Why being the supervisor of the continental breakfast at the Comfort Inn isn't as exciting as I make it out to sound...

Let's just say working in a suffocatingly hot enviornment, making disgusting greasy food for people to hoover-eat, and then cleaning up after those ungrateful people, is bad enough. Now I get to do all that, PLUS, I get to guess how busy we're going to be and how much food we will need (I'm not clairvoyant...wish I was), put in orders to companies that don't want to send it because the owners haven't paid them in months, find a place for all that food in our insanely inadequate and tiny kitchen, make the schedule when I don't know how many people I'm going to need there because, again, not psychic, hire train and fire people who aren't as dedicated and flexible as me...or maybe they're just smart, deal with broken juice machines and people who feel really really entitled to juice for breakfast and get really really mad when they don't get it, and lastly, I get to deal with the freaking laundry lady that cooks her "Indian Tea" on my stove every morning and likes to tell my workers she's the owner of the hotel.