‘Captain Wales,’ aka Prince Harry, younger son of
Diana, Princess of Wales – in the news today, in Afghanistan, feeling no
chagrin for killing insurgents there – ‘If people are trying to do bad stuff to
our guys, drastic measures are what are needed, I suppose. You take a life to save a life, that’s what we revolve
around.’ One commentator from the The Independent had this to say: Whatever career HRH Prince Henry of Wales chooses, if any, when his
fightin’ days are over, we can probably rule out public relations. The thriving
business Harry couldn’t destroy with a one-line press release has yet to be
built. With the interview
marking the end of his 20-week tour in Afghanistan, the
question is not what Harry was thinking. The Prince was not thinking.
No, the question is what was the Ministry of Defence thinking in
allowing the interview to be shown in this form. Somebody must have approved
it, though whether that somebody wanted a controversy to draw fire from
objections to the newly announced 5,000 reduction in personnel, or was in fact
a sleeper planted at the MoD by Mullah Omar (naturally, the Taliban made hay
yesterday by questioning Harry’s sanity) is anyone’s guess. Either way, it’s
hard to see how anyone who heard Captain Wales describe gunning down Afghans
from his Apache as ‘a joy for me, because I’m one of those people who loves
playing PlayStation and Xbox, so with my thumbs I like to think I’m probably
quite useful’ could hardly do so without hearing alarm bells as well.
While there may be little shocking in the admission itself, though
those who enjoy being scandalised will affect a fit of the vapours at a man
paid to kill without compunction speaking of his work with such relish (his
sympathy that brother William is missing all the jolly japery was particularly
touching), what does shock a bit is that the relevant official could not
distinguish the blurting out of a brutal truth (that aspects of modern
asymmetric warfare are a fun form of high stakes video gaming) from the
propaganda (that soldiers do not kill easily and without regret). Propaganda
exists to mask, distort or reverse the truth, not to illuminate it, and whoever
approved the broadcast is trapped in a distorted reality.
Traditionally, young men with no other prospects join the
military to escape a bleak life on benefits. Harry’s version of state-funded
dependency may be a touch more lavish than the Jobseeker’s Allowance, but
psychologically his story is virtually identical to the squaddie from a rough
council estate. Desperate for some purpose and to escape his upbringing – ‘it’s
very easy to forget who I am in the Army’ – all he wants is to feel useful and
be ‘one of the guys.’ He needs, as we all do, to belong. And so on_
In case you haven’t already read between the lines,
my friend, Loraine, has a definite white personality – that means she is calm,
calm . . . calm and collected in the face of distress – until she’s NOT, at
which point she explodes! Thankfully she is a little more predictable that some
‘whites’ I have known. High levels of
anxiety are definitely a precursor for these episodes, meaning I can pretty
much see them coming and then I either move out of the way or, when necessary,
be prepared with a gentile answer, (as from Proverbs, ‘a soft
answer turneth away wrath). The only positive thing in all this is that she
is not one to hold grudges, thankfully.
Take today . . . for instance. In Loraine’s mind
she envisioned me working as a team member with Kat, turning over as many rooms
as possible from this past weekend’s lot – while I, on the other hand, having
worked with Stacey where we kind of went our own way, doing what we thought was
most useful, in the most random sort of ways, worked on my own on an entirely
different floor. It is true that I did not have the big picture – what was MOST
needful – but in my defense, Loraine didn’t make that clear to me, either. (Anyone who works here long enough soon comes
to realize that while generating great ideas is one of Loraine’s strong points,
communication is NOT!)
Me, I kept buzzing along, passing the closets on
the 1st and 2nd floors where various supplies are kept, thinking at any moment
I would bump into Kat and let her know what I was up to, plus receive some
feedback about what I could do to be most helpful to her. After several hours had
past I noticed that her jacket, which I had seen earlier, was gone, and also
that a set of the master keys were sitting on the shelf next to where her
jacket wasn’t. I didn’t know what that meant, but thought nothing of it, until more
time elapsed. I was downstairs checking on something and said to Stacey and
Loraine, ‘have you guys seen Kat? Her stuff seems to be gone?’ (I thought
perhaps there was a chance she had had to leave suddenly – something to do with
her kids or something.) But neither of them had any idea.
Soon after that Loraine laid into me, saying ‘you
don’t want to work with Kat!’ (What irony in that statement!) ‘I asked you
specifically to do that this morning. She must have gone off in a huff because
she wasn’t getting any help.’ She was pretty wroth – really what she was was
frustrated. She admitted later that she felt stretched pretty thin, what with
the deadline on the house having to be completed in a week’s time and all –
meaning that business surrounding the hotel has gone unorganized more than
usual. I know that she is up late, then up early, and has an awful lot of demands
on her shoulders – too many. (What is it with me and crabby women?!) I felt bad
– especially if it was me that had messed things up, and said so to Loraine. I
said I was sorry and that I would be more cognizant in the future of what
needed to be done foremost. She said that chambermaids work in pairs and that
that’s the way it’s gotta be done.
Later Loraine told me that she’d been able to get
Kat on the phone and spoken with her, that she HAD just picked up and quit – the
main reason being that she couldn’t bear working in such a chaotic atmosphere
and was not coming back. (Though I felt relieved to understand that I had not been
the cause of Kat taking off, there was also something about the explanation
that didn’t seem right. Kat had struck me firmly as someone who is especially
sensible and level-headed – that she wouldn’t have just left without having
said something. Plus she has been around long enough to have learned what to
expect from Loraine when she is in the middle of a particularly stressful time.
It just didn’t make sense.) Later, when
I had a free moment I texted Kat to apologize, saying that I’d been at fault
and that if she’d consider coming back, we could work together to make things better.
(You should just SEE the linen cupboard – it IS chaos!) I enjoyed working with
her SO much, and told her so. It was a day later that I got a reply – she said
that the situation had had absolutely nothing to do with me but that she had
left because Loraine had ‘spoken to her like rubbish’ and for no other reason,
that she was not okay with that and that she would not be coming back. (Don’t know when that happened – I was off in my
own little world. Loraine surely made no allusion to it.) I am most
sad to have lost that relationship, and just as it was beginning to germinate.
(Of course what this has meant for me for the next
few days is that I have had
to be the number one grunt around here. Especially today, feeling especially
guilty, before I knew exactly what had been the actual cause behind things, I
worked like the dickens – and alone. Later in the evening I did receive a text
from Loraine thanking me for all I’d done today. (No apology – I was in the
wrong – though, as things usually are, it comes down to miscommunication.
That’s one reason I usually don’t get angry over insignificant things – and
even significant things, sometimes – knowing that miscommunication is pretty
much, without exception, the primary culprit behind misunderstandings.)
This same day, in the morning, another of Loraine’s
steady workers, Ricky – who I have joked around and enjoyed immensely (he’s a
young man who has not had the best breaks in life) – also stormed off and said
he was done. I have witnessed his growing unhappiness with his working
circumstances over the past couple of weeks, but usually he has been able to
control his dissatisfaction and put his differences aside. The most recent
issue had centered around him bringing his dog to work with him. (Honestly,
it’s been quite a nuisance.) Loraine had been amazingly patient over it, but
eventually the patience wore off. More swearing, I understand – and not from
Loraine. Another face I will miss.
And then there was Tim (‘my name’s Jonathan, but
you can call me Tim’). Don’t know how he came to hear about the Richmoor; he
just showed up one afternoon saying he’d like a room for a couple days – needed
a place to get away. He was a seemingly sweet and gentle, respectful young guy, probably in his thirties – docile and very
Scottish – had gladly taken possession of his room (‘it’s fine, it’s fine’) even
though he was told it wasn’t quite ready for occupancy (maybe needed something
inconsequential like hoovering or something). I first came to interact with Tim
when he was looking for assistance in sorting his television set. (See! that’s
the number one issue around here – the instant someone checks in, gets all
settled on their bed for a little telly time, and woosh, doesn’t work – or so
it seems. I have discovered that it can all be blamed on the digital signal
switch-over thing – gotta have a second box or get all new TVs. Such a
problem!)
Anyway, I tried to help Tim figure it out, and as is
usual, as soon as he heard my voice he started going through the ‘where’re you from’ bit and so forth. It was
obvious that Tim was from Scotland – what with what has GOT to be the most delicious
dialect in the world – that highland brogue. He was a great BIG pussy cat, with
a bit of a beard – gentle and mild as a newborn baby (rhymes with crabby). Or so you would have thought . . . (To further
fuel the fire: Kat had had to move him from one room to another, according to
the prior agreement, as the weekend crowd began to assemble on Friday afternoon,
and Tim was nowhere to be seen. She had had to bag up his stuff and said that
among his effects were several books on Alcoholics Anonymous. And the next
morning, when we were serving his room, there sat a pink teddy on the single bed
next to his. And I’m not kidding.)
Late, late in the night – sometimes it gets to be
awfully late when I am pushing myself to finish up a blog entry – I heard
coming from his room at the end of the hall (Tim had been moved from a room on
the 2nd floor overlooking the sea to a little back bedroom down the
hall from me – he had meekly said ‘never no mind.’) the loudest, harshest language
conceivable with pretty bad swearing. It was quite startling, as you can well imagine
from my description. Tim was talking on the phone to a girl, and even though he
was speaking with seeming great rage and passion, you could detect the real
emotions that were camouflaged there – of great pain, hurt and disappointment.
The following evening when I was sequestered in my room for some alone time, I
heard shouting and commotion downstairs. It sounded like the same angry voice I
had heard the night previously. Though during the time he was with us, I had
bumped into him on numerous occasions, never did see Tim again after that, as
he left in the morning while I was busy working my tail off. Stacey said
Loraine indicated that he had put away a few in the bar he evening before. Poor
nice, crazy guy – just wanted to share the short story of another white
personality, who came and went out of my life in a very short period of time.
Also today was the inaugural ceremony of the
president of the United States of America, giving Obama a second chance to make
something wonderful out of our country. No
swearing here . . . actually, I take it back– there was! A swearing in!! (Beyoncé
was there. Understand she AND the United States Marine Corps Band lip-synched the
national anthem.)
[You know, I was totally wrong about calling the
vacuum cleaner, ‘Hoover’ – actually, its name is ‘Kirby!’]
Photos_
1- Captain Wales
2- a cold day in January – on the mall
