, I don’t know who she is and there’s no ‘love at first sight’ shit even implied in my saying this, but I honestly felt like licking her pillow-cases when I opened the door to room thirty-five and stepped into the most beautiful scent I’ve ever experienced in my life.

So we’re very clear here, I did not lick the pillowcases: even alone there are things you can do that will result in you thinking less of yourself afterwards and that would’ve been one of those things, though I did stand there for what felt like a full minute just trying to figure out what was in her perfume that melted me like butter the moment I stepped in the room – this is just a scent we’re talking about here!

How can a perfume trigger an emotional response like that?

Especially when you know that you’ve never caught a sniff of it in your life so there’s no memory or association with some ex girlfriend that’s done it and though the woman herself was physically perfect – quite literally – we only exchanged a few casual words before she left, and I thought nothing of it until I’d walked into the room she’d just left.

I’ve got all day tomorrow though to pick at this, remove the fat and neatly finish the last two days.

My number one tip for right now though and a tip I meant to share both with Lynette and Marina today but kept getting distracted by whatever – work – is that if you drink water at all, right now is an exceptionally good time to be drinking tap water: all the snow and ice that’s melted into out water supply has made it not only fresh and super well aerated, but cold as ice right out the wall.

Seriously you can taste the difference all that melted snow has made and to water that’s already pretty good to begin with.

5:30 PM

What a strange day.

I just walked in the door and flicked the heater on, so I’m determining how to process the wildly variable contrasts between the good, bad and really annoying.

While I’m thinking about it though, I’ll start myself off:


  • Finished first today out of everyone and had the ‘hotel standard’ four rooms finished by 12:01 PM on the dot, then went on to finish the last two check-ins plus the four occupied by around 1:30 PM.
  • Sheila thanked me for staying back to help everyone, which is dunno I guess that’s good though she’s the owner so I’m always scanning below her obvious politeness for other things that she conceals pretty well.
  • My little bad of happy: I was right – everything in it is excellent and the coconut strips go with everything.
  • Stopped when I saw Ahlei closing-up the op-shop and went over specifically to ask her “Why you giving me daggers and filthy looks for two years exactly?”, since even Toni never mentioned why in all the times I’ve stopped to get random updates over that time.
  • Lynette just texting to thank me for being helpful today by assisting others for an hour and a half after I’d finished all my own work.


  • Having gone to Coles to grab some shit on the way downhill, I stepped out the way of some hot chick with a trolley to be polite then one the FIVE:AM yogurt tubs slipped out my hand, hit the floor and split – causing me to have to go tell the checkout chicks I’d got yogurt on the floor “Just so you can get someone to clean it in case some old woman slips then wants to file a lawsuit against the company,
  • After splitting the yogurt, I walk to the back the shop for another one, go back to the front checkout to pay and realize my cards are in my bucket at work..
  • After going immediately back to work (at 4:20 PM), I find the cupboards are all completely locked, so I’ve gotta wait for Derek to light a fire in the billiard room for some arseholes before I can ask him to come up and let me in to get it.
  • When I asked Ahlei why she’s been giving me daggers and stink-eye all this time, she answered me with evasive bullshit, saying she ignores everyone and gives stink eye to everyone, which I know is horseshit and told her “That’s a very avoidant answer.” but whatever – she did not answer the question at all and that annoyed me a bit, since she’s meant to be a ‘straight talker’ and I asked her straight – without any bullshit.
  • I do not like that Lynette got in shit today because our cleaners were still cleaning rooms at 3:00PM: a full half hour after check-in, these fuckers were STILL cleaning check-ins, until guests downstairs actually started complaining about having to wait so long for their rooms and it’s neither Lynette or Amanda’s fault if a minority few cleaners are uselessly slow and yeah.. I go a bit harder when Lynette’s supervising, because I know she can’t do rooms herself anymore while it seemed a few other cleaners were having themselves a lazy day just because Amanda was off today.

You see how good/annoying/good/annoying today ended-up being?

Makes it hard to write a nice, cohesive dialog that flows when all the above events have that duality about them.

My goodness: I’ve got this little square, body electric heater right in front of me under the table – so nice just warm-breezing me, like it is: dinner tonight is Brioche burger buns with fried southern-style chicken tenders, Colby cheese and mayonnaise – since I didn’t have time for my chicken burger this morning 🙁

Waiting for the chicken tenders to defrost in front of the above mentioned heater though, so I don’t have to cook them frozen and have the outside burnt while the inside’s only warm.

Friday, 11th June 2021

4:54 PM

Poor Kitten 🙁

Running a little behind top speed today and it still mystifies me how some days are BANG BANG BANG rooms done, while other days I’m just snail-slow all the way – most days fall somewhere in the middle of the two extremes but it’s really impossible to tell until you’ve done a few rooms how quickly you’ll go or how well you’ll perform, with every other cleaner reporting the same phenomenon occurring to them too – so it isn’t just me.


THAT is why it bugs me, because I ALSO want to stop in the hallway randomly and talk to Amanda or Samantha or Marina or Tilly and I do, because if all I ever do is push myself continually to not waste a single moment, how NOT fun would the job be then right?

What’s the point of being the fastest, if you’re doing it in a vacuum and never get to interact with anyone for FEAR you might be wasting moments of cleaning time? Especially with a personality like mine that demands I engage people and sus ’em out like a temperature probe in meat.

At around 1:00 PM I was simultaneously doing my forth and fifth check-ins with one more to go, when Amanda appears in the doorway telling me she wants to swap room 41 for, well I can’t remember which one exactly, but some other room.

I realize instantly that’s a bad deal no matter which room she wants to swap it with, “I’ve already done 41..”

‘Oh! You’ve finished it?’

“Yeah: that was my first room.”

She told me not to worry about it then, and as she’s walking away I told her to smile or something, “You don’t look very happy..”

‘Because I’m not very happy.’


Told me she was tired, that it’s ‘Not a day to be happy.’

“Alright then”, I’ve said as she’s walked into some room across the hall, though if she’d not gone I would’ve appended the affirmation, “You can be not smiley if you want.” but of course the doors spring-mechanism had closed it before my brain assembled the words in a sequence my voice-box could use.

I didn’t ask why she was tired, or not happy, because just like everyone else who’s been working there long enough to know, I can take a guess and be in the general neighbourhood of correct: I don’t know the details of course, but it’s almost certainly the ongoing boyfriend thing and while I could give her advise based on common sense and the experience of a gazillion other humans who came before we were ever born, there’s no point in doing that now is there.

It’s always simple as shit to give solid advise when you’re not the one who’s blinded by emotions because you’re not involved and no advise from anybody ever means anything to anyone where relationships are concerned anyhow, because even if you’ve been in the exact same situation yourself a dozen times it’s not you in that particular situation, that particular time because you’re not one of the two people involved.

If you take away the emotion, then strip it back to it’s core it’s always simply two people hormonally attracted to each other trying to breed like any other animal, though unlike any other species humans attach far more significance to that attraction and once emotion is involved you begin to believe all kinds of virtuous stuff about how unique and irreplaceable a relationship is – even when it’s not.

Even when the clashes and disagreements and incompatibilities are screaming-in-our-face obvious and constantly present, our lizard brains tell us to not let go because there’s safety in numbers and being alone is scary, so that ape-like animal aspect of our intelligence tells us it’s the saddest fucking thing ever.

It’s not: it’s not that sad – it happens every second of every day – people wait-out the ape-brain’s messages of sadness a while, then someone else catches their eye and pretty soon we wonder why the fuck we ever acted that ridiculously at all about that one person, when every single person on earth has their own talents, charms, qualities and attributes that attract a mate just like that one person we cried a river over had.

It’s how the human species has got to completely dominate and overpopulate the planet: by making almost every human specimen attractive to the opposite sex – whether it’s personality, physical or intelligence, everyone has some balance or combination of the three that’ll be attractive to a large percentage of other people.

The biological mechanism of reproduction makes the vast majority of us attractive enough to hook-up to ensure the survival of the species, and emotions/hormones make us *feel* as though a partner is irreplaceable, but the terrible truth is that everybody is exactly as irreplaceable as everybody else – give or take: there’s always not only a pool of replacements, but an ocean of upgrades who are superior to the one we’re with, or the one we’re going gaga about.

Most people don’t want to just endlessly search for a better partner than the one they have, so they settle with who they’ve got, but whatever – point is, relationships start and end continually between people and it’s never as sad as we think it was at the time.

There’s your typical virgoan analysis – applied to relationships as a whole and from a step-back, panoramic perspective.

Not that, mm: I truly believe any two people can stay together if both are totally determined to, but the incompatibilities always being there, then the little resentments that turn into huge ones are usually just too much to put up with and make the whole relationship so much more effort than it’s even worth before anyone’s determination is truly put to the test.

That’s a very clinical way of look at it, but as I said it’s super easy to see with crystal-clear, 20-20 vision when I’m not the one who’s in it.

Still, I feel like writing a counter to my own doom and gloom, and I could if I hadn’t spent most of the night stripping human relationships down to their basest, most opportunistic animal nature – now I’m out of time.

I’ve also distracted myself with that one thought into veering wildly off-topic, again.

SNAP: Hotel. Today. Cleaning..

A short time later I’m about to vacuum a different room and while I was in the doorway this time – her inside checking my awesome work – I told our little lioness, “You *know* we all love you. That should make you a *bit* happy :)” and she’s dismissed that of course and retorted ‘You just get 43 done by 2:00 PM and I’ll be happy :)’, which I did of course but only with ten minutes to spare.

We do too: love her 🙂

I might be the only one writing about our lioness, but everyone in housekeeping adores Amanda.

In an effort to happy her up just a tiny sliver more tomorrow, I’ve ditched the random snack-bag ingredients and bought more this afternoon comprising only the best shit, so from the Coles scoop thingo I only bought dried mango, jersey caramels and apricot & coconut balls, then went and got these from the Wholefoods store outside:

  • Organic dried Cranberries
  • White Chocolate coated dried Raspberries
  • Organic coconut strips
  • Honey-roasted Macadamias
  • Some kind of crackers

I’m sure there’s one or two things I’ve forgotten in that list, since I spent a good half hour just walking around sampling things before grabbing a bag and scooping some in.. oh! also from Coles I got Turkish dried apricots which turned out to be nicer than the ones at the Wholefoods store anyway.

The honey-roasted macadamias are great too: more like salted-caramel macadamias, they’re not sweet as honey and I also got smaller snack sized snap-locks so I can give you a bag that’s not a full kilogram of shit, to graze on, but ALL a-grade food without any cheap shit (except the Jersey Caramels which are only $15/kilo and obviously lollies, but they’re the only junk shit I got) and there’s nothing coated in chocolate other than the freeze-dried raspberries, but that’s white choc and I only got a few of those because I wasn’t too sure about the freeze-dried berries – they’re kinda crunchy and I’m not sure they’re awesome, so barely any of those.

You should love everything in the bag: I did not buy a single dud.

Cleopatra herself would be happied-up plenty with a bag of awesome of this quality.

Oh, it’s Saturday tomorrow!

I get to set my alarm for 7:00 AM instead’f six, and get an extra hour tonight to fuck around before bed – good good.

Means Amanda’s not on tomorrow though, so no little bag of happy for you tomorrow, lioness.

I still have to finish yesterday’s random engagement with Ahlei but again, don’t have time now: file nails, find vanilla-bean ice-cream eliquid, make-up my own bag of fun for tomorrow and recoil vaporizer I’ve still gotta do before bed.

Meow Foxy Supervisor.

Night Ahlei, if you’ve resumed reading.

Night Scarlett.

Night faceless creepy internet Lurkers.

Thursday, 10th June 2021

5:26 PM

Snow was forecast today and for once, the forecast didn’t disappoint with the usual shitty few millimeters that’s gone before you even get outside: all day today it drifted down covering the town and I’m pretty sure it’s still snowing now, though it’s gone dark and since I’ve been outside in it most of today, I’ll be fucked of I’m going outside simply to check the whether.

I’m not even wasting time writing-out a multi-paragraph retelling of this old couple pissed me off knocking on the disabled toilet door while I was in there: I ended-up taking my sweet time and spent a full five minutes just leaning against the wall – arms folded – purely to make them wait when the only reason I went in there was to swap out my contacts with the new transitions ones that arrived this morning and if they’d not been so annoying, I would’ve been outta there in two minutes.

New contacts that I’ve gotta say are awesome: I can stare directly up at the sky without feeling the slightest need to squint – my eyes are now daylight-proof as well as blue-light and UV protected and they don’t tint dark enough to look like demon eyes like I thought they might, not that I’d have cared – having contacts that turn into sunglasses in my fucking eyeballs, who gives fucks about cosmetics of your iris colour with lenses that excellent.

What I will waste time writing about, is the strangeness of someone I used to know suddenly talking to me this afternoon after giving me daggers or ignoring me every time I’ve seen her in town for over two years straight.

I’d finished shopping, been to Leura then returned and was walking down from Coles through that little arcade where the pretentious Little Paris Cafe is located, when I look over and see Ahlei standing outside the op-shop opposite the cafe, having a smoke.

Having a smoke and looking at me..

Looking at me and talking.


I walk past a pillar of concrete blocking my view, then look back at her again and see she really is talking to me and though I can’t hear a fuckin’ thing she’s saying since both headphones are in, she then starts gesturing me over with her hand,so I go over to her, surprised to see after two years of not even making eye contact on the street when she walks past, she suddenly wants to tell me something.

Alright sure, can’t imagine what she’d wanna say after all this time but she clearly wants to so fine – I take an earphone out and walk over to hear what she has to say.

Now, ever since the food-bank at the Uniting Church shut down a few years ago, Ahlei has snubbed me in public anytime we’ve seen each other and it’s a convoluted story I’ve already told, but since I don’t even know which post it was in I’ll recap as quickly as possible for context.

Few years ago I found myself volunteering for the food bank halfway up the main street that was run from the back of the Uniting Church and very quickly, everybody there adored me: the staff, the ‘clients’, the volunteers – all just seemed happy for me to simply be there even when I wasn’t doing anything but talking to people and listening to their shit every day and I was given open access to everything from first pick of new food arriving to Rosa letting me use the church itself to play the piano like it was my own private music room.

Hard to explain it further while staying compact in my ‘summary’, but it’s like Rosa adopted me – Ahlei was like a sister and the rest of the staff treated me like some kind of golden child and I still don’t know why, but I always got the impression they just really liked me which isn’t that hard to understand, I spose: as well as the stupid high IQ, I’m like a cockatoo – always sidling-up to people to engage them, always wanting to know what they’re doing, where they are, curious about everything in my environment, how it works, what everyone thinks and how everything works as a whole.

Now, being a charity the food-bank would attract a lot of single mothers and their kids, plus it’s share of homeless youth or teenagers with shitty home issues on the one hand, but also a certain percentage of people who were just fucking nasty: predatory arseholes, perverts, criminals, rapists – Rosa had a soft spot for people being released from prison and I never had a clue why she was so mushy for them but she was, and so she would do everything to bend-over and give them what she considered a ‘second chance’ – volunteering at the food-bank after they’d been released from prison.

You can already see how this stacks of you look at the two primary groups of people and the issues with allowing one to be in a place where there’s so much of the other, but I didn’t give a fuck: I was smoking weed all day, nobody expected me to do anything but amuse people and add to the dynamic and though I thought the female staff there were cool, I wasn’t concerned about any of them nor did I give a shit about the predatory group being allowed to be around the vulnerable group.

Somewhere along the way, I started caring about the women I saw every day: Ahlei, Toni, Rosa and the single mothers whose names I never even bothered asking but I would see the same faces coming in there every other day – humbly asking for some free vegetables or whatever – and all of a sudden, I started seeing how dangerous the arrangement was: sure nobody is going to do shit while they’re actually on church property at the food bank, but once these single mothers leave – well it’s a very small town and I started visualizing how easily anyone there can be stalked or tracked once they’ve left the food bank and headed home.

Then, with increasing dread I started seeing individuals in the predatory criminal group start working to befriend these single mothers and their kids, and all the while I’m seeing this I’m hearing so many stories about the people within that predatory group, so I’ve watched and tracked some these interactions as that dread turned into mild panic.

Before long, I start telling Rosa “You have to enforce police criminal record checks here Rosa: at the very minimum you HAVE to make sure volunteers have working with children clearances: I’ve got both, but I could not even clean a fucking toilet a block from a school if I didn’t have both and here.. fuck LOOK at it”

Rosa agreed with me and sympathized with my concerns for the large number of vulnerable women and children who used the food bank regularly, though mostly to placate me at that point and told me she really wants to keep volunteering as ‘open as possible’, so they don’t discriminate and lose people who have the potential to be great volunteers, that enforcing criminal checks would limit the pool of people who could sign-up.

This isn’t what I wanted to hear at all, and did not placate me in the slightest.

I kept on at Rosa about it, and on and on and she would tell me they will implement criminal checks eventually but blablabla and “Nothing’s happened so far” kinda thing, while I’m growing more and more worried not only that something will happen, but that things have already happened the church/food bank has managed to keep from the grapevine, so we don’t know half the nasty, seedy shit that’s gone on already.

I stopped talking to Rosa about it and began focusing on getting other people to know about it.


Gotta go to bed – I’ll finish this tomorrow.


Wednesday, 9th June 2021

2:50 PM

GOOD GIRL! 😝 😍 🙃

Now I can stop arcing-up and settle back into treating you like the adorable housekeeping kitten we all love, ‘stead of a nagging hag or a thorn in my side 🙂

I wanted to tell you you’re awesome on the way out but figured it might look like I’m kissing arse to anyone witnessing it and we cannot be having that.

That’s right Lurkers: all day today our little Lioness left me alone to do my work the way I want to, which meant no distraction caused by frustration or anger, which in turn meant no need to have the shits all day and though I thought about starting three paragraphs up with “I WON!”, it really wasn’t about winning for me, but personal work style – trying to force anyone to do their work in a way that sucks for them, means they spend a lot more time thinking how much it sucks than they do stacking and sorting their mental ‘to-do’ list of tasks to efficiently focus on their job.

Sometimes it’s about winning for me, but not this time.

Our Amanda has plenty of ego and I’m sure the stand-off over how I clean bathrooms was – for her at least – about simply not giving-in and letting this annoying arsehole have his way: for that annoying arsehole, me, it was about efficiency, focus, speed and the fact that using towels already in a dirty bathroom to clean that bathroom is the best way to get the room clean and dry quickly – everyone should be doing this: it saves time and makes bathrooms quicker and easier which makes our overall day that little more efficient.

And that last point above of a major part of what this was about: anytime anyone finds anything that improves the speed, accuracy, efficiency or ease of a job like ours in any way, it should be incorporated into our work not dismissed or avoided, because every little improvement means ALL cleaners have a chance to increase their efficiency, which means getting MORE cleaning for LESS and without that, if everyone’s just doing the same thing all the time without ever adopting better ways as they are discovered, cleaning never improves – we wouldn’t have vacuum cleaners today had someone not looked for a better way of removing crap off the floor than using a broom to sweep it away.

We aren’t inventing machinery to improve cleaning obviously, but every minor improvement to the way we do our work every day adds-up and if one method is clearly better than another, we should always, always be adopting the best way of doing a thing – when someone finds an even better way, we should change to that instead.

A whole bunch of little changes can make a huge difference over time and cleaners that can get things done faster using less energy have more time and energy to improve other things they’re doing.

All of us should be using towels to dry and clean all our bathrooms Babe: it’s the best method.

Obviously, we should not be mopping up vomit or shit or piss with or anything else that’ll ruin the toweling, but so far I’ve never seen any bathroom that’s dirty enough to ruin a white towel – just water, soap and hair is all we’re cleaning-up for the most part.

Anyway yes: zero tension all day today so everyone was back to being happy little vegemites.

Fuck: ten minutes out in that wind and you can no longer feel your fingers – with a ‘real feel’ of minus four degrees celcius out there currently, now I’m inside it’s coming back and my hands are turning pink again.

I caught another nail this afternoon while making my last bed: it’s like you’ll just be shoving your hand in between the mattress and base when the little fuckers get caught on a crease and OWW FUCKER! – godamn it hurts.

I’ve told Amanda about it, showing her a bruise underneath another nail that caught in exactly the same way a few days ago and she’s responded with a muted “WOW”, which was well enough delivered to be amusing while also saying in it’s tonality that a caught nail isn’t interesting, which is true, but the nail was still hurting when I was showing it to her – I’ll have to file more off so they stop doing that.

Then I went and helped Debbie with her last two rooms.

Halfway through this Samantha was up talking to me outside the elevator when an old dood comes out his room all in a fluster with some bunched-up towels in his hands: the towels were spotted and blobbed and stained in red wine as he’s standing there telling Sam and I, ‘Sorry, but we’ve just had a little accident ah, we’ve well, we’ve spilled some wine and it’s got into the carpet

He holds up the stained towels and continues to tell us how he’s used them to clean the floor then profusely apologizes – saying he hopes we’ll be able to get them out since the stain’s still fresh and that’s why he’s rushed out to give them to us.

We both tell him it’s fine, don’t worry about it, before I immediately turn to Sam, “Make sure you tell Laundry this wasn’t me this time! :)”

She smiles, rolls her eyes and tells me “I will I will”, then tells me “Go take care of these people.”

I went back to their room and told them several more times that it was fine and when I’ve checked where they said they’d spilled it, I couldn’t see so much as a discolouration on the carpet so I offered them more towels to replace the wine-soaked ones – they said they didn’t need any, evidently, because I’d already done their room and left an extra set of bathroom stuff on their bed for em.

I bought all sorts of dried fruit this afternoon: paw-paw, papaya, pineapple, several mangos, plums, apple – but for all that snack-fruit for work, I fucking, completely forgot the potatoes: no potatoes with sour cream and parmesan AND romano.. that sucks..

I even got the two cheeses and sour cream, but without potatoes – what’s the point.

I’ll just have rice bubbles since I cannot have what I want 🙁

Heaps of different dried fruit, but also a box of snap-lock sandwich bags, so I can tip some of everything in there instead of having only one kinda fruit: I’m kinda happy about this – get around the whole issue of fruit getting mushy in my pocket and the weight/space required to carry fresh fruits around, while also giving me fruit that doesn’t have to be eaten as soon as it’s peeled or cut, or whatever.

Why all the fruit? I dunno: I know I don’t eat anywhere near enough and buying fresh fruit in any large amounts is the reason I don’t eat enough, because most of it ends-up in the bin when I fail to eat it in time which means if I buy it at all it’s always just a couple bananas, or a punnet of blueberries.

But it’s mostly just a compulsion: I’ll switch to cheese crackers or something when I get sick of this.

Where, are my contact lenses..

I talked to Lizanne for the first time this morning: one of the new cleaners, she always looks kinda depressed to me and when I’ve tossed her my standard automatic “Morning!”, her response (mor-ninnng) sounded melancholic and sad, which I didn’t give much thought to since I’d almost finished my first two rooms and had just cracked open another three to start on, so I was too focused on getting on top of that first two hours to be giving fucks about her.

I should’ve remembered to tell her it’ll get much easier after a few weeks, though I know I should be rude and arseholey to the new cleaners because I wanna get rid of as many as possible, but iunno I’m just not that caniving I guess and I told the younger blonde chick the other day that was the case: I’d already finished for the day and was about to go when I saw the bucket and board outside a room then went over to see who it was, it was Rebecca – who’s only been there a week or so and looked pretty flustered as she switched between making the bed and checking the fridge and coffee tray (again), when I asked how many rooms she had left – but I wrote about this anyway I think.

In the end, I told her that after a few weeks she’d just start doing things on auto-pilot, accurately; there’ll be no need to check everything a million times and as you’re getting automatic you’ll also just get better at doing things by repetition.

Yeah I should be nasty to them, can’t though: they make me fell like a pro – seeing the new cleaners fumble around and take forever to do everything, so they’re good to have around for my own ego if nothing else.

Anyway, Lizanne.

She is a bit depressed – not that I’m gushy for her or anything – it’s just a simple observation that’s pretty easily spotted, though at first I thought the way she said good morning was just sad, I soon realized she talks slowly and in a lower tone of voice generally – that’s just how she speaks, though there’s still that undercurrent of depression in there.

The laundry came up talking to her, though not initiated by me complaining about them complaining or anything: she said she wouldn’t mind giving it a go and I’ve replied the laundry is just so fuckin’ slow I would go mental – being stuck in that one room on the spot all day, only leaving to trolley-up some towels or sheets before going back down and folding another hundred things while standing in that flourescent-lit room..

I’ve also opined, that another thing about working in the laundry is once you’ve been there regularly a while, you would not want to go back to doing rooms and that I’d rather get fitter and harden-into cleaning rooms better and faster, than grow soft and flabby standing around on the spot doing laundry all day: same with any easier cleaning job at the hotel – once you’ve got used to the easier shit, you’d loose both the fitness and the desire to go back up and clean rooms all day.

I also told Lizanne that as room attendants, we are way, way more valuable cleaners than either the PA or laundry staff: any fat-boy can stand around folding washing as it comes out the driers and because the laundry is so much easier than room cleaning, there’s a lot of people lining up begging to do just that whereas cleaning rooms well requires speed, agility and fitness and the longer you’re doing the easier shit, the more useless you are up here.

She agreed with my overarching point: that growing soft doing laundry would make rooms hard all over again and you’d not want to after you’ve seen how much easier it is downstairs.

I also appended a few minutes later, that I know laundry have a lot more sheets and towels and table-clothes to do than I think they have – so more work than I think they do – but that doesn’t make it any harder, just more repetitious and boring: I don’t even need to do it to know there’s no comparison between PA/laundry and room cleaning – the sheer intensity of work we do up here is like comparing night and day next to the other jobs.

Not on those little 4-rooms-each quiet days, obviously, but those days don’t happen very often: usually we’re non-stop all day without time to even stop and scratch ourselves.

Goodnight Lurkers.

Sleep well, Lioness.

Tuesday, 8th June 2021

1:20 PM

You’ve gotta just shuddup about the towels and leave me to clean the way I’ve been cleaning from the start.

Several times today I wound-up downstairs in Laundry – dropping-off sheets that were stained or picking-up some towels for upstairs or pillowcases – and they don’t give a fuck what I use to clean my bathrooms: only you, which had me asking the question, “Why’s she ONLY hagging at me about it when the other room cleaners use towels to clean their bathrooms exactly the same way I do and it’s how two if these cleaners trained me?”

You, are the only one in love with rags I’m starting to see: obsessed to the point of mental illness; like if I walked in your place I’d find everything’s been stitched together from a million of these shitty little frayed bits of toweling – curtains, lounge, floor mats, pillowcases, blankets and every different kind of torn-up towel in all these little frames on all the walls – all made of rags.

Coats for your cat made of rags.

Two people concluded the unstable romance you’re having – that has nothing to do with me – is why you’re so fixated on hassling me over this bathroom bullshit: ever since you got bitchy with each other again you’ve been obsessed with annoying me about how I clean every day – going so far as to enter two of my bathrooms ahead of me the other day to remove every towel, hand-towel and bath-mat before I got there to clean them.

So childish, the reaction to that was shocked expressions and disgusted responses like “Ugh” and “That’s ridiculous” of course, because it is: grown adults don’t act like that.

Meanwhile, I’m there to clean and improve my speed and efficiency (which I’ve done at a staggering rate considering your average new cleaner spends weeks just loafing in the hallways scratching their arseholes trying to remember what to do next) and like every other cleaner there I give no shits about other peoples personal lives unless other peoples personal lives start affecting my ability to get on with my work, while I’m at work – which yours has, which has to stop.

These dried mango slices are so good.. pity the paw paw is clear and, not chewy enough.

We’ve got two options now: either you shuddup about how I clean and I shuddup about you not shutting up about it, or you keep on at me and hope your new cleaners get up to speed fast, because if you threaten to reduce my hours or days because of how I clean anything again, I won’t be coming in any days to clean anything again.

That might only be 8 complete room cleans on a busy day, but even if you gave just two additional rooms to each cleaner on a given day – on top of however many they already have to do – you will end up doing as much work as the rest of them: even with Isaac’s help.

Alternatively, you can just back off and let me clean the way I want to, everyone stays happy and you can dedicate your time to not stalking me all day.

Monday, 7th June 2021

10:12 PM

Maybe didn’t soften it up all that much, but .. some.

Goodnight internet Lurkers.

Night, Foxy but easily misguided Supervisor.

7:42 PM

I can go back and soften today’s post up some now I’ve eaten and ready to just go to bed and tired enough to sleep, I’m not so give-a-shit about it.

Soften some of it up, anyway.

I bought this shit called Creme Fraiche for my potatoes tonight instead of Sour Cream and the shit, is awesome: creamier and much less acidic and smoother than Sour Cream, it’s almost like.. yeah it’s like yogurt that’s made entirely from thickened cream opposed to milk.

And here’s me – all my life – hearing of a thing called ‘cream fresh’, that I assumed was some artificially made American junk-food slash desert topping or similar shit – but it was likely this I was always hearing but never seeing it printed I just assumed the pronunciation was the same as the spelling and in English.

Sure wish they sold yogurt made from pure cream instead of shitty 5% fat milk or whatever it is.

2:16 PM

One comment away from resigning today: just one more hag from her about towels and I was quite ready to happily snap back at her “I am done here! Get someone in laundry to come up and clean a board full of rooms – I’m over hearing then crying about shit.”

Over towels, you fucking bet.

Still of that same mind too, largely owing to the powerfully mood-lowering effects of only getting two hours sleep, but also because of Amanda’s taking the side of the laziest workers she’s got; the minimum wage without any weekend or holiday penalty rates; the influx of new cleaners all doing four days a week and the glass ceiling imposed on everyone – male and female – that means only ever earning enough to remain treading water – there’s no way to earn more money consistently.

Not towels so much, as being told how to do my job: right as I’ve started hitting my stride and as I’m shaving additional minutes off my rooms every week I’m there: a little faster, a little faster, a little faster – always with virgo-perfect rooms, every time.

Some people are not up for the physical demands of it, some get injured or already have injuries, others just suck at cleaning; still others can do it, but only do an average job and still others again are any combination of the last three plus always decide they’ve got to leave or take time off because of kids, pets, whatever so they’re useless all school holidays, or every weekend, or at any other random time they decide they’d rather coddle their children for the day.

Of the ten new try-outs that start, three might stay on: only one of those three will even want to do the work upstairs once they’ve spent a few weeks doing rooms on their own, while the other two will be too lazy to be slotted anywhere but the Laundry – the reject bin for snowflakes who find it ‘below them’ to ever sweat.

I’m not talking about Tony or Lynette here of course: both these two are too old to be cleaning rooms now and though I dunno about Tony, Lynette’s done her decades of real cleaning upstairs so nobody could fault her for being in Laundry most days – fact she’s still working at her age is something in itself.

Not talking about Samantha either, even though she, well yeah – I was mean when I had the shits one day, and she was nice to me afterwards regardless which flipped me to liking her now and I bought her a bag of Natural Confectionary Company Snakes this morning – then shoved them into her as she was walking out the front office after signing-in.

Not shoved them IN her: that sounds very wrong.. pushed them, hmm gave them to her forcefully.

Forced the snakes on her?

Gave her snakes, insistently.

I also bought two little square stamps with “Well done!” and “Good Work!” on each and gave those to Amanda: told her since she seems to find it impossible to tell her best cleaners they’re awesome or ever say anything complimentary to anyone but the lazy arseholes whenever they finally do something right, “Now you can say it without all the awkward.”

$1.95 stamps and I was sure to tell her as I walked away, “You’re worth it!”

Yeah I’m still on about the motherfucking towels: it’s getting to be a bee in my bonnet – the disparity between the hard workers and the snoozy laundry workers, who cry themselves a river if they find anything dirty in the washing chute (unbelievable right!), while upstairs, we have to put-up with having no towels, no sheets, no face washers no hand-towels no pillowcases – I’m talking for hours on end – which happens so often we’ve stopped even asking what the fuck laundry is doing down there or how we’re meant to make-up rooms with NO sheets or towels.

You don’t hear us endlessly bitching to a supervisor about nothing coming up from the laundry since we started work three hours ago do you? We spend half the day going back and forth all over the building just trying to piece-together a full set of three king sheets from every cupboard around the hotel to make EVERY BED, but we get on with it and get the fuckin’ beds made – we don’t complain and bin the beds, right?

And then there’s the ridiculous number of sheets that come up with stains, oily greasy blobs and other marks ALL OVER THEM: like nobody downstairs even looks at what they’re doing so we’ve gotta remake the same bed three farkin’ times because the first two sheets are too dirty to use – but that’s cool right?

You see why this shit pisses me off?

It really didn’t until laundry had the audacity to complain about me and I was forbidden from using already-dirty towels to mop bathrooms dry: the only logical cloth to use for this are the towels and other shit that’s already on the floor when you enter a dirty bathroom and anyone with half a brain knows this, but what grates on me most: Amanda taking their side over ours – her hardest working cleaners.

If I’d just been left alone to clean my shit the way I’ve been doing it (and the way everyone else still does I’ll add), I would’ve forgotten about this the day it happened: instead, I’ve got to restart on bathrooms with a dozen 4″ ripped-up towels per room, when nobody at all should have to clean a whole room like that – I saw you down on your hands and knees doing my last bathroom today with one those tiny little rags Amanda, and though I doubt the bathroom was wet and only needed spot cleaning your knees are going to be absolutely fucked in a few years time after kneeling on hard tile like that: it’s a shit way of cleaning any floor and NONE of us should have to be cleaning bathroom after bathroom that way at all.

Not even you Babe: you’re ruining your joints and demanding we do the same – just to save someone else doing a bit of extra washing and how stupid is that? You think the hotel will buy everyone new knees in when none of us can work anymore because our bodies have worn out cleaning a thousand tile floors for them?

No, no they won’t and they sure as shit don’t pay any of us enough to buy all the physiotherapy and surgery we’ll need to stand upright without a walking frame: they’ll be sun-baking on their yachts, retired, by the time we’re having steel pins drilled into our knees and ankles.

Why am I even trying to explain it: you know the right way to do everything.

You should’ve just told laundry to shuddup and stop whinging soak the marks out in bleach: that is their job right? Getting dirty garments clean is the bare minimum functionality of any laundry after all – not complain about marks then throw shit in the bin if the auto-wash doesn’t do it first go.

Whatever: you go ahead and ruin all our knees to save a few towels.

Anyway there we have it: it’s off my chest, for now, though god knows I cannot stay out my own way and will arc up about it again because I know I’m right.

Decent night’s sleep and a day off from Amanda – that’ll calm me down.

I bought dried fruit for snack-food tomorrow: they’re pretty good actually and I realized before I even picked them they’ll go in my pocket without being squashed or leaking shit all over me.. plus they’re high in sugars.

Like beef jerky but sweet, and fruity.

9:20 AM

Can you believe I can now buy a fully loaded chicken breakfast burger, in town, at seven in the morning?

That’s two generations of one animal plus a slice of a second animal – in one bun.

Fucking, awesome.

Sunday, 6th June 2021

7:05 PM

I’ve had way too much caffeine today.

Also, I’m antsy and impatient for my new contact lenses to arrive but don’t know when they’ll get here: usually, with the standard Acuvue lenses they’re literally overnight and I still have no fuckin’ idea how they can get them here that fast but I’ll place an order at 10:00AM and they’re ready for collection before the post office even opens the following day.

I mean I know they’d have every strength and prescription all stocked in their warehouse and only have to pick and package them, but it still mystifies me that they can get my order to a courier who has it waiting for me by 7:00AM next day.

These lenses – as I’ve told Marina this afternoon – are an upgrade: no, not faggy coloured shit, but twice the price of my usual contacts and they need to be specially made at Johnson & Johnson before they’re sent to clearly.com.au before being sent to me.

For twice the price, I’ve ordered the same Acuvue Oasys lenses but with Transitions built into them: just like the glasses tint darker in bright light, these will tint darker or lighter using the exact same patented technology Transitions Optical invented for eye-glasses..

These lenses.

Photochromic contact lenses and a six-month supply which is really a year the way I wear contact lenses.

And why not: I’ve already upgraded clothes, boots and scent – why not upgrade contacts as well while I’m on a roll: all customer reviews state they’re eyes are the most comfortable they’ve ever been in their life and removing the Transitions contacts or replacing them with their normal lenses results in them being super squinty and irritates the shit out their eyes after they’ve had the photochromic lenses in a while.

This will mean not only will I have 100% UV protected eyeballs, but blue-light filtering and neither direct sunlight or those annoyingly bright rooms and bathrooms at work will piss me off in the slightest, though they do look kinda weird in full, direct sunlight – like demon-black eyes – but I’m not standing in direct sunlight on sunny days often and they don’t tint that heavily in overcast daylight.

Another ten years or so, I’ll be able to order lenses with a google overlay and fucked if I won’t be paying whatever they want for those suckers.

Oh, and that Samantha, she’s alright: she’s winning me over with her consistently being upbeat and yeah, bubbly.

I almost feel like writing a list of people I like, and people I don’t care for since I can’t say I feel strongly enough about anybody there to actually hate them, though it’s not like there’s any list of people I don’t care for: Sam is probably the only one there I don’t much care for, because quite aside from the sneaky shit he’s pulled to have Amanda give him the lazy shit while we all work our guts out, he’s one of those people who never sounds sincere when he’s talking to anyone: saccharine sweet with every greeting, he barely manages to conceal the affectation of being the smartest person in the room and we all know that’s bullshit because with a 137 IQ that places me within the top 1% of “gifted individuals”, I am the smartest person in over 99% of rooms I’m in and I’m sure as shit smarter than him.

Being sly and sneaky doesn’t serve as an indicator of a superior mind of course: even sewer rats are capable of that.

I like everyone else I work with though and while I may like some more than others and even intensely like one or two, I don’t really dislike anyone.

Potatoes anyway.

4:37 PM

Nothing happened over the boots: Amanda had a little nag at me about marking things and putting them in lost property, but that was the first and last word I had to listen to from anyone, and I don’t mind her verbally reprimanding me for bad behaviour.

Like I have to fling a guests laptop out a top floor window and watch it shatter on the driveway below to get fired..

No, of course I don’t want to be fired but I was half-expecting it this morning before arriving and finding that nobody gave any fucks at all.

Especially surprising when Marina’s told me about a backpacker who worked at the hotel not long ago: he’d found a few beers in the fridge of a guest he’d thought were a check-out and took them home – they fired him for that.

I did stipulate to Marina though (and our Spunkrat protagonist), that there’s a significant divide between a backpacker who basically stole a guests alcohol, and my binning shoes covered in mud: I further asserted (perfectly truthfully too) that I have never been interested in stealing shit from people, because I hate other people’s second-hand shit and don’t see the point having something of I don’t get it new in the box but also, I don’t (clearly) care at all about other peoples possessions enough to want to be thieving their shit so, yeah – huge difference between throwing something I considered garbage in the well, garbage, and my actually taking something because I wanted it.

Strangely, Marina suddently started asking me whether I felt this or that about whatever and she seemed to be panicking like she was worried she’d upset me by implying I was a thief or something, though I’m still not quite sure why she thought she’d upset me: I don’t her I don’t give shit one about that arseholes’ boots and “don’t turn into a hippie on me Marina: I didn’t get upset about anything, I’m just making a point of highlighting the difference because I would never actually steal something from a guest like that backpacker” and reflected that the last time I stole anything in my life – literally – was a little ceramic bowl when I was 17 from some hippie shop, because I thought it’d make a cool chop bowl.

True too: I can’t recall once in the last 20-odd years where I’ve stolen anything at all: be it something worth $1 or $1,000 – I’m just not interested in other people’s shit, ..like I said, to me it’s like op-shop crap once someone’s already owned it and I want my own crap shiny and new – that’s half the point of owning anything after all: seeing it fresh in the box and knowing you’re the first person to open or use it.

Anyway, I’m sure that backpacker tried to claim he thought the guests were checked-out, but Marina told me they were switching rooms which means the cleaners would have moved ALL their things from the old room to the new one, which ergo means that backpacker would have HAD to have known those guests weren’t leaving at all.

I’ve thrown 6-packs of unopened beer in the bin though – and half filled bottles of wine – from actual checkouts that’ve already left hours before I got to their room: I don’t drink at all of course, so didn’t see any value in those anymore than the shoes/boots and there’s so much piss being drank and empty wine and beer bottles left behind in the rooms generally, I just view them as a nuisance now.

Alcohol is SUCH a cheap excuse for a drug with such ridiculous effects: I think a lot of people only drink because they THINK that’s a sophisticated thing other ‘adults’ do, when really it’s simple the effects of a very nasty poison that’s fucking your system.

Cannabis on the other hand, I would quite like to find someone who could get me more of that now but I don’t want to have to associate with drug addicts or lowlife arseholes to buy the shit: if I meet someone at work or find out about someone there who sells it, I’ll happily spend my evenings nicely baked and drawing or painting or carving again, but only if the person getting it is someone I naturally get on with to begin with – I don’t want to have to feign friendship with someone I don’t even wanna talk to, just for some weed.

I’m sure there are people though: it’s hospitality and a big hotel: of course plenty of people would be smokers there, it’s only a matter of finding the right one(s), discreetly of course since I don’t even want others to know whether *I* smoke or not – let alone whoever else does.

But piss: fuck your kidneys and dehydrate yourself just to feel like shit for longer than you felt good while drinking – only an idiot would think that’s sophisticated in any way.

Still, that was before: I told our Foxy Amanda that even if I find a half-eaten fuckin’ pizza on a table in a room from now on, I’ll me marking it and leaving it in your office.

I also finally remembered to grab some stamps for my board – choosing the pack with the cat stamp in it since Amanda likes cats – plus figured I may as well go the extra yard and get colour-matching Sharpies to go with the stamps..

Also a penguin stamp: that’s purely so I can stamp other cleaners boards when I’m there talking shit to them anyway, though fuck knows I should just give that penguin to Amanda – if anybody could use an easier way of telling cleaners they’re awesome, it’s her.

On the way out this afternoon I’ve stopped and asked “You always gimme complete room cleans and very little occupied guest ‘touch up’ cleans – that because my rooms are awesome?”

She’s then explained some convoluted horseshit I gave no fucks for at all, ’bout how she’d given all the occupied rooms to Sam2 – the fat-boy of housekeeping – because he’s doing blabla instead of blabla and bla and bla and bla – honestly I dropped focus and tuned out the moment I heard her talking about someone other than me, but basically I can boil what she was saying down to: ‘Sam’s fat and so lazy he doesn’t like doing real work like the rest of us, so I’ve rewarded him for being a slovenly toad by giving him MORE hours than everyone else doing shit so easy a retard could do it and you can all work like dogs for less hours and less pay.’

While everyone else in the cleaning staff push through the pain and exhaustion until they harden the fuck up enough to do the work, fat-boy over there just does a deliberately shit job of everything he’s too weak to do, then walks around grinning like the village idiot all day and why wouldn’t he – knowing that acting useless has not only scored him more hours and pay than the rest of us for doing half as much, while also knowing he’s pulled the wool right the fuck over Amanda’s eyes.

Nobody should be rewarded for pretending to be too useless to work like everyone else – especially when it’s so obvious to everyone with eyeballs that it’s happening.

“All you had to say Amanda, was ‘Yes, your rooms are awesome!’ – it’s like getting blood out a stone: I don’t even have enough FINGERS to count how many times Lynette tells me how awesome I am in a single day, while you.. UGH..”

‘I’m not going to feed your ego.’

“Like there’s *any* risk of that happening.”

Whatever: with the boots forgotten about, I got to hone my focus into being annoyed with Amanda about her objecting to my using the towels and other cloths in guest bathrooms to mop the water up and clean each, bathroom: she’s still insisting I use 20 tiny rags for every bathroom; I’m still telling her that;s fucking retarded – not only because a mop would be more efficient in lieu of towels, but because every motherfucker in the cleaning staff are using towels exactly the same as I have been.

Not only that, I’ve just started doing half-hour rooms and that includes the bathrooms: telling me to stop using towels like I have been, she may as well be telling restaurant staff to clean the kitchen with a toothbrush – she’s effectively doubled the amount of time each bathroom takes me to do, for no good reason but a few laundry staff bitching because they don’t like having dirty things arrive in the dirty washing chute.

And that’s not even touching on the fact that almost all the stains in towels, hand-towels and facewashers are due to the guests themselves using them for everything from removing make-up to mopping-up their menstrual blood before dropping them on a wet floor and checking-out the hotel: barely any stains can be attributed to me yet Laundry’s complaining about my towels specifically.

They’ve got the easiest job of all the housekeeping staff: yawning their way through another sleepy day folding shit in no particular hurry while most of us are upstairs racing to get rooms guest-ready one after another for five hours straight – yet they’re whining about having to bleach a few stains out the odd towel each day.

It’s bullshit.

Something’s gotta be done about it, but Amanda’s getting the shits with my continually arguing with her about it: not only was I trained in the first week or two by two separate cleaners who both taught me to use the towels in each room to mop-up the floor and clean each bathroom, but Marina tells me this afternoon that she uses towels in the bathrooms the same way I have been!

It’s like either I am just not articulating myself clear enough, or Amanda truly believes the rest of housekeeping all use two dozen tiny four-inch rags for every bathroom, OR Amanda’s trying to cripple my lightening fast, panther speed and slow me down for no good reason.

Last I complained about it was this afternoon before leaving, where she’s replied “I’m not going to have another hallway meeting about TOWELS Jason” and she’s starting to get shitty at me because I keep insisting towels are the only realistic way to quickly get a bathroom cleaned.

I know I’m right: if everyone in the cleaning staff did as she’s telling me to do, it would double the time even the fastest of us get a room done – for everyone.

True to my word too, this month is not turning out to be some 20,000 word love-letter, but it is centered around our protagonist, you see: if only she’d listen to me; stop rewarding the handful of lazy arseholes and start rewarding those who are legitimately working their arse off each day and take my advise about the efficiency of cleaning with what’s available in a given room – things that already are dirty and have to be washed anyway.

Really, I have no clue whether she’s even reading: she just gives me that blank look most mornings when I get there – unless she’s feeling particularly bubbly enough to smirk that day – and I haven’t so much as asked: like the mutual secret and shared confidentiality of this diary, part of it’s appeal in writing is not actually knowing who is reading it or when.

I see the guest number jump around a bunch, but that doesn’t tell me anything but the number of visitors in any given fifteen minute period.

Any event and if you are reading Amanda, remember that though there might be profanities and colourful language strewn throughout every post, that doesn’t mean I actually feel as strongly as I’ve worded whatever I’m writing: I try to write as raw as possible because I’m trying to convey whatever emotion I’m writing about: if I’m writing about something lovey and warm, I’ll pull the profanities back until my writing is as soft and gentle as a cotton ball; conversely, if I’m writing about something angsty and frustrated I’ll use sharper, more clipped and choppy dialog to express that.

Everything I write to or about you is written to convey whatever emotion was dominant at the point the moment happened, but being organic creatures those emotional states are usually in a constant flux and morphing into other feelings – so don’t think simply because I might write something snarky or pissy or warm or mooshy, that I’m still feeling or thinking that way because above all else, I don’t waste my time or effort repeatedly writing about anybody I think not to be worth thinking about to begin with.

Excellent value, you are.

Saturday, 5th June 2021

6:19 PM

Scratch all that: I’ve just asked her when bin day is – she’s told me the boots would already be gone.

I won’t have to dig around in the bin! 🙂

Just cop an earful and have Amanda and the manager hating on me, maybe – that’ll suck too, but not as much as being waste-deep in bags full of strangers used tampons, nappies, sanitary pads, whatever else goes in their collective bins..

Well, I’ll still be waist-deep in shit, just not the physical kind.

Hate that I lied to her: not professionally as a supervisor or co-worker – personally 🙁

What would you have done though: knowing you binned something, then visualizing yourself wading through garbage bags; ripping the fuckers open one after another looking for the one bag that contains another bag that contains some filthy shit you threw away days ago – wasn’t like I was trying to lie about something important or plot some grand deception: I didn’t rip anyone off or steal shit: I only wanted to save her from knowing, because if she doesn’t know she doesn’t have to tell me to go dig in the bin 🙁

You’re on the phone, on the spot and you have a choice: tell the truth and start tomorrow digging in a garbage skip or say “What shoes?”


Saving her from the truth, I was and I still think if I’d just insisted there weren’t any shoes, well I’d feel bad for lying sure, but instead I now feel bad for the lie PLUS I feel like an idiot for telling the truth.

If I’d known then that the skip had already been emptied, I’d have just told her: I hate liars like a lot of people, though one little white lie for everyone’s mutual benefit doesn’t make me a liar – just, a little misguided.

Whoever owned the boots may not see it that way, but they should’ve taken their shit when they left, not just expected they could use a $400/night hotel room as their own personal full-room shoe drier for two days after they’ve checked-out and gone – what an arsehole.

Veering off topic, Samantha – the chick who was annoying me the other day being behind in her rooms yet still on the phone arguing with her kids continually: she was oddly nice to me today and calm enough to shift my opinion of her back to neutral, or a little over neutral into friendly – she was not weird today and seemed a lot more centered, which made her much easier to engage.

She came upstairs with Caitlan to bring me towels and my favourite super-king sheets, then sent Caitlan back up later with some robes and those sash belts they tie with: all rolled into neat little snakes between each robe.

Nice of her 🙂

Scotch Fillet Steak for dinner – nothing else: it’s a large steak – and I will shave tonight: may as well be well groomed for my official warning or firing in the morning over a pair of cheap, shitty shoes nobody cares about.

Sure hope there’s not too much ‘yes sir no sir’, because I’ll start thinking about the minimum wage, the half-hour room expectation, the no penalty rates whatsoever and might start getting sullen and pissy before too much blabla.

Still too: even if I perform like a racehorse every day and crush fifteen complete rooms while laundry staff sniffle, scratch their arses and fold washinig as slow as they like; even if I simultaneously charm every guest I meet; even if I use little rags too small to blow your nose with to somehow mop all my wet bathrooms dry AND clean; even if I am the model of an a-grade cleaner, there’s still more cleaners filing in every day all wanting hours and even with Lynette assuring me my new Queen will ‘take care of me’, there’s no way to control whether that happens in a place where even having your phone switched-on is a breech of your contract that can be disciplined by the hotel.

Course they don’t enforce most of these rules but everything is technically a breech of contract, which means almost anything at all can be used as reason for dismissal.

Leaves you in a continual state of performance anxiety as a worker: why pay one cleaner who can do ten full rooms a day, when you can pay two cleaners to do five rooms each – that’s how the management boil it down, which is a major shortcoming in their strategy – only the salary-holders and permanent employees have any reason to develop a sense of being properly employed – all the casuals just have to take it one week at a time which in turn makes any real loyalty to the employer impossible to develop.

Even writing that could be considered a breech of contract if it weren’t worded so neutrally and intended as feedback on an arrangement that’s rigged to always benefit the hotel before its employees: something that should be changed to improve the general stability of workers – in-turn increasing their willingness to give more of themselves.

I’m pushing myself at work because I’m still improving and have honed my focus in on Amanda as the person I’m beholden to – not the management, not the owners, not the hotel – that one Foxy supervisor.

My god, this steak is making me literally salivate..

5:48 PM

So now I’m in shit, for throwing a pair of muddy boots in the bin while cleaning a checkout yesterday.

Caked in a half-inch-thick layer of nasty, shitty mud and drying on the windowsill, nothing else was left behind in the room and so I’ve used a white garbage bag just to avoid having to touch the stinky shit, then dropped them in my larger black bin bag I had outside the room.

At the time I thought I might stop by Amanda’s office and dump them in there somewhere, though by the time I’d done the last two rooms I’d completely forgotten about the shoes and they went in the skip with the rest the rubbish.

Fast foward to 4:00 PM I’m almost home when I get a call from Amanda, which I don’t get in time, but knowing I didn’t forget to leave my key today I am curious why she’d be calling: I ring her back.

‘Hi Jase, did you find a pair of shoes in 44 yesterday? You cleaned that room.’

Instantly I imagine myself standing in a green garbage skip ripping open twenty-odd garbage bags to find the one with the boots in it, waist deep in rubbish..


“Ugh, no.. no I didn’t”

‘Oh, okay that’s fine – the guy called back asking about them and said he left shoes on the windowsill’

“Yeah nah, no: no shoes.”

‘Alright then, seeya tomorrow.’

“Alright, sure, seeya.”

INSTANTLY, I feel terrible: I hate lying and do it so rarely I can FEEL the dishonesty chewing at me when I do, but the thought of having to rip through garbage for this pair of mankyarse, disgusting boots some arsehole just left behind anyway – no, just no they’re gone: lean into it Jason: if nobody knows, then nobody knows and if you tell her you binned them that means you’re giving her no choice but to either lie too or you are digging in that bin tomorrow.

I decide I’ll do that: fuck the guest – if the boots meant anything to them why would they just leave them behind anyway right?

Fast forward an hour or so and Amanda texts to tell me that if I’ve misplaced them, please look for them tomorrow and leave them on her desk.

I doubt she’d want them anywhere near her desk, but instantly crack wide open and tell her “I misplaced them in the bin! They were disgusting and I didn’t think they’d want them back GOD don’t.. I don’t wanna go through the bin for them Amanda!”

Now I’m in shit, kinda, plus may end up having to find them anyway: all for a shitty pair of boots I refused to even touch with bare hands.

I should’ve just shut up about it: nobody knows where they went, pigeons took them.

Dishonesty just does not sit right with me though.

REALLY wish it did,..

I can lie to people who mean nothing to me, but usually don’t talk to people who mean nothing to me anyway: lying to someone I know though – I’m sure she could tell just by my tone of voice and hesitation on the phone I was talking shit.

5:10 PM

More punishment today: top floor, every room.

Asked me two months ago and I’d have loved to be doing the top floor – obviously the highest priced rooms in the hotel because of the views – but having cleaned them a few times now, the top floor blows: not only because guests who stay up there are filthier and leave the rooms much worse than downstairs but with only six rooms on the top floor it’s so isolating it’s like being sent to the naughty corner for time out.

Downstairs – the Traditional rooms I usually do – a lot of guests not only leave their rooms very clean but go so far as to make their beds before checking-out: sure that’s pointless since we’ve gotta strip and remake it, but it’s the difference between how they treat the rooms – guests in the cheapest rooms are cleaner than those in the most expensive, who act like pigs.

Anyway, Amanda would come up every hour or so to check what I’d done and whatever, but I like to see other cleaners – even if we’re all too busy to talk at all – as they move from one hallway to another or room to room.

Friday, 4th June 2021

4:23 PM

There’s that moment..

Eight rooms today, which I might’ve considered a punishment list if I hadn’t made such a point of demanding a disproportionately large share of hours, which obviously means I’ve gotta do rooms and my list didn’t look substantially larger than some the others.

Punishment 🙂

That moment didn’t occur during all those rooms however.

Nor was it as I’ve opined to Amanda, that the difference between loving or hating a job like this pivots entirely on what kind of grasp you have on time: when you’re ahead and bulldozing through your rooms at a faster than average rate, the job is awesome – kicking the fuck out of it; but when you’re behind and stressing to catch up it just sucks – it’s kicking fuck out of you.

It also wasn’t when I signed-out (at 3:30 PM) then started leaving when I remembered the key in my pocket, took the key back and wheeled a single bed into the Lord Carrington Suite for her while I was there.

The moment occurred when I headed downstairs to leave a few minutes later and almost got to the end of the hotels semi-circular front driveway when a thought hit me: **Amanda is on the first floor: completely alone with that weird new guy** then **Nobody knows that fucker at all**, then **Even the guests are gone** then **Did he purposefully finish last so he’s alone with her?** and for a full two minutes I stood on the spot in the middle of that driveway visualizing the Colonial wing on the first floor – the dark hallway flanked on either side by thick wooden doors, inside the guest rooms with their gaudy curtains, carpet and cushions, how muffled the guests sound talking when I’m in the hall walking past and how easily a hand over her face could muffle any noise she makes behind one those doors – how quickly something could happen.

**I’ve gotta go back up and check on her**

Here was that moment: realizing I give enough shits to not want to leave without going back upstairs to find her and make sure she wasn’t being assaulted in some seedy guestroom by a complete stranger – I know that’s worst case, but worst cases do happen and a near abandoned back corner of a large hotel where the guests have all gone downstairs just looked like a red flag to me.

Maybe I listen to too many true-crime podcasts – but maybe you all don’t listen to enough.

She was fine and walked into her office behind me a moment after I got upstairs: I would’ve worried about it all night if I hadn’t checked, so for my own peace of mind it was worth it and I was relieved to walk past both our manager Derek and one the owners downstairs on the way out – both asked me which floor Amanda was on which I happy told them,“Our floor, 1st! She’s around the storage rooms and her office packing up!”

Yeah you call me stupid, paranoid, whatever: it’s always being stupid until something does happen, then it’s ‘Oh gosh, we should’ve/could’ve/would’ve seen that coming. ‘

Thursday, 3rd June 2021

1:53 PM

My brain gets the day off with the rest of me: I’ve gotta recoil my vaporizer, and washing, and order contacts, and get organized.

Reminds me of the little device I ordered along with two others a few weeks ago and planned to give to you, but decided against it: chances are you’ve already tried them so wouldn’t want it I figured, but if you did use it I’d have to keep you supplied with eliquid in flavours you like and that, would most likely end-up being just a pain in the arse.

It’s still in the cupboard unopened in it’s box.

Don’t forget my cart 😉

Wednesday, 2nd June 2021

4:20 PM

So I’m just finishing a bathroom this morning – quietly minding my own while I get shit done – when Lynette comes in and starts asking me about blogs: telling me Tony in the Laundry was talking about them and telling me she wouldn’t mind starting one etcetera.


If EVERYONE knows, there’s no point writing – it’s the confidentiality and the shared secret that makes it work and though I might give it to one or two others eventually – maybe Marina, she’s got a dark sense of humour – it isn’t much good if I have to continually monitor everything I write..

But would I?

Now I think about it, probably not though I’d likely tone-down how colourfully I worded things if I have to consider whether that person will get butthurt if I say this, or this person might take sarcasm too seriously if I say that..

Course if Lynette really did want one it’d be nothing for me to simply create it for her: there’s plenty of space and I’ve got more server than I actually need, but I don’t think she just happened to be talking about it because Tony just happened to be talking about it and then she subsequently just happened to find her way to asking me whether I happen to know about websites..

Maybe, but that’s an awful lot of coincidence happening in one fuckin paragraph, isn’t it?

Amanda, just SHHH.

Charmed my guests today I did: not only advising them on the clothes they’d be wearing when they were out in the hallway trying to decide, but listening to them on and on about the walk they’d done to some lookout and then leaving those pretty little arrangements of towel and toiletries at the ends of every one of their beds while doing their rooms, while they were out – hiking at narrow-neck.

My guests.

My rooms.

My supervisor.

Anyway it might cost a few extra cents in consumables for the hotel but the positive impression that’ll leave on guests means they’ll be much more likely to speak glowingly about how they were taken care of, which means they’re more likely to return or recommend it to others – this was a group of eight old women who all have bingo friends to recommend accommodation to after all, not sleazebags looking for a fuck-pad his wife won’t find out about.

Better they leave happy for an additional 0.10c per guest than have ’em complain to their friends back home about the hotel being too cheap to provide a fresh towel each day.

Tuesday, 1st June 2021

6:00 AM

This months post will not be all about her, but I needed a title to kick it off and she’s the most recent, recurring topic I’ve been writing about, so that’s what we’ll start with and really, Amanda’s pretty interesting in her own right: I may use words like Cute and Feisty as descriptors but she’s more complicated than that with the reason she’s central to the plot being that she’s central to the cleaning staff and the glue that holds it together, basically.

She is – at least in the context of housekeeping – our Queen.

Certainly mine.

And sure, many people are more complicated than they might first project, but I’m not interested in many people: with over seven billion arseholes all shitting the planet up every day there’s just too many to care about most, and considering that I’m only here for a blink of time, selectively focusing on people who tick the right boxes for me personally is the only way to have a meaningful anything with anyone regardless the context of that relationship – whether it’s a workmate, casual acquaintance, girlfriend, animal or a foxy supervisor, I do not find the majority of people interesting in the slightest so when I do happen upon people who catch my attention for whatever reason, they get that focus.

Anyhow I tried not to write about the hotel – at least not write about all my unfiltered thoughts while I work there – but by some miracle I haven’t pissed anyone off enough to be fired already and will probably be working there longer than I thought, which means using aliases like “Foxy Supervisor” and “The Favourite” and “The Weird & Slightly Creepy New Guy” are just a bit vague to work with on a daily basis.

And no: Weird & Slightly Creepy New Guy is not me – this dood looks awkward enough to be the kind of person to wrap a mask around his head then sneak around town leering in windows at night and also a person why, quite oddly, I have never once seen around town at all, in five years or even in the last recent few weeks or months.

Everyone else at the hotel I have some memory trigger of the face being at Coles or walking around the main street or whatever: some like Amanda and Marina and a few others, I’ve seen around town the entire time I’ve lived in Katoomba and that still spins me out – to suddenly be knowing all those faces I’ve been walking past for so long and never stopped to say anything to, because you just don’t when there’s no reason to.

Whatever though: Babe is our protagonist for the month – or antagonist depending on the day and dynamic – or however long she stays interesting to me for and I’ll examine why she’s so interesting to me at some point later, since I’m still unsure myself – she’s tiny, she’s cute, she’s in control, she’s warm, she’s funny and she’s moody and though she tries to maintain that poker face much of the time it’s such a thin veneer there’s no great difficulty in seeing how she’s actually feeling just beneath the expressionless. expression.

And Foxy, of course: foxy and catlike.

5:41 PM

I have shit to do now I’m back and it wasn’t the most eventful day anyway so there’s not a lot to update, outside how annoying guests can be when they decide they want to switch rooms, and how well yeah: helping Samantha is, just WOW – I need to get myself a script for Valium to do rooms with her she’s, mental.

Only one room I helped her with yet I almost gave her an earful after hearing her not only on the phone on and off and on and off, but actually arguing with her children on the calls: I know I don’t have kids so I’m maybe not as understanding as others might be, but to argue with children and allow them to continually be calling you back while you’re at any job, far out – hands free too, so guests up and down the hall are hearing her entire phone conversation.

By the end, I’d lost patience with her bullshit and when she’s asked how many rooms I’ve got left, I told her “Just two occupied, which I put on hold to come help you”, then added “The reason mine are done is because I’ve been *cleaning* since I started – not talking on the phone all day.”, which was as nice as I could be about it really.

I don’t know: we were fine afterwards, once it was time to go none of that mattered though she’s stopped to have a whinge at the laundry staff on the way out about how mean I was – whatever: even without kids, I could very easily find things to do on my phone all day more fun than working, that slow me down until I’m constantly behind then try to make everyone feel sorry for me telling them ‘I’m having a very emotional day’ and ‘My kids’ and ‘Oh the kids’ and ‘But my kids’ but none of the other cleaners who have kids do that sorta shit and there’s only so much ‘the kids the kids’ anyone can hear before it simply becomes a irritation and a stale excuse.

Like she’s spent so long trying to trigger sympathy from people to stop herself having to answer for herself that’s become her default mode of operation, but I see through most people like they’re made of glass, which makes most kinds of manipulation boring to me.

Course, she’d be fine if not for that: there’s nothing less attractive than someone who’s always sucking arse to cover for shitty behavior – however they do it.

What’s that? Wasn’t it me who brought Bananas every day for Amanda?

Sure was, but that was nothing to do with arse-kissing: the difference between grabbing three bananas or six is insignificant and I was buying them for breakfast anyway when I quickly got annoyed with how squishy they’d get in my pocket and started leaving them on her desk for when I wanted to actually eat them, then told her to help herself since there’s a bunch there anyway.

I didn’t leave her fruit because I wasn’t showing up for work or leaving at 11:00 AM with only three rooms finished: no arse-kissing was at play, every has been or ever will be because I do not get down on my knees for anyone.

That’s not about Amanda, but she’s not there today and there’ll be plenty about our Foxy Supervisor over the coming month so that’s fine: Lynette was supervising today and I’ve gotta say she’s pretty good value – nobody else has ever told me some variant of “You’re a good boy” as often as her – the moment I got there this morning I’ve gone upstairs and in the office where Lynette’s told me ‘Derek wants 22 done right away.’


‘The people are here already and waiting for it’

“Alright: 22 first. I’ll go do it”

Took me an hour to get that fucker done for whatever reason – though I caught-up on the lost time once I’d got back to my beloved Traditional Hallway and could crack open three rooms at a time – and as soon as I’ve finished that room I’ve gone downstairs to tell Derek the room was ready.

Later, I’ve told Lynette how long it took me: she’s told me I did great, even though I knew I didn’t: the first room of the morning is never my fastest, but one hour is a long time but naturally I kept imagining these guests sitting in the foyer just staring at the front desk as I cleaned, which got me right back to re-re-re-rechecking everything in a panic and the reason it took me so long.

But yeah ‘You did great!‘, Lynette’s told me.

She’s excellent.

Reminds me of my own grandmother actually – she’s just just got that grandmotherly way about her, I guess.

9:38 PM

Potatoes anyhow, now I’ve both the two cheeses to grate into a small mountain over the sour cream again 😏

Been an awful long time since I’ve eaten meat.

Discounting the odd sandwich from Coles or Woolies with ham in it, I had some chicken fillets a few weeks ago in brioche burger buns but no red meat for well over a year and it’s nothing to do with any kind of objection to meat or any wanker animal rights bullshit – I just can’t be fucked getting it when I’m in town.

Soon and suddenly though, I’ll just feel hungry for some cow (or more likely, lamb) and buy nothing but steak for days: come home each night and fry that fucker so it’s only just barely cooked on the outside – warm and still dripping blood on the inside – and eat it alone on a plate with only fresh-ground pepper and salt.

After a few days of that, I’ll have no interest in meat again for another year.

Trick to making a plateful of potatoes and carrots not be boring or suck of course, is to mix a heaped spoonful of sour cream and some salt into the saucepan while it’s still hot after draining the water out so it warms and melts around everything: this lightly sauces the entire plate, then the different textures and flavours from everything being layered does the rest.

Bedtime, though I might point-out before I fuck off that the site looks better on mobile devices: it’s okay on laptops and larger screens, but back when I was rewriting the CSS and theme I used to always edit and write on my phone,so the mobile style-sheets are the ones I focused the most on.

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