Coming in contact with interesting guests is a daily occurrence in my hotel life. Everywhere I go I see people as guests, I can’t help it. After 20 years in the hospitality business it will happen that the career you have chosen catches up to you and all of a sudden it’s not just a job, it’s a lifestyle. I can not open a door for someone, it’s been ingrained in my world – I’ve been opening doors before my introduction to the hospitality world, my mother and father raised me with manners and if I didn’t say please or thank you, or open doors for people or give my seat up in the bus for my elders then I’d hear about it. In a way my childhood was preparing me for the hotel life.
Interesting guests get me through some pretty boring or bad days. All guests are equally important, but it’s the people who have a little something that I can see between the lines as they order their meal or as I check them in, or talk to them when making their reservation. My imagination and creativity pipes up and says ‘there’s a story here, what are they doing at the hotel, are they running from something? Meeting their secret lover? Have they lost someone or something?’ Working in a hotel feeds my people watching one hundred percent. These guests provide me with instant ideas for stories to be written.
I was serving two couples traveling together one night in the late 90’s, they were from somewhere in Texas and I had made small talk with them, made them laugh at my jokes, sold them expensive wine. When it came to desert time, one of the men told me he wanted plain old vanilla ice-cream. My reply was, you can have vanilla ice cream any day of the week, you’re here on top of this beautiful mountain hundreds of miles away from home, you can have our one of a kind strawberry flambe and have a story to tell your friends later about the big flame I’m going to show you when I add that liquor to the strawberries. The table looked at me and then their friend, I guess I didn’t know when he wanted something he usually got what he wanted. His remark back, Miss Ann (because people use to think Ann was my last name) you sold me and if you can do that you can sell anything, if you ever want to leave Canada, come see me. He handed me his business card, he was the owner of a few used car lots. Me, selling used cars? Very interesting indeed.
Until next time, keep on typing. . . .