No.

I have officially cried every day this week.

In fact, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve cried nearly every day during the whole month of July.

Exhaustion, fatigue, and frustration at the public has officially gotten to me, and so I’ve been crying. A lot.

Sometimes, I cry on the way to work. Oftentimes, on silent car rides home, and of course I’ve cried in the mechanical room and out on the back deck during many a shift.

You see, crying itself is not an uncommon look on me.

More recently though, it’s become a staple, rather, in the chapter of Summer 2021.

Facing the onslaught of hangry ungrateful guests (locals and tourists alike) during the busiest time of the year, I’ve found that one of the few things that has kept me sane (and from crying on the spot) has been using my voice to say one simple but ever so powerful word:

No.

“I know you guys are probably busy, but do you have room for 11? (because I definitely didn’t plan ahead and anticipate that summertime in Alaska would be busy)”

No.

“I’d like to place a 12 waffle order (and not tip because I’ve never worked in foodservice).”

No.

“We’ve been waiting a long time and though I see you’re insanely busy and are so obviously understaffed like the rest of the nation, can you make our coffees, like right now? We’ve been waiting a long time (and are too impatient and unsympathetic to how much you’re struggling to keep up).”

No. No. No. No. NO.

It’s just soooo glorious to say. The word just rolls off the tongue. Silky smooth effortless no.

It helps, saying no.

It gives me power, and pleasure, knowing that I can use my voice to set boundaries and put people in their place, which they’re often not used to.

This is especially so in customer service, where the outdated phrase, “The customer is always right!” still reigns supreme.

No. The customer is not always right.

Man, I thought 2020 was rough but this… this is far worse.

Circumstances, are far worse. Vendor supply shortages, are even worse. Lack of staffing is dangerously worse, and people have been the absolute worst.

Quite simply put, they’ve taken everything from me.

They’ve taken from my staff, this community and its understaffed and overworked service workers, and I’m left struggling day after day trying to accommodate those who are draining me: emotionally, mentally, and physically.

I feel used and abused, and I have nothing left to give except this one ounce of pleasure in telling them no.

I find my defenses depleted, my energy extinct. My melodramatic meltdowns, however frequent, still don’t satisfy this need to be free of people, locals and tourists.

And no, it did not get better after dip netting. Lies!

And so, after weeks of donning the delicious no into my vocabulary, I decided it was time I say yes. And this time, to a very welcome escape.

My gem and I, having made reservations months ago, finally got to enjoy a meal to ourselves over in Halibut Cove at The Saltry.

Perched on the dock overlooking the sea, we drank and ate to our heart’s content, exploring the seaside village and relishing the change of position from constantly serving to actually being served.

Confiding to him, I shared that I felt I had changed over the summer, had turned into this bitter and mean woman.

In his thoughtful answer, he told me that he didn’t think I was turning into a mean woman. Instead, I was merely finding my voice and using it to set some much needed boundaries between me and the public.

So yeah, if there’s any plus side to working the monstrosity of this busy summer, it’s that yes, I have found my voice.

(and I am not afraid to use it)