Stuff And Pandemic Stuff

A novel coronavirus has gripped the world, changing the lives of Apple factory workers in China to lifeguards in Australia, drag performers in Brooklyn to schoolteachers in Brazil. It's the global scale of this outbreak that I have to keep reminding myself of whenever I get the woe-is-me blues. Although the death rates have a way of keeping you humbled and focused, especially here in the US, I am thankful we have such dedicated healthcare workers and damn good medical care in this country. It was the only bulwark we had to stop the tsunami of death that could have washed over us and kept the numbers in the tens of thousands (over 95,000 at the time of this writing) instead of the projected millions we might have had to bury. I'm not in a mood to rage over the politics of our government's response right now, I'll save that for another post.
I wanted to add my story to the chorus of voices who's lives and futures have changed considerably because of this virus, and remember what could have been. Yes, this is the woe-is-me part.
Working at the Claridge has been an amazing experience, I love working in an old hotel. The history and beauty, the quirks and problems, made it a job like no other. I had come from opening casinos, brand spanking new buildings, state of the art design for the guests as well as the staff, unlimited resources for my department, I had always been pampered by the regiment and routine of working under so much scrutiny and procedure, every day was like the last and change came gradually and without the usual bugs and problems that comes along with it. It had already been done somewhere else, we just applied it seamlessly to our daily routines. Even when I began my performing career, I adopted a lot of what I learned from my regimented routines at the casinos and adapted them to being a drag queen. I kept a journal of what songs I performed, my guests, how much I made in tips, what I wore, the weather, my outfits were always carefully coordinated and streamlined, the song list adjusted to account for the costume changes. Even the rare hiccup, like a no-show guest performer was hardly a problem, I would just ask one of the dozens of drag queens sitting at the bar to fill in for the night. About the only thing that wasn't scripted and planned was my monologue, and you never knew where I was going to go with that. Hell, I never knew what was going to come out of my mouth most of the time. And bartending at the Studio was also pretty routine, for all the madness that swirled around that place. I got to work, had a few drinks, made a lot of money, had a lot of fun, went home. Repeat.
And then along came the Claridge. It's a well-worn story about how I thought I was just working that one New Year's Eve and ended up staying there for what is now over five years later. But in the beginning, it started out as just another bartending gig. Worked in the little gay club we had going, settled in, and tried to build the business. All the usual stuff. It wasn't long, though, before I realised the Claridge was going to be a different animal from what I was used to. 
You have to remember, the hotel hadn't been in private hands for decades. Even though it was still open and running all this time, it was only being used as a hotel tower for Bally's, all the public areas were closed off and not in use. Once it was sold to the current owners, and some extensive renovations were made, did it begin life again as a boutique hotel. And as with all 'new' properties, there were the usual growing pains. The first few years saw so many management changes, I quickly lost count of all the direct managers I had, not to mention those among the executive level. It seriously go to the point where I just called them by their number and not their name, that's how quickly we were going through them. Now, this amount of change has a lot of issues that come with it. Every manager and general manager had their own stamp they wanted to put down and everything had to change with the new regime. When one GM decided to close down my little bar, I was cast adrift into the banquet system, and for the first time in a very long time, I was unmoored. My manager at the time was... quirky... in his management style. He basically would tell all of us to come in at some specified time and then he would dole out assignments. One day I'd be working outside in the park for Reggae Night, the next I'd be working a wedding, the next I would be bartending a hip-hop party in the ballroom. Many days, we'd come in at that specified time and have to wait all day before our event began, it was an odd way to work but it taught me a lot about adaptability. The VÜE was under construction and somehow I was passed over to bartend up there once it opened but I slogged on in the trenches throughout the building and in banquets until, eventually, I was noticed by our newest (and best) manager and she put me behind the bar with Jerry and the rest was history. Well, kind of. We had a lot of work to do to get our name out there and we didn't have the best suited upper-level management at the time. The realities of a rooftop bar in summer-touristy Atlantic City clashed with the expectations of New York-style management who didn't understand the local market. Or the weather. Or the clientele. Or the city. Or the staff. And another succession of bar managers came and went until, finally, reality set in and some big changes were made at the upper level. By then, I had been asked to become the bar manager a few times but I had always turned them down. I had expected to take the position at some point but I wasn't ready yet. Once they cleared house, though, I was kind of trapped into it. In a good way, though, it was my own (positive) undoing and I take full responsibility for all of it. And I was excited and terrified at the same time. A combination of emotions that convinced me I was making the right decision. Thankfully, I was promoted in the fall, it was a good time to take the reigns, learn the job, figure out what I was supposed to do. That was another curve ball, I often laughed when the other hotel managers would ask me to do something, office worker wise, and I'd give them a blank stare. They were so used to me being around for years, and managing in-between actual managers, that they forgot I didn't really know spreadsheets from share drives. So going into the slow holiday winter season was perfect timing, I was able to focus on learning the office-end of managing so I could be better prepared for my first summer at the helm. Things were going well, after the usual lull of December and January, the temperate winter weather was working to our advantage. I noticed that, as each weekend went by, we were a little busier and busier. More so than the years before, and not only at the VÜE, but throughout the hotel. Our sales team was booking a lot of events and weddings and there were some weekends where banquets would be cleaning an event space from one party and setting up for a wedding in the same space. It was good trouble, as we say, and all the signs were pointing to a good season to come. I had events lined up, and some in the pipeline for the bar. We were getting new deck furniture, building an outdoor bar for the guests, everything was looking up! That's when we began to hear about this viral outbreak in China. Although it wasn't reported on alarmingly in the beginning, I remember thinking that if this spreads, the fear of it would be problematic. Stupid me had the high-hopes that we'd (medical science) figure it all out and it would be contained just like the Ebola outbreak of four years ago. Tragic, but localized. In short order, though, it was turning into something else. The staff kept asking me what I thought, and I was honest. I said that if it becomes a pandemic, even if it's not that deadly, the fear of getting sick will drive business away more than the probability of it. Again, here I was trying to look on the bright side and minimizing how dangerous this particular virus eventually became. But I was very worried for my staff and the business losing money. Through February and the beginning of March, though, we were still doing really well, every weekend was a little better than the last and the staff and I were getting really optimistic about the summer to come. And that's where all ended. Telling the staff we were closing was a really hard thing to do but to their amazing credit, they all took it in stride. It's not like they didn't see the writing on the wall. But, because I was the manager, I had to stay on and get the bar closed down for the duration and that ended up being a lot harder than I expected. Every day would be beautiful, the sun shining, the temperatures warming, and here I was throwing out all the perishables and securing the liquor and packing away all the furniture for an undetermined amount of time. I kept thinking of what was supposed to be happening but every day I was doing the exact opposite. It was surreal, especially for someone who's entire working life in the service industry has been based around the tourist season. I freely admit, I cried a little on my last day up there. I went from the pie-eyed goal of increasing our revenues by a third for the year to losing all the momentum we were building to put the VÜE on the map in this city. It was devastating. Now here is where I remind myself that at least my staff, our guests, and I am alive and healthy to start all over again. The entire world was brought to its knees and far too many didn't have the opportunity to survive and complain. But it still hurts to ponder the what ifs. The could of beens. The lost time. The rotten timing. As it stands today, we are looking to reopen once we get consensus from our local and state governments which might be sooner rather than later. I'm hoping against hope we will, eventually, regain the momentum we had and get this rolling again. I have the best staff in the business. If we can only go up from here, I'm damn glad we have a 23 story head start!