…is never boring, kids.
The average elevator ride is ninety seconds. In spite of what your husbands may have led you to believe, ladies, it is quite difficult to extract extreme amounts of pressure from ninety seconds. The exception, however, is an elevator ride with yours truly.
I recently escorted a nice middle-aged lady from Quebec and her unusually-quiet young son to their car from their room. (I had their luggage so it wasn’t as creepy as it sounds.) We weren’t in the elevator more than three seconds before it stopped and two young ladies joined us.
One of the ladies, a short brunette who was… you know what? I feel strange criticizing this woman’s appearance (gals get enough of that in our society), so I’m just going to say she would never be mistaken for Kim K and that she was dressed like she was about to paint her apartment and leave it at that.
At any rate, she had stopped by the Bell Desk earlier in the morning and stood there like a foul-mouthed, slacked-jawed yokel as I attempted to explain the concept of a full service hotel to her. Needless to say, she didn’t get it. An hour later, I was face-to-face with her again and this time she was accompanied by a female friend who was equally clueless and crass.
CRASS FRIEND: (Staring at my cart before looking at me.) Hey! What are you… oh wait, you work here!
ME: Exactly! So don’t even think about saying it!
As hard as it is to believe, the words escaped my lips before my brain could catch up. But I stand by my statement. I knew she had taken one look at my cart and thought I was a guest who had been given his own luggage rack.
CRASS FRIEND: Yeah… I thought you had been gave your own cart thingie!
If only my skills were transferable to the gaming floor.
My guest just rolled her eyes. Crass Friend continued to earn her name.
CRASS FRIEND: Hey… what are you doing here with us anyway? Why aren’t you on the service elevator?
ME: If I rode the service elevator, miss, I wouldn’t get to spend time with lovely guests such as yourself.
I really have to start carrying aloe vera to hand out to guests. Still, she got the point and lowered her head in utter defeat. But I wasn’t ready to let it go, not by a mile.
ME: I may be the “help”, but I like to accompany my guests downstairs sometimes.
Fortunately for CF, the elevator arrived a second later and she was able to slink away with her guest tail between her legs. My guest, however, was beaming.
NICE QUEBEC LADY: Oh, that was wonderful, Robert! (Not words I hear often from a female.) You put that despicable woman in her place! And then some!
ME: It’s what I do. Granted, my approach isn’t taken straight from the employee handbook… but it does the job.
NQL: It certainly does! She’ll think twice before being so rude to a bellman again!
And that’s why I do it, folks. That, and the poverty-class wage (before taxes), of course.
See you in the lobby, friends…