The Best Day of My Life
By: Dowan Simon
Tags: Life Choices, Self Knowledge, Self Improvement, Biography, Short Story

Photo by Juan Gomez on Unsplash

Yesterday I was listening to the radio, when the announcer asked a series of questions to “meet” another person. One of the questions was “What was the best day of your life”. According to him, it was not worth the answer to include another person because it means that you depend on another to be happy.

And I agree with that.

It automatically came to my mind what was the worst night of my life. It was terrible but at the same time revealing.

It was 1998 and I had gone to Bariloche, to the South of my country, Argentina; to look for a job, to see if I could go live there.

The initial idea had always been San Martín de los Andes, but everything was given so that I could get a job at the Llao Llao hotel, through an acquaintance and also get accommodation in a sad studio. All this (getting a job, accommodation) was accomplished in a week, or less. It was mid-November and in the hotel they told me that they were waiting for me until the first days of December. I had taken a vacation at my work in La Plata (I was a waitress in the Old Café Theater, I worked 6 hours a day, I got good tips). I had to go back, give up, say goodbye to everyone, grab my gear and go back to a new life.

The worst night was when I paid the deposit for the studio rental. I had already said yes to the hotel. That night I was in a small farting hotel in the center, sad and dark. And a terrible anguish grabbed me, because I thought I couldn’t do it, because I was going to miss horrors, that it was too much for me, crying inconsolably I decided that no, I wasn’t going to do it, because I didn’t want to continue suffering (the last two years had been complicated); and I fell asleep convinced that I would return to my city, and that my whole idea of ​​living in the South ended there.

Sure, why was that disastrous night the best day of my life? Because the next day I got up and said YES, I’m staying. What do I have to lose. I have 23 years old and I can do what I want, I have to prove, and if I really feel as bad as yesterday, I will come back, but I’m not going to be left wondering what would have happened if …

The truth is that I was not 100% convinced of what I was doing, obviously I was afraid. But I decided to jump into the void (not so empty because I already had a house and a job). What was the worst that could happen. So it was. I went back to La Plata, I quit my job, there were farewell meetings, I gathered some things and I went to the Bus that put me in Bariloche. Alone and with a dream ahead.

And I was not wrong in making that decision. At first it was not easy: I worked 9 hours at the hotel, it took 1 hour to arrive, another to return. I practically did nothing but work. The department was internal, without light. Luckily I was half a block from a plaza I went to when I could sunbathe.

I spent the Christmas parties working (better than alone alone); in January my mom, dad and brother came to visit me; then the girls (my friends)came, and the summer was passing. Already in the middle of February, I had been at the Hotel for three months but again I was working as a waitress, and I was not happy. People of my job invited me to go out for a drink after work, sometimes I went, sometimes not. I had a colleague who invited me often and since I didn’t want to know anything, I try to ran away from him.

I was reluctant to not be doing what I liked, I wanted to stop serving tables (despite earning well, at that time $ 600 pesos / dollar; and the tips were very good). A possibility of moving me to the area was opened, they needed a telephone operator at the Front Desk, so I went, thinking that later on I could go to the Reception. The job was more routine and boring rather than a waitress, but we had fun with my colleagues.

One night we went to have a drink at Bar 1970, -and who knows why-, I went back to the apartment with Alex, a guy who worked at the Hotel as a Comisse in the Lobby, he seemed funny and paid attention to me.

And we stayed together for 20 years. In the middle of 1999 I moved to a little house that was closer to the Hotel, in the same building where other colleagues from the work lived; It had a small garden and in the background was the Gutiérrez Stream.

It was a beautiful time. We had a great time when we were not working. But I was solemnly bored at the hotel. The 9 hours seemed eternal to me, nobody called, (there was no Internet), and I looked out the window thinking about how nice it would be to be outside enjoying nature.

At the end of the year there was a vacancy at the Front, -in Reception- and I applied for the position (I had taken the job of doing a training) but the Manager on Duty said that the position would have to be for a man, and They gave it to a Bell Boy. And that’s how I got there. No chance of growing up, bored with the monotonousness of my work and the number of hours; I decided that I was too young to be doing something that I didn’t like (and eating my savings, because when I switched to telephony I stopped collecting tips); so I quit.

Previous arrangement with a friend to finish liquidating the savings and go to know New York, the city with which I always dreamed.

But that’s another story….