Chapter 8
Boring day
It was a boring day — a boring eight-hour shift that turned into ten because someone called in sick right before my weekend. I almost laid on the front desk, balancing on my stomach to take the weight off my heels. Whoever thought it was a good idea to make us stand in heels for a full work day is a goddamn masochist. The guests don’t even get to see our feet. Every other department either had chairs to sit on or wore comfortable shoes.
Zoe taught me this game she’d play whenever she was bored: look for cute guys around you and imagine what the relationship with them would be like. Are they abusive? Love-bombing? Great in bed? You get to invent a whole life from looks and vibes. I might’ve skipped the last part, but it’s definitely a fun way to occupy my brain when there’s nothing to do except stand there and look at people.
Maybe I had high standards — there weren’t that many people who looked appealing to me. I tried hard to lower them today. My personal favorite was “Nara Tour baby-face guy.” He was slender, slightly taller than average, and had full cheeks that made him look younger than he was. He extended his hand, not even looking at me: “Nara Tour,” as if I hadn’t He gathered his group and briefly explained the hotel rules, pointing out places on the resort map. I watched his full lips move, the way he subtly jerked away when someone got too close.
Fear of abandonment, I thought. I pictured us in a tiny studio on a sunny day. I’d place a plate of his favorite food — something I’d spent hours making — and he’d nod without breaking contact with his phone. No thank you, and he’d start eating.
Mr. Baby-face tapped his palm on the counter, irritated and I’m suddenly brought back into reality, “Hello? I’m missing one folder,” he said with zero warmth.
“Um, no — it should all be there,” I said. I knew, because we triple-check the folders in the morning. He glanced around the front desk; I was the only one attending.
“It. Is. Missing.” He over-enunciated each word like I was slow. I stood there in shock, mouth slightly ajar.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Can you call your manager?”
“Are you sure you don’t have it—”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Can I *please *talk to someone who’s worked here longer than one day?”
That hit hard. He forced a smile, but it did nothing to the tightness in my chest. I nodded and went to the back door.
He’d seen me at least a dozen times and yet my “intern-trainee” badge made me appear useless.
I called Carmen. She didn’t ask questions — she sprang up right away. That’s something I loved about her: she read people fast and knew what to expect, so if I called her it must be urgent. She was a force not to be reckoned with, but that’s a whole other story.
“Yes, Alex, what’s up?” Carmen said, annoyed.
Mr. Baby-face straightened as if he didn’t want *her *helping him — because it wasn’t help he wanted. He was there to pick a fight and establish dominance.
“This girl,” he threw a look in my direction, “lost a folder of mine. I’m supposed to have eight.”
Carmen tilted her head in her signature, don’t-fuck-with-me look. “*This girl* has a name. It’s Kira, and she’s been with us three months. I can assure you she didn’t lose anything. Did you count the folders when Kira gave them to you?”
Baby-face looked embarrassed. “No, I didn’t count them.”
“Then it’s probably with one of your guests. Ask them if someone has an extra. You’re supposed to compare the folders with your list *before* you give them away.”
He jerked away from her, and rashly asked something in Korean to his group, one of the kids pointed at the floor. The crowd separated to reveal a red folder. Baby-face rushed to pick it up, his face flushing.
Carmen called him over with a hand. He stiffened and moved close.
“We do a lot to help you guys out here. So next time be nice to our staff, okay? And I think you owe Kira an apology.”
He bowed slightly in my direction, mumbled something like “thank you” to Carmen, and hustled his group toward the elevator. I didn’t need his apology. In my imaginary-boyfriend land I threw his stuff out our apartment window and changed the locks.