For the past six months, my youngest has played an ongoing and elaborate game of “Hotel.” The living room is the lobby and all other rooms are guest rooms. She is extremely proud of her impressive collection of assorted, actual, old hotel key cards, which she distributes to all family members and playmates upon “check in,” which occurs multiple times per guest whenever anyone is anywhere near the front desk/coffee table. She bickers viciously with her sister over management responsibilities — most days they end up as “co-managers,” but now and again, I’ll find a carefully designed business card or nameplate declaring one employee or the other as “THE ONLY Hotel Manager.”
The hospitality business is not for wimps.
Recently, I received this notice in my guest room mailbox, which is to say, it was under my pillow.
I am confronted with several important issues.
1) I’m worried! I can’t stand it!
2) I’m not sure I have ever stayed at a hotel where guests are required to attend staff meetings
3) The letter’s air of mystery reminds me of this movie, which I must find and rent now, since I haven’t seen it in 30 years, which forces me to confront my geezer status
4) WHAT is the meding about, dammit??!!
5) When I check out, how much should I tip?
NEXT DAY UPDATE: There was no meding. 3:30 came and went. I am still in suspense, and sweating a little. This kid is good.
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