March 18th, 2005

The General

Raw fish for shattered nerves

Well, Rick, Ron, drunkenphlower and I met with the hotel to go over the bill. The final damages were about $6600, which was pretty much what J and I were expecting because of the crash pad screwup. That, along with many other things, will be discussed at the staff post-mortem, which I fear is shaping up to be a mutual recrimination and slagfest. One of my staff members posted this in her LJ: "Everyone I know is angry, depressed, or a combination thereof and it's rubbing off on me too much." Unfortunately, I understand exactly how she feels, and it's really sad. The guests loved us, and all of them want to come back. The hotel loved us and wants us back for years to come. The fans in general seem to have had a good time, and judging from the number of pre-registrations in the box on Sunday, a lot of them are planning to come back too.

Despite all this good news, the staff seems to be consumed with rage and hate. I know some of it is due to fatigue and overwork, but I think most of it stems from internal problems and personality clashes and, perhaps more than anything else, poor communications. (Imagine that, a bunch of otaku and SF fans with poor communications skills. In other news, dog bites man. Film at 11.) I am doing my best to try and soothe peoples' taut nerves, spread a little oil on the troubled waters, and reassure people that they really did do a good job, overall. Harsh truths and boots to the head can wait for later, and there aren't so many of those required anyway; a word to the wise should suffice. I know there are things I screwed up, many, many things, and all I can do is own up to them and try my damnedest to fix them.

Tonight I consume sushi with the Flying Monkeys of Registration, who worked hard and did good work under extremely stressful and difficult conditions, and follow that with a visit to Reverend Jack. This weekend, the ATC Board meets for the last time before the annual meeting, which will precede the staff post-mortem.

This is worse than the usual post-con depression. For a while, I was in a good mood, but now the black dog has come sniffing around again and I'm not really sure quite what to do.