Weeeeell fook.

It's been a little while since I've been completely off the xanax. For a long time it seemed like the curtain was up, I felt organized, and I could tackle anything. Turns out that doesn't last – panic is panic, obsessions are obsessions, compulsions are compulsions, and that looming feeling of everything being WRONG doesn't flipping go away because you stared it down once.

Over the past week or so it's been growing. Any changes and I panic. My head feels scrambled 24-7. If the room strikes me as organized incorrectly the entire day stops until I've fixed it. I tapped husband on the shoulder last night, and I lost count, so I had to keep tapping him until it felt like I'd reached an even number – then it took me hours before I felt like things had returned to balance because I couldn't really be SURE.

Tonight, I got to work and the AGM, a despicable, disgusting, cheating, horrible excuse for a human being, informed me that we had a maint. crew working on replacing carpeting on our top two of four total floors. Every room on the first and second floors was full. He said it was no big thing – they'd be working on carpets all night but you know, he'd asked them to keep it down, so it would be fine.

As soon as he leaves, I get 5 calls in a row from guests screaming into their phones about how unacceptable this was (wouldn't you be ticked at 11:30 pm if someone was hammering on your ceiling?). There were angry callers, loud callers, cussing callers, callers who thought this was my personal fault, the whole range. Then there was a fellow who refused to let me hang up and called more than once to attack me, preventing me from calling the GM to resolve the problem. Then the AGM calls me to scream at me because one of the guests called him (there is no manager at night, just me!). Within the first 30 minutes of my shift, just after my weekend, I've been yelled at by a total of six people. Then my GM sends the AGM-buttface back up to the hotel to tell the crews to stop working for the love of god. So now AGM, who just finished chewing me out, is alone at the hotel with me, and instead of doing anything? He just comes back downstairs telling me to deal with it – they only had three more rooms to fix.

All in all, I had guests pissed off, the AGM trying to write me up, my supervisor, difficult to reach in the first place, woken up and upset with me for being frustrated, and a crew of carpet-fixing-people angry at me for stopping their work and demanding to know how early in the morning they can get back to it.

So I took a xanax. I feel high as a fucking kite. Embarrassed, like maybe I should have kept my cool better, done my job better, not involved anyone. Exhausted, like it's time to curl up in bed with a bowl of something evenly sized and two spoons. Or maybe…time to look for a new job.

I can battle guests. I can battle management. But I can't battle both at the same time, and I simply don't get paid enough to put up with this bullshit.

And the worst part of the night? I brought two sodas, but I left one in the car I was dropped off in. And I lost the lid to one of them. I'm going to lose my mind.