I arrive at a room – at the guest’s request – only to be told, through a partially opened door, “I need ten minutes! Check next door, they have bags too!”
TRAVEL TIP: Request a bellman… When you require a bellman! There is no point in wasting everyone’s time – including your own – when you could simply take your time and pack your bags slowly without an antsy bellman cooling his heels while simultaneously losing his cool in the hallway!
Where was I? Oh yeah, I was dealing with a guest with tunnel vision. It took me all of thirty seconds to load up the second room and return to Mr. Congeniality. Once again he barked, “Come back in ten minutes!” so I returned to the elevators and the next crucial element of our tale: the amount of time I spend waiting to take a ride in a metal box.
My average call takes at least twenty to thirty minutes – it takes ten to fifteen minutes per trip on the elevators alone – and yet my years if experience have left me with the ability to unload a luggage cart in two minutes flat. That means I spend most of my time riding up and down shafts when I should be taking loads and unloading.
Something just occurred to me; that was the gayest sentence I have ever typed. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
A return to the desk and another phone call later, and I’m back in front of the elevators. My journey lands me at the doorstep of a young couple with a major difference of opinion. Before we get to that, though, here’s a quick rundown of their belongings:
- 1 suitcase – for two people.
- 92 bottles of wine!
THE HOOK: Well at least you won’t be thirsty for a while…
PUZZLED GIRLFRIEND: Can you believe he picked this trip to turn over a new leaf and quit drinking?
THE HOOK: Timing is everything, right?
Her frustration boiled over when we discovered there was no room in her trunk for the lone suitcase. Still, her anger seemed to provide him with great joy; I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when he finally realized she was really pissed….
Back to the elevators… And the wait.”Please kill me.” echoed through my head, over and over.
Mr. Congeniality: Round Two! I once again pushed my abilities to their limit and loaded my bell cart to its max. Seriously, I wish I could photograph these carts and share them with the world, but professional behavior ties my hands…
Time to load the bags, get paid, and move on. In this particular case, I honestly never thought this moment would arrive!
However, once I began to actually load this particular van I realized I spoke too soon….
In this case too many cooks definitely spoiled the soup and so we loaded and re-loaded Mr. Congeniality’s van until the cows came home, so to speak. By the end, I surrendered and just let three women and two men – all as clueless as drunken children – jam that van until closing the back door required a major slam – and more than a little prayer.
Time for that awkward dance: I slowly rock back and forth as the guest pats himself down and looks for my gratuity. This dance ended with a whimper, definitely not a bang.
For my time and effort, I was rewarded with the sum of one dollar – American.
“Kill me.” echoed through my head once again.
And that was just one call, and a minor, but amusing, detour.
At least my life isn’t boring, right?