In 1989, Betsy (my wife of nearly 22 years) and I moved to the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. Specifically, we moved to South Padre Island and lived in a small two-bedroom condo my parents owned while we looked for permanent housing. The economy was bad and jobs for recent college graduates were hard to come by in Austin, so Betsy applied for a teaching job in Los Fresnos (a notorious speed trap about 30 minutes from the Island), and I applied for a job as a reporter for a community newspaper called the Port Isabel/South Padre Island Press. We both were hired.
While we weren’t crazy about the idea of moving away from our hometown of Austin, the thought of remaining unemployed was even less appealing. We vowed we’d stay there only one year… just enough time to add real job experience to our resumes and become more “marketable.” Two kids and twelve years later, we finally moved back to Austin, where I hoped to immerse myself in Austin’s film community and pursue my childhood dream of making a movie.
But alas, with a wife and two kids to support, the dream would have to take a back seat to earning a living. In the mid 90′s, my family had built a small hotel west of Austin called Mountain Star Lodge. With the explosion of growth in Austin during that time period, the hotel had been so successful that they decided to double its size from 20 to 40 rooms. By the summer of 2002, the expansion was completed and my brother, Terry, who was the general manager, had indicated to my father (or so I was told) that he would like me to assist in running it. Specifically, it seemed , I was to share front desk duties with other employees while streamlining the procedures, including the antiquated reservation system. I had no experience with this sort of thing, but I always enjoyed a good challenge and it would help pay the bills while I pursued making a movie on the side.
My first day on the job was the same day we had returned the moving truck. Betsy and I had just spent an exhausting two days unloading the truck and trying to get situated in our new home. My brother had told me to show up around noon and shadow Blanche (not her real name), who would show me the ropes of how to check in guests, check out guests, take reservations, etc. When I walked through the door at approximately 12:15, I was greeted by the scowling face of a woman that would send a chill down Nurse Ratched’s spine.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Yes, sorry about that. We just got back from returning the moving truck and…”
“Steve, I have other things I could be doing besides waiting around here while you decide to show up,” she barked. The condescension rolled off her like sweat off a camel’s balls. “I’m only here as a favor to Terry.”
Was she kidding? Was this for real? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I knew I didn’t like it. I felt like I was being scolded by my cranky fourth grade teacher. I can’t recall exactly how things digressed from there, but at some point my brother walked in on the shouting match and delivered the line that earned him the 2002 Understatement of the Year Award.
“I don’t believe this is a very good way to greet Steve the first day on the job,” he said.
What had I gotten myself into?
