Unfond memories of Maeva

This time last year I was beyond happy to have started working at Club Maeva. It would turn out to be probably the worst job of my life. I republish this earlier post as a celebration of having left that awful place with the hope of sparing would-be applicants one motherfucking demeaning job experience!

This all-inclusive beach resort is a very popular vacation destination in Mexico. One is located in Manzanillo and the other, Tampico. Club Maeva is a great place to vacation (if R&R is part of the goal otherwise the constant "animation" can be a bitch) but a far less than great place to work (if you're non-Mexican).

I had the experience of working at Club Maeva, Manzanillo, last November, and would forthrightly caution any foreigner considering emploment as a Maevamigo: supervisors are harsh, working environment is not fun, Mexican guests are pigs, stressful long hours.

The team leaders---wannabe "chiefs"---in step with the boss who is sychophantically referred to as Chief are high-strung, overbearing, loud, egoists whose reactions are often out of proportion and sometimes bluntly irrational. (With this as the accepted model of leadership is it any wonder Latin American countries keep electing strongmen to power?)

being a Maevamigo is a bragging right for Mexicans for whom $4000 pesos and degradation and a sense of belonging beats working in a warehouse

Working conditions are stressful and non-stop---and degrading: Most of the guests are Mexican and seemed to equate all-inclusive with servitude. They were always demanding I pose for their stupid ass photos and thought nothing of interrupting my or any other Maevamigo's work and rehearsels for it. Even in mid-swing during a game of ping-pong they were piggish enough to poke me on the shoulder for a picture. This happened more than once! During meal breaks, which the "chiefs" begrudgingly allow, Maevamigos must interact with the guests which often meant subjecting myself to more stupid ass snapshots, intrusive questions, crude and inappropriate jokes whilst the plate of food grew cold right under my nose.

The hours are looooooooong, running from possibly 7 or 9am to 11pm or 1am with nary a respite in between (revert to above paragraph) six days a week. Sports activities piggy back one after another; then there are dance and theatre rehearsals in preparation for the nightly shows and further entertaining ("animation") at the Tropical Hut after the show. On top of all this, the pay ranges from maybe to little: maybe you will get paid if the Chief likes you and extends a work contract after the first month OTHERWISE the company tries to screw you out of pay, arguing the illegality of paying for labor rendered sans an inked contract. Barring that corruption, the $4000 pesos is little for all the work and hours logged AND, worse still, was less than the advertised $5000 salary.

Oh, and the other departments---0% foreigner---especially dining services, are envious and resentful of the Maevamigos. Why? Principally because we had the task of humoring and entertaining their crude, fat, ignorant countrymen with song, dance, and posing for stupid ass pictures from morning to midnight. (Guests are audacious enough to ask you to work on your day off. Talk about no class!)

Sadly, but tellingly, being a Maevamigo is a step up, nay, a bragging right for Mexicans for whom four thousand pesos and degradation and a sense of belonging beats working in a warehouse or taco stand. For some peoples, any attention is good attention.

Personally, I cannot abide nor find anything endearing in ignorance, racism ("chocolate bar", "little nigger"), lack of privacy, whimsical job security, in-house animosity, or dressing in drag. And so I left. A boy gots to draw the line somewhere. By all means go as a guest but flee from any job agency's lure of working as a Maevamigo.