Work is wonderful!
I am so sick of people looking down on me for being a housekeeper at a hotel. I feel no shame in my job at all and I do not appreciate the judgement I’ve received.
I love my job. It is perfect for me. I’m a “clean-freak, very detail-oriented, introverted and socially anxious. Being in the background doing methodic and repetitive work is exactly what I want. So, why all the judgement?
I won’t be a housekeeper forever, but at the moment I am not in school and the only jobs available to me are minimum wage jobs. I chose this job. I wanted to work in housekeeping. I haven’t had a job since 2008 and housekeeping was the one thing I was pretty sure I could do with comfort and enjoyment.
My First and Second Day:
I met the head of housekeeping and the housekeeping staff. They are wonderful people. I trained with someone and she “sang my praises” all day, telling the bosses to keep me. I trained with someone different the next day, and she was even more impressed with my work than the first woman. I’ve been complimented and offered advances already. I’ve been told that I’m “overqualified” and doing great.
I declined their offer to put me on the front desk. That’s not where I want to be. I’m in my element behind the scenes cleaning rooms. If the head of housekeeping is serious about making me her assistant, I will accept. For now, though, I am happy where I am. I’m learning fast and impressing everyone. I’m not bragging, I’m just making my point that my job is what I want and what I’m good at.
This is my life. Not anyone else’s. I believe that people should work where they’re happy and comfortable. I have that. Why would I want to work in a place or position that makes me uncomfortable or anxious just because it’s more “acceptable” in society.
If flipping burgers makes you happy, work at McDonald’s.
If sanitation makes you happy, work as a janitor or trash collector.
If busting your butt cleaning up after people makes you happy, work in housekeeping.
Forget the judgement and do what makes you happy.
I would rather be happy than rich if I had to choose between the two. Right now at this present stage of my life, I have to choose. That’s just life. I don’t have a college degree, nor do I have any special abilities that will take me places naturally in the work field. I’m okay with that. What other choice do I really have? Being miserable and complaining all the time? No thanks!
I come home every day and tell my roommate all about my day. I talk about how great the people are, how the staff is like a family, how I love what I do. I’m happy and I enjoy the hard work.
I have a safe and caring work environment. I got lightheaded at work and the woman I was working with immediately jumped to my aid. She shared her homemade lunch with me (it was delicious, by the way), and made sure I got food at lunch time which the owner of the hotel ordered for the whole staff. I sat with her and her friend and they included me and made sure I didn’t get left behind in anything.
These are good people! I love them. I can tell they are going to be my work family.
I’m surprised by one thing, though. The staff, though no one is racist at all, seem to separate themselves by race. At lunch, all the white people sat at one table and all the black people sat at other tables. My extremely pale white self sat with my new black friends. I absolutely love Michelle and Cathy and I will surely spend my time with them. Nothing against the white people there, I just like Michelle and Cathy better. Gosh that’s rude to say, but I’m just being honest.
I also prefer the black men to the white men. They’re nicer, friendlier, more helpful and considerate. The white men ignore me while the black men talk to me and jump in to help me when I fall behind.
I have never seen race when I look at people. I have no qualms about calling people black or white. I don’t think it’s racist to do so. It’s a description of someone and there’s nothing wrong with it in my opinion. I’m white, very, very white. That’s a fact. I’m not going to be offended by anyone referring to me as such.
When I say that I don’t see race, I’m being literal. I have this problem (if you want to call it that) where I have trouble recognizing people. This includes race. I’ve met several people at work that I couldn’t remember if they were black or white. One woman I thought was white was actually black. Another woman I thought was black was actually white. Oops.
I love my job, the environment, the actual work, the people, everything. I am happy and I’m even making friends. I’m comfortable and I look forward to work every day. I’m not going to tolerate people judging me.