Much needed rest, and a Late Anecdote

Currently in Earphones: "Tomorrow Never Dies" video game soundtrack by Tommy Tallarico


So now I'm back in Davis after a wonderful, restful week at home. Not only did I manage to get on to a decent sleep schedule, but I got a handful of fantastic presents for my birthday on the 7th, many well wishes by Facebook and by phone, and a great day gallivanting about San Francisco with Toes, Moose, and Sascha.

For the record, I need to find out what the hours are at Boudin's Bakery on Market Street. I have been thwarted the past few times I've gone there looking for a yummy bread-bowl full of soup, and I can't seem to figure out their cryptic system of opening and closing. I can understand them not being open on Sundays, but when we arrived there at lunchtime on a Saturday, needless to say I was perplexed.

In the end, much fun was had by all, and I believe I speak for all who came that the playground at Yerba Buena Gardens is one of the best out there.

As to the other order of business, and as surely most of you know by now, I had a rather embarrassing goof at work a few weeks ago. It was 3 o'clock and we had all of 20 minutes left before we took off to our respective homes. Our supervisor asked us to go take out the trash in a couple of rooms that had been used by a Conference group who had just checked out, but the only snag was that there were two rooms (i.e., suites) that still had not been vacated yet.

Now, groups that use the dorms as Summer Conference housing need to check out by noon on their last day. That's policy. However, we try not to be hard-asses about it, because we know it can be difficult to get everything ready and out if there are other things planned. As such, if people still aren't out by 1 or 2, we don't raise a fuss. Apparently we don't raise a fuss if it's 3 either, but that's starting to push the limits of our kindness.

Needless to say, it was well after a full 3 hours of slop-over time that we came through these rooms, and even then, we were initially told to skip the two rooms that still appeared to be occupied. I went with a couple of my co-workers to collect the trash, and found a lady outside the rooms on a cell phone, who probably was with the group who had stayed and had almost all left. I kindly informed her that we were custodians and simply taking out the trash, and would it be all right if we simply popped in and popped out with it? She agreed that it wouldn't raise a fuss, and I made for the first suite, figuring that I'd ninja through and no-one would tell the difference anyway.

Bear in mind that we go through rooms with people's stuff in them for the "Deluxe" services (i.e., fresh linens every day) all the time, so we were accustomed to sweeping through and getting things changed without difficulty. Sure enough, the first suite had suitcases and the like sitting around, but everything looked like it was on it's way out. I collected the trash from each of the two bedrooms and made my exit, happy that I had taken the initiative.

I was given the master key to the building so we could get into the rooms we needed, but I found the front door of the second suite completely unlocked, which will become my Exhibit A in this soon-to-become sordid affair. After a small knock and querelous "Hello?" on my part and utter silence on the suite's part, I noticed how belongings and trash were scattered all over the rooms, like the occupants hadn't even considered moving out yet (Exhibit B). I made my way over to the first room and found it unused.

When dealing with rooms that could be potentially occupied, there are two ways to go about it. The first is to be obviously noisy, such that if there are any people in compromising situations they have time to give fair warning. The second is to be silent in all respects, such that if there are people who need quiet (that is, are sick or sleeping), you don't disturb them with your work. While we usually marry the two together, in that if we come across a locked door, we call out before opening it, but maintain silence otherwise, I tend to be more on the quiet side. That way I can ninja about and get things done without disturbing anyone, which is almost always the case.

It was in such a stealthy respect that I approached the second room. The suite is set up to have a single bathroom with toilet and shower, conjoined by two washrooms that have a sink and a mirror, each belonging to either bedroom. While you need to cross the miniscule hallway to get from the first bedroom to the first washroom, the second bedroom is conjoined with the second washroom, and is usually immediately off to the left or right as soon as you enter it. The door to the bedroom was wide open (Exhibit 3) as I stepped in and looked about, noticing the same lack of order and packing that had plagued the common room of the suite.

The trouble started when I took two steps into the room and turned to my right to take a look into the washroom. Much to my consternation, I found myself staring at the back of a naked woman, who (thankfully) was obscuring an equally naked man. Despite getting completely flustered, I managed to keep my mouth shut just long enough to turn on my heel, and as I tore ass out of the suite managed a "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" over my shoulder. I heard sounds of surprise as I dashed out, but was so full of fear that I took off out and around the building itself.

I sprinted my way back to the break room, which happened to be in the same building, and took a few moments to calm myself. "Alright," I said to myself, "Catch your breath. Just lay low here for a bit. They didn't see you, and chances are they're just as embarrassed as you are. This should blow over in a bit, so just relax." Just as I begin to calm down, my co-workers come in with perplexed looks on their faces:

"James?"
"Yeah?"
"There's an angry woman out here, and I think she wants to talk with you."
::Oh, FUCK::

At that point, I start to get the shakes, and stammer out that I'm in no shape to confront her, and that I need to speak with our supervisor and get the whole thing straightened out. Luckily for us, we are in really high standing with the higher-ups, and as such the boss came right over to the break room and asked me what happened. After relating the story as best I could, he went to go talk with her.

I was feeling pretty horrendous as I waited for him to return, fearing the worst for my job, even though such things have been known to happen. He eventually did, and while he did chide me for my mistake, he was sympathetic and comforting as well, seeing how shook up I was. "However," he said, "You might want to lay low for a bit, say, head over to the next building and fold some clean linens." From this, of course, I caught that this woman was still stalking around looking for my head on a platter, and I was able to at least crack a smile at the absurdity of it.

Later on, I learned from my co-workers that this woman evidently didn't even have the grace to be embarrassed, as she immediately threw on a t-shirt and went after me, going so far as to accost my poorly uninformed work mates as to my whereabouts, and hover around our break room as our supervisor explained the situation to everyone else. Although I felt justified only in hiding from the whole thing, my feelings on the matter quickly went from shame to light indignation as I tallied up the facts. Not only were they hours overdue from departure, but lack of any precautions on their part and the gnarly behavior on the woman's part (though I felt a little bit better about the man, who I heard later on at least was a little shamed at having been walked in on) decidedly outbalanced the indiscretion on my part.

So, in conclusion, I walked in on a naked couple and had quite the adventure for it. The ironic thing is, of course, that if I had just kept my fool head about me and backed away slowly, the two wouldn't have noticed me, given my predilection to stealthiness. As I said at the time, "It would have been freakin' hilarious, had it not been so utterly terrifying." With time and perspective on my side, now it is simply hilarious.


Enough, More Later.
- James