young man, Kenny often had a difficult time finding the good in anything, even the sunny day because it was too hot for this time of year. He pushed the truck door shut with a resounding boom and walked toward the office entrance.
Peering inside the glass door, he noted his assistant manager doing nothing but reading some damn magazine. Kenny walked inside. “Morning.” His firm tone confirmed his displeasure.
“Oh hey, Kenny.” Rickey was the night manager. A younger and rounder man who could easily take on the likes of his daytime counterpart, yet was still somehow always intimidated by him. Perhaps it was because Kenny’s parents owned the motel. Perhaps it was just Rickey’s personality. He didn’t seem keen on confrontation. “Is it that time already?”
“Sure is. I see you’ve been busy.” Kenny walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, but when he took a sip, he nearly spat it out. “What the hell? How old’s this coffee?” He turned to Rickey. “Damn it, Rickey, you’re supposed to keep a fresh pot at all times for the guests.”
“Geez, I’m sorry, Kenny. You’re right. I’ll make one now before I head out.” Rickey emerged from behind the counter toward Kenny. “We’ve got eight vacant right now. Everyone who was supposed to check out today already has, so that should make it easier for you.” He dumped the remaining coffee into the trash.
Kenny’s annoyance with him was reaching new levels as he watched the man fumble and continue to make a larger mess than was necessary. He could feel his blood pressure rise and decided to leave well enough alone and get to work. “What about the cleaning schedule?”
“Marguerite’s making the rounds now. I think she’s in 265 at the moment.” Rickey wiped his hands on his jeans. “Okay, you’re all set. I’ll be taking off now.” He began to walk back behind the counter toward the small office.
“Don’t forget to punch out,” Kenny said as he logged into the computer.
Rickey reappeared with pursed lips. “That’s what I was doing.” He fumbled with his keys and made his way toward the exit. “I’ll see you later.”
Finally, Kenny was alone, which was how he preferred it. His parents made him manager about a year ago when it seemed they realized he was never going to get out of their house. Now he was forced to pay rent, although it wasn’t much. At twenty-eight, Kenny didn’t have much ambition. He always figured someday his folks would turn the whole place over to him and then he’d make some real changes. He’d make this place what it once was—a destination. Now it was just another run-down motel where cash-strapped travelers pulled in for the night. The pool needed to be re-plastered, the rooms were in disrepair. But for $49.99, you could lay your head down for the night, so long as the springs in the beds didn’t keep you up.
Kenny perused the lobby. “Oh, to dream.” He picked up the two-way radio and clipped it onto his belt. It was time to make the rounds.
The rooms that were unoccupied were the first to check. He had to make sure they were properly cleaned, nothing missing or damaged. It was the responsibility of the manager to schedule repairs and things of that nature. Kenny might not have been ambitious, but he always stayed on top of his duties.
He walked along the ground floor, under the shade of the second floor walkway. Room 134 was empty and so he used his master key to open it up. They hadn’t even gone to the credit-card-style locks, which would be first on Kenny’s list of improvements. Nothing out of the ordinary inside. Everything seemed to be in its place. The bed was made, although not precisely to his liking, about which he would have a discussion with Marguerite. But all else was as it was supposed to be and Kenny moved on.
Around the corner, toward the elevator, was one of the ice machines. The clunky sound it was making made Kenny take pause. He stood in front of it, hands at
Peering inside the glass door, he noted his assistant manager doing nothing but reading some damn magazine. Kenny walked inside. “Morning.” His firm tone confirmed his displeasure.
“Oh hey, Kenny.” Rickey was the night manager. A younger and rounder man who could easily take on the likes of his daytime counterpart, yet was still somehow always intimidated by him. Perhaps it was because Kenny’s parents owned the motel. Perhaps it was just Rickey’s personality. He didn’t seem keen on confrontation. “Is it that time already?”
“Sure is. I see you’ve been busy.” Kenny walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, but when he took a sip, he nearly spat it out. “What the hell? How old’s this coffee?” He turned to Rickey. “Damn it, Rickey, you’re supposed to keep a fresh pot at all times for the guests.”
“Geez, I’m sorry, Kenny. You’re right. I’ll make one now before I head out.” Rickey emerged from behind the counter toward Kenny. “We’ve got eight vacant right now. Everyone who was supposed to check out today already has, so that should make it easier for you.” He dumped the remaining coffee into the trash.
Kenny’s annoyance with him was reaching new levels as he watched the man fumble and continue to make a larger mess than was necessary. He could feel his blood pressure rise and decided to leave well enough alone and get to work. “What about the cleaning schedule?”
“Marguerite’s making the rounds now. I think she’s in 265 at the moment.” Rickey wiped his hands on his jeans. “Okay, you’re all set. I’ll be taking off now.” He began to walk back behind the counter toward the small office.
“Don’t forget to punch out,” Kenny said as he logged into the computer.
Rickey reappeared with pursed lips. “That’s what I was doing.” He fumbled with his keys and made his way toward the exit. “I’ll see you later.”
Finally, Kenny was alone, which was how he preferred it. His parents made him manager about a year ago when it seemed they realized he was never going to get out of their house. Now he was forced to pay rent, although it wasn’t much. At twenty-eight, Kenny didn’t have much ambition. He always figured someday his folks would turn the whole place over to him and then he’d make some real changes. He’d make this place what it once was—a destination. Now it was just another run-down motel where cash-strapped travelers pulled in for the night. The pool needed to be re-plastered, the rooms were in disrepair. But for $49.99, you could lay your head down for the night, so long as the springs in the beds didn’t keep you up.
Kenny perused the lobby. “Oh, to dream.” He picked up the two-way radio and clipped it onto his belt. It was time to make the rounds.
The rooms that were unoccupied were the first to check. He had to make sure they were properly cleaned, nothing missing or damaged. It was the responsibility of the manager to schedule repairs and things of that nature. Kenny might not have been ambitious, but he always stayed on top of his duties.
He walked along the ground floor, under the shade of the second floor walkway. Room 134 was empty and so he used his master key to open it up. They hadn’t even gone to the credit-card-style locks, which would be first on Kenny’s list of improvements. Nothing out of the ordinary inside. Everything seemed to be in its place. The bed was made, although not precisely to his liking, about which he would have a discussion with Marguerite. But all else was as it was supposed to be and Kenny moved on.
Around the corner, toward the elevator, was one of the ice machines. The clunky sound it was making made Kenny take pause. He stood in front of it, hands at
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