I check my watch as I enter the elevator and join the elderly couple already descending. No suitcases means they’re not departing or arriving, so they’ve stayed here for at least a night.
“How was your evening?” I ask.
The man answers me. “Excellent as always.”
“Ah, you stay here often.”
“Whenever we’re in the city. It’s the best, and affordable.”
Certainly not affordable for many people in the country, but best it is. I reach into my pocket and hand the couple my card. “Do let me know if there’s anything you need.”
The lady takes it and glances down. “Oh, how nice. Roger, this is the owner.”
Roger and I shake hands as the elevator reaches the lobby, and I check my watch. One minute behind my routine. I practically run to the front desk, checking my watch when I make it. Almost back to normal for the day.
“Good morning, Mr. Hellway,” Daniel greets me with a smile that lights up the already well-lit lobby. The HR hires nice people who smile wide and take a nice paycheck. The happiness of staffis a priority. Nobody wants to check in or work with people who forgot how to smile. No, thank you. Grouches and gaslighters will find work elsewhere.
I keep it polite and friendly. “How is Freddy?” I ask about his husband, who came out of knee surgery yesterday. After all, cared-for staff makes my possession (the hotel) more valuable.
“He’s doing better. Thank you for the flowers.”
I nod. “Anything for me?”
“Packages and letters only, and I already sent the new boy”—Daniel wags his eyebrows to tell me what he thinks of the new hire I haven’t met yet—“to Aisha.”
“Complaints?”
“Also with Aisha.”
“I love working with you. Did I ever mention that?”
He swats my shoulder. “Stop it.”
I knock my knuckles on the front desk and bid him goodbye. With no extra developments this morning, I’ve made up my jerk-off time, and, right on the second of my routine, I head for the coffee shop. Not the one shop most guests use although I do sit in that one sometimes and make notes of what people say about the hotel or the city so I can best improve my services.
Pleasing people is my jam. Pleased people pay and return as customers, eventually becoming loyal. Delivering predictably great service is imperative to my business model, or any healthy business that thrives in my not-so-humble opinion.
I’m checking the emails as I wait in line for the coffee, greeting whichever employee glances my way as they rush to do more important things related to their job. I’m doing all the things I normally do, so when I arrive at the counter, I get thrown right off my routine.
Completely off my axis.
On the other side of the counter is Vanessa.
“What would you like, sir?” she asks with a smile, and there’s a few seconds’ pause while her brain processes, and her face shows recognition as my image passes from the ocular to the brain, then becomes evident in the widening of her eyes.
She freezes, and so do I. Smiling, I tuck my phone in my pocket. I was just opening the email that will tell me most of the things I need to know about her, which I intended to read this morning with my coffee.
I check her name tag.Vanessa.Didn’t lie about her name.
“Daily brew,” I order. “Bold and black. A splash of vanilla. Ham and cheese croissant.” I pick up mints from the counter. “Mints too.”
Vanessa shakes her head as if recovering from a bad dream where I stand here in my hotel and she is my employee. Technically, not my employee since this is a privately owned coffee shop, but still, she works in my hotel and had no clue.
Had she had a clue, she wouldn’t be so surprised to see me here and also wouldn’t have lied about being a kindergarten teacher.
“Here or to go?” she stammers.
“Here.” Definitely here.
