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34 - Trying on a new hat

A friend came to see me in Sick Bay and was there while I was being released. He had checked around for me to make sure I could get back to my hotel room without further incident in my weakened state. You can't buy friends like that.
Later, I stood in line at the counter to speak with the incompetent lacky at the desk. I voiced my disappointment at the level of accomodation for the price they were asking, and he rolled his eyes, then he looked at me the way the portmaster at Taungoo looks at apprentices when he is going to lecture them.
"Look, bud," he pointed his finger at me. "You want to stay on this station, you have two options. Pay up and sleep here or take your chances. I heard you didn't fare so well your first day. Your call," he shrugged. "NEXT! !"
"Now you listen--" I prepared to explain in less friendly terms how important this was to me.
"I'll take the next person. You, ser, yes, we have a few of our luxury suites available -- Oh, I'm sorry, is this man bothering you?" gesturing in my direction . . . "Would you like me to call security?"
This would never fly on Taungoo or even on Tau. I heard a scream in a distance and the buzz of an energy weapon, and I figured security was the least of my concerns at the moment.
I was looking at my bank balance. I never had this level of expenses before. I never spent 10,000 credits at a time before. It was time to adjust my level of income, so I headed to the port.
Time to try a big job, I thought. A ship's hull needed replacing, and the only position not filled was that of a lead worker to supervise the whole affair. Really, how hard can that be?
Perhaps it might have been a little easier if any of the workers had at least attempted to figure out how to do the job, but no. The electrician went straight for the crane, the FUELING tech tried to handle the tool cart and the rest of the crew just went for whatever job they knew the least about. They wanted a learning experience. What could I tell them?
NOTHING about that job went right. The welders had the wrong compound, they had the wrong series of plating for this ship (it wasn't even the same alloy the job specified), even the cleanup crew had the wrong equipment.
Then it got bad. Two cranes operating in the same area have to pay attention to each other. Here, there were seven, and in a catastrophic chain reaction, one after another came into conflict with all of the rest until Johan was swinging from an errant hook, yodelling blissfully, flying through the air spread-eagle as he fell off, . . .
While he secured a perch high on the poorly-maintained superstructure where he happened to land, another crane with a plating section (for which nobody was ready) dropped its cargo right on top of a pressure tank, which sent all sorts of stuff in all directions.
Soon, everyone, from the portmaster on down to the ship wipers, was standing around, arms crossed or hands on their hips, staring at me. I grabbed the towel on the table, began walking, tossed it - twirling - into the air behind me and continued on down the corridor, away from the scene.
I think I had better find something else to do for a while.