Then the day goes by, these days the big boss poking around, sending in spies, a corporate world with the slightly tainted air of used car sales that I find hard to absorb, my only foray into corporate culture having been the peculiar blend of glitz, education, glamour and soullessness that was CAA, as I find myself stressing over losing a job I would like more without the smoggy aura. Yesterday I had vowed to take a half hour break in the day so I could blog and feel like a writer instead of a person trying to cheapen the life experience.--as a few would-be clients intimate. But the big boss was swooping and snooping, and my schedule was looking tentative. I began the job with a certain amount of promise and flair but may not live up to my potential. When that happens in the timeshare/activity business, they send you to booths in the hinterland where the people never come, like window-watchers in Japan left to flounder without work, until you quit. Anyway the days get away from me, and I am grateful for the job, jobs disappearing on this island, and soon it is time to pick up Kaikea, celebrate her accomplishment of going she-she at school with ice cream, a bribe now gone way round the bend, get home, get dinner going, once a week maybe a surf break, but then too tired for dinner, ply her with movies so I can think grown up thoughts for long enough to restore myself, but mostly I will have to settle for mindless distraction like American Idol, brain cells having burned out and sleeping already, then fall asleep with her, only to wake with words in my head and too tired to get them out. Again.
Things are tough in the timeshare business. Forever they have offered a $1000 sign-on bonus to entice people to this commission only job, then they cut the bonus, then they stopped hiring. My company got a windfall when the competition across the street, Wyndham, crumpled. They brought on the best from that job, hence my competition. And the big boss has brought in some killers. There's the bonafide used car salesman who blocks the sidewalk and works up such a lather the people surrender to his pitch just to get around him. And the pushy tattle tale chick who would tell on her mother to get her fired if it would get her ahead. Then the 350 mountain of a man whom I suspect just carries them over by the napes of their necks and puts a pen in their hands. He tells them all manner of lies--I know because I talk to some of his survivors. He promised one little vegetarian gardener lady a full buffet smorgasbord and a one hour presentation. Which is almost true. You get muffins and a hardboiled egg for breakfast, and you should be done in two hours. Except you have to make a minimum income. And you have to bring your husband if you're married. He doesn't care about the rules, or people's time, and the punishment for all the lies and deception? It's not a business that reprimands lies. It's a numbers game. Get enough people to show, and they'll buy. Somehow, inexplicably, I have to tell the truth. I can tell the best version of the truth, but it has to be truth. If I don't--
Shit!...I was just trying to come up with a way to describe the feeling of snakes in my stomach when I've bullshitted too much and then the big boss walks in! I had barely enough time to close the blog window. Not good. This is the only booth that has internet access--did I mention I'm at work? How I'm writing? But I was feeling smug since I already booked two tours today, not so bad, enough to keep me from window-watching. But now I suppose I should smile at strangers and see if I can carry them over by the napes of their necks.
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