I still hate the job but I got a bit of a promotion and no longer clean vomit and piss. Me and the kitchen lad are still at war but he is well wary after I caught him outside a week ago and introduced his nuts to my right foot. If I keep going at this rate I’ll have enough cash to get to Mallorca by late July. The new job helps. I sometimes get front of desk and that means tips. My guts are killing me right now. I tend to eat in the kitchen if I can and I swiped some meat from the fridge for a sandwich mid shift. If I have food poisoning I reckon I could send a bill to the hotel for the agony I have just saved them if a guest had eaten the stuff. Martin is like a ghost at the moment. I do nights he does days. I’m gone before he is in at night and he is away before I’m back. I do weekends. He doesn’t. I’ve seen him twice in the last few weeks and things are getting strained. I’m paying no rent and he knows I’m earning - but I can’t afford to give him a penny. All I do is work, eat, shit, sleep and save.
