Okay, so someone near and dear to me—who lost his job two months ago—finally landed work as a security guard at a local resort.  Yes, a security guard; a job he took strictly out of desperation. (His unemployment claim was denied by his previous employer, his savings were rapidly running out, and his mother—who had to move in with him back in December after her own bit of drama—also lost her job.)  It’s a 50% pay cut from his previous position as a mobility advisor (someone who coordinates employee relocations for companies—yeah, I had to ask initially too) and is in an environment that he says feels more like returning to high school than working for an upscale resort.

But as he says—trying to maintain a sense of humor in the face of the unrelenting assault on his personal dignity—”It’s a temporary solution for a short-term problem.”

The list of rules he has to live with (for a whopping $10 an hour) is absolutely horrific, and would be ridiculous if they weren’t taken so seriously by management.  The more he tells me about this nonsense, the more convinced I am it’s all about wielding power and covering the corporation’s ass than actually caring about employees, guests, or about even about making any sense.  It seems in their eyes he is nothing more than a piece of furniture stamped with a ______ logo, and if they could get a piece of furniture to perform these tasks, they would.

During his first two days on the job fellow employees were trash-talked by his supervisor, homophobic comments were repeatedly made in the course of conversation, and coworkers boasted about their sexual conquests of other employees on company premises!

If it were me, at that point I would’ve thrown down my badge (not to be removed from the resort grounds!) and told them all to go fuck themselves, just like I did back in the 80s when I found myself in a equally restrictive and demeaning work environment.  Yeah, I was out of work for a while afterward, but at least my dignity was intact.

His list of dos and don’ts is extensive, although these are only a few that I could remember off the top of my head:

• no cell phone use while on the grounds, even on break
• no writing in blue ink (only his supervisor may write in blue ink)
• white crew-neck T-shirts are to be worn under his uniform shirt at all times (because evidently the resort bought the cheapest shirts they could find and they’re see-through)
• black socks
• black shoes that can be polished (no black sneakers, even though he’s walking and on his feet for his entire shift)
• no consumption of any beverage—including water—while on the grounds (except in the break room)
• use of the facility elevators is prohibited
• cannot leave the resort, and is expected to work during his half-hour meal break (is this even legal?)
• a report must be written and submitted outlining everything—and I mean everything—he does and observes on his shift
• must greet guests and fellow employees with one of those stupid catch-phrases some cokehead in marketing came up with

Yes, it’s a job, and yes it will (barely) cover his bills, but everything he’s told me has soured my view of this company to such a degree I will never stay in one of their hotels.

And did I mention he’s going to be working graveyard shift and in all likelihood won’t have a weekend day off so seeing him is going to be a bit of a challenge?  I am so frustrated at the whole situation right now I could scream.  The only thing that’s keeping me sane is knowing that our relationship can and will survive anything—even this.