When she shakes my hand, she’s quick about it—reminding me more of a hardened businessperson than a young woman in an ill-fitting skirt suit.
“Rosy says you don’t have any work experience.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” I raise and lower my eyebrows in hopes of a laugh.
Nope. Not even a hint of a smile. She lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m an extremely busy person. I don’t have the time or patience to play around. This job may be a joke to you, but Ineedit, and I won’t have anyone messing this up for me. So save the charm for the guests, straighten up, and pay attention, because I don’t repeat myself.”
Yikes. Lovely Brianna is also a little bit scary.
Taking out a foolscap-size map of the resort, she hands it to me along with a pen and a pad of paper.
“Come on,” she says, turning unceremoniously and hurrying down the steps to the side of the building where a dozen golf carts are parked. She gets in the driver’s seat and starts it up as I get in. As soon as I’m beside her, I catch a whiff of a delightful scent. “That is a lovely perfume you’re wearing.”
She scowls as she pulls out of the stall. “It’s Vicks VapoRub. My daughter is sick.”
Sothat’swhy she’s miserable. She’s married with children. That would do it.
We head down the palm-tree-lined paved path. “As you can see on the map, the buildings are called A through F, the closer they are to the beach, the more luxurious the building. This one here, building A,” she says, pointing to a four-story white hotel building, “has a lovely jungle view on the opposite side, and it has its own pool and an open-air Japanese restaurant at night that doubles as a buffet for breakfast and lunch.
The trees clear, and a large, very refreshing-looking pool comes into view. Couples in swimwear lounge around while a few children splash each other. I should be one of those adults. Or one of the ones splashing, really.
We make a sharp left and soon stop in front of a large restaurant bar with an outdoor amphitheater. “This is the hub of the evening activities—it’s a night club with live shows every night.”
Brianna waits for a small crowd of people to move off the path, then takes off again, the battery whining under the strain as we pass through a lush jungle area. “You’ll need to learn the quickest route to get from the lobby to each of the buildings should a guest need anything and a porter not be available.” She points to the left. “Building B and C are attached with a walkway. That pool is adults only.”
“Nice,” I say, craning my neck to see if I can spot any bathing beauties.
I swear my supervisor must know what I’m doing because she swerves quickly, causing me to lose my balance. I grip the arm of the seat with one hand so I don’t fall out.
We quickly pass by several other restaurants, two enormous swimming pools that line the beach, as well as the beach bar at which I should be working. It looks like an absolute blast, with Bob Marley playing from the speakers, and even some swings on one side for patrons. The bartender, a woman in her thirties, doesn’t appear to be having any fun at all really. That barneedsme.
The path runs along a long, pristine stretch of beach leading to the crystal-clear-blue water that laps gently against the shore. A large dock waits for the catamarans that I know are out to sea. In the distance, I see a speedboat pulling someone who’s enjoying the view from a parasail. I watch, wishing I was the one floating in the air right now. I suddenly realize Brianna has been talking this entire time, and I haven’t heard a word.
“…Take orders from me as well as the reception desk because most people phone them if they’ve forgotten a toothbrush or other toiletries, etc. As a bellboy, your main job is to help with their luggage, of course.” She pauses and gives me the once-over. “You look like you’ve stayed in your fair share of hotels.”
What exactly does that mean? “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”
“Excellent, so you should understand the concept. When the guests arrive, they line up at the reception desk to check in. They usually arrive in big groups, having all taken the same shuttle bus from the airport. They’re almost always tired after having had a long trip.” She takes a sharp turn, and we’re headed away from the sea and toward the other guest buildings. I see the Brazilian Steakhouse where Emma works, and I find myself wondering if she may have a job as a host or some such. Anything but a bellboy.
Brianna continues pointing while she weaves in and out of throngs of meandering tourists. “Building C. The main buffet is attached to it, right there. We normally stick young couples and groups of singletons in C, so that’s where you’re going to get calls for condoms and such. We have them in the back closet behind the concierge desk. They are to be brought in a small paper bag. You knock gently at the door and leave before they open it so as to avoid any embarrassment.”
“Duly noted.” Or I could hang around and see if maybe there’s a third wheel in the form of a cute female in need of some company. Or not, since I’ve signed a contract that states no one may ride the Leopole for half a freaking year.
Before I know it, we’ve passed by a mini-golf course, some lovely tropical gardens, and some tennis courts, and we’re making our way around to the parking stalls next to the lobby again.
I follow Brianna as she hurries up the steps much faster than someone of her height should be able to move. Especially someone in heels and a skirt. I rush to catch up, trying very hard not to focus on her curvy legs. They look smooth and highly touchable, not that I should notice.
She spins around when she reaches the top of the five steps into the lobby, her cheeks red, her skin glowing. I’m temporarily struck by how lovely those deep-brown eyes are of hers. She has lashes for days. And they look real.
“Your job is to notice if anyone is struggling with their baggage and to offer to put it on one of these luggage carts,” she says, pointing to the carts that are lined up against the wall behind us. “When they’ve checked in, you help them get outside and load their things on a golf cart for the ride to their building. The quicker we clear the lobby, the better. When it gets too full of luggage and people, it makes us seem as though we’re not very efficient. Because we’re the first impression guests have of the resort, we need to be spot-on every time to avoid bad reviews on TripAdvisor.”
She continues on quickly, while I watch her full lips and try to concentrate on what she’s saying, because I know it’s probably key to my success, but dear Lord, she’s mesmerizing. “Most guests don’t want to think about the fact that there are other people on their vacation, so they’re happiest when they walk into a completely empty lobby. Obviously, this is not possible if a shuttle has just arrived, but our goal is to clear the lobby within fifteen minutes of each bus arriving. Anything more than that is too long for the guests. Watch for anything that will interrupt the flow of traffic through the lobby and fix it as quickly as possible. Understand so far?”
Not really. “Absolutely.” As in I’m absolutely attracted to my boss.
“We separate the guests into priority levels. The first category of priority guests are families with young children. They typically need the most help because they’ll have so much stuff with them—car seats that they needed on the shuttle, bags with life jackets and other flotation devices, toys, special blankets, that sort of thing. They typically look like they brought their entire house with them, and both parents are normally quite stressed upon arrival, and the typical state for a child after a lengthy day in an airplane is cranky and wired at the same time. The parents tend to unwittingly leave all of their luggage scattered about, so as soon as they walk in, grab a cart and go help them before they spread out and block all the exits.
“The second category of priority-one guests are senior citizens travelling alone. If they’re with younger family members, you can move them down to a priority-level two, especially if they’re travelling with hovering middle-age adults, because that age bracket is most likely to A) keep their luggage nice and tight in one spot, and B) instruct their parents to go sit down and relax for a few minutes while they’re at the desk. They’re very self-sufficient, so if you see middle-aged people, you can breathe easy, because they are low maintenance for the most part. So far, so clear?”
