Yesterday marked one week until my departure and how fitting that the resort called to screw up my whole "I'm finally ok with this whole moving thing."
Human Resources: "We just want to get on the same page as you, can you answer a few questions?"
Me: "Of course!" Thinking they'd ask if I prefer a suite overlooking the ocean or the bay.
HR: "You know you'll mostly be a 'moment maker' here at the resort: making sure the guests are happy, asking if you can refill drinks, organizing games, that stuff, right?"
Me: long pause "No, I was under the assumption that that would be 1/3 of my duties."
My insecurities about being shy started to bubble up. My stutter became quite apparent. Flashbacks of sorority recruitment returned when I was given the position of floater: the girl would who rescue a sister when a potential new sister couldn't stop talking about her one summer at band camp and I would swoop in to rescue the sister, because I can talk to a wall. Even though I can ask anyone questions about themselves until we both feel like I know you on a seriously personal level, I hate to do it to people I don't know or care about.
Me: "Ideally, I'd like to work in Marketing," I finally mustered.
HR: "hhmm, well, we can discuss that once you get here, see how it all fits. And what about housing, what were you told?"
Me: and there goes my dreams of living on the resort, "I was told it would be provided for the entire 6 months I was there. Including three meals a day."
HR: "Housing is usually temporary."
long pause. Have you seen the rates for rentals in St. Thomas? Get ready for this: 1 bedroom... $1,195 a month. I didn't put extra numbers on there, check my references. It's Craig's List, it's always Craig's List.
Me: "But that was the main reason I decided to accept the job. There's no way I can afford to live on this salary and manage to live there."
HR: "Hhmm, well you're only here for 6 months, so we can discuss it once you're here."
Me: "Ookkkk. What about scheduling, shifts? Who would be my boss?"
HR: "We're looking for a Director of Entertainment right now. They'd set the schedule, shifts, get acts together, that sort."
Jackpot. I was still trying to digest the housing situation but after we awkwardly ended the phone call, I realized I should gun it for this Director of Entertainment gig. HR got a lovely email from me shortly after.
Me: "Right. Ok then, see you on Tuesday!"
As chipper as I might have sounded on the phone, the conversation provided me with slight introductions into a full-blown panic attack. What if I get to the resort, I'm asked to walk around and make sure guests are having a good time, while secretly making fun of their Tevas and sunburns, hating myself for doing so, getting paid minimum wage and living in a place I can't afford?
Then I'll have a good story.