The soliciting couple at the door: A couple came to my door, apparently soliciting faith based doctrine. We exchanged the usual pleasantries as they handed me a colorful pamphlet. I glanced at the picture driven handout and noticed an image of Adam and Eve. The questions quickly popped into my head, so I asked the couple. Why would Adam and Eve have 'belly buttons' and also what would be the purpose of Adam having nipples?
Well after a couple of interactions like that, the seemingly amicable conversation went south quickly. The pamphlet was ripped from my hands and all I saw was their backsides leaving. At the time I thought these were provocative questions.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Dumber Technology?
This amazing technology of today came with the promise of progress and ingenuity yet has only given us nothing but imbecility and instant gratification. The Internet was suppose to gain quantum steps in freedom of expression yet has only brought 24 day access to contorted sexuality in the form of bestiality, necrophilia, and kiddie porn. It has brought death to the newspaper printer and printing industries, used as a tool of intimidation with images of beheading and other cruelty to a world wide audience. The teenager that posts his neighbors DUI mug shot on YouTube to the tune of LL Cool J's “I'm Going to Knock You Out” for snitching on him.
Technology has taken us from being stupid to dumber. People don't write anymore they “blog”, text instead of talking, no punctuation, no grammar, LOL this, LMFAO, TTYL that, really? WTF? It seems like we're a bunch of stupid people pseudo communicating in some distorted run by night linguistical proto-language with a semblance of a grunting neanderthal instead of the Kings English. Even worse it's now used in Castilian forums and e-communications as well, “Tu sabes que TQM”, unscrupulous. It's now become a global conundrum.
Moreover, I'm now afraid to jog on the road much less ride my Schwinn. The thought of some 16 year old girl named Chelsea driving her daddy's penile implant on gold rims 'texting' at 15 words a minute with a thumb, swerving and sending me and the Schwinn into orbit, as I hope to land in the murky waters of a Florida lake, instead I would most likely land in the driveway of a retiree's well cared for 1992 Chevy Caprice 4-door station wagon. Little Chelsea's first instinct would be to send a group text to all her friends, “OMG!” before calling 911, even then the thought would cross her mind that texting 911 would be much faster than calling.
Now don't get me wrong I don't want to sound fastidious on the issue. I'm not an analog trying to live in a digital world. I do believe in progress of technology but with the respect of proper etiquette. If this continues we're going to have a new breed of illiteracy, where kids will express themselves in pseudo 'acronymic' literature and not be able to write a simple cover letter for a job. They'll have to be unlearned and reeducated to use the English language or whatever native language, properly. So much for the evolution of linguistics. And I know I've been there with the best of them blogging and “texting”, hence my self loathing.
Technology has taken us from being stupid to dumber. People don't write anymore they “blog”, text instead of talking, no punctuation, no grammar, LOL this, LMFAO, TTYL that, really? WTF? It seems like we're a bunch of stupid people pseudo communicating in some distorted run by night linguistical proto-language with a semblance of a grunting neanderthal instead of the Kings English. Even worse it's now used in Castilian forums and e-communications as well, “Tu sabes que TQM”, unscrupulous. It's now become a global conundrum.
Moreover, I'm now afraid to jog on the road much less ride my Schwinn. The thought of some 16 year old girl named Chelsea driving her daddy's penile implant on gold rims 'texting' at 15 words a minute with a thumb, swerving and sending me and the Schwinn into orbit, as I hope to land in the murky waters of a Florida lake, instead I would most likely land in the driveway of a retiree's well cared for 1992 Chevy Caprice 4-door station wagon. Little Chelsea's first instinct would be to send a group text to all her friends, “OMG!” before calling 911, even then the thought would cross her mind that texting 911 would be much faster than calling.
Now don't get me wrong I don't want to sound fastidious on the issue. I'm not an analog trying to live in a digital world. I do believe in progress of technology but with the respect of proper etiquette. If this continues we're going to have a new breed of illiteracy, where kids will express themselves in pseudo 'acronymic' literature and not be able to write a simple cover letter for a job. They'll have to be unlearned and reeducated to use the English language or whatever native language, properly. So much for the evolution of linguistics. And I know I've been there with the best of them blogging and “texting”, hence my self loathing.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
60 Minutes in Sixty Seconds
Blog entry: Setting August 1993, The Westin ANA Washington D.C
It's 5:45AM as the monotonous droning alarm pierces me back to consciousness. A shower, sport the dark gray suit and off into the cool overcast of this August morning, a cinnamon croissant a coffee at Mister Donut and across Wilson Blvd to catch the subway. Down into the cement cocoon shaped subterranean where the bustle of business suits form along the tracks of the approaching trains. Fifteen minutes later I arrive at the Foggy Bottom Metro station, the scenery is different the crowd is of college students from the nearby George Washington University, a few city blocks I arrive at the Westin ANA Hotel on 22nd and M streets to start a 12 hour shift. I begin to put on the armor in the form of a two-way, wire myself with an ear piece and mic, make the checks, “MOD radio check”,
“Base, loud and clear”.
“Security one and two check”
“Engineer one check”.
I make the rounds, Front Desk, Restaurants, Housekeeping, Room Service, the main lobby. Staff in place, checklists being completed, all seems well. I review all the VIP arrivals for the day and begin room inspections. It's approximately 8:30AM and a call comes in my ear piece, “Base to MOD”
“Go for MOD”
“You're requested at the Front Desk”
“Ten-Four”.
I'm thinking problems so early? From the room I was inspecting I dial the Front Desk extension. “Good morning Front Desk this is”....”Pepina it's Josh what's up?”
“There is a lady here that will only speak to a manager and she's not a guest”
“OK, I'll be down in a couple of minutes”
The elevator arrives to the lobby level, as I walk to the front desk I see a lady standing there in a very upscale professional, yet conservative business suit, almost a dress code for this city. As I approximate her I greet her.
“Hello” and before I can get another word out she says:
“Are you the manager”
“Why, yes I am”
“I'm Julie Penn from CBS News, Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes is checking in tomorrow and I need to make sure this package gets in his hands”
She was assertive, aggressive and on top of it all attractive. I notice her badge and picture, looked official.
“I'll make sure he gets this”
She looks at my name tag
“Joshua Giron?”
“Yes”
She hands me the package, she finally breaks the stern expression enough to smile as she departs.
Hotel procedures have all packages go through the security office, but in this case I wasn't going to redirect this CBS employee to the 'back of the house' crevices for what seemed as a high profile delivery. In any case I deemed it appropriate to run it through security. I get to the security counter and there are two of security's best.
“Hey guys had to take this package at the front desk from the CBS Washington office”
Security supervisor, Robert tells Bob “Just log it in and note that it was taken by the manager”.
Then Bob had to add his 'two cents'.
“All packages should come through Security”
He points at me with a big grin.“But you're the man!” He releases a laugh that of a choking donkey, as the veins in his temples protruded.
“Thanks Bob, you're the man!”
I'm thinking these guys don't have an iota of equipment to scan detect any packages so what's the use, I guess at least initial liability would fall on their court in normal circumstances.
I head to my office and get in the H.I.S system, our DOS database system, I find two rooms reserved for Mike Wallace checking in tomorrow, connecting rooms 533 and 534, one king size bed the other with two queen beds. I 'flag' the reservations indicating a package in the room and instruct not to move the reserved blocks, all which are to be strictly adhered to. I place the package in room 533 and place it on the night stand by the king bed. While there I decide to do a quick inspection of the room, even though it's tomorrow's morning managers duty to inspect. The Yaletronics electronic door locks functional, I check the telephone, a healthy dial tone, check the TV remote control, in working order, mini bar sealed, check the bathroom clean, no hairs in the sink, tub, floor, toilet and the ceiling, bed clock with correct time no alarm set. Check for dust, smudges prints on mirrors and windows, things seem in order.
The next day I went for a walk through idyllic neighborhoods of Arlington, Virginia, reading the paper with a coffee enjoying the first breezes of the distant autumn. Grateful that it is going to be an eight hour day. I reach my sister Gina's condo. My nephew Keith was up after a long night at the restaurant job, he greets me..
”Hey bro what'r you up to, hey you got messages on the answering machine from your job”
“Oh yeah?”
“They said it was urgent”
Initially I was surprised, I call in and asked for my counter part, Shana.
“Hey Shana, it's Josh, did you call, someone call for me?”
“Yes, we're vwery vworried that vwe cannot find a package that you received from CBS...for Mike vWallace”
She sounded panicky in her Hindu accent.
“CBS has been calling and asking for you”
I answer the obvious.
“I placed the package in his room”
“He checked in this morning and says there's nothing there, and they claim that it is going to cost $3,000.00 to fly another copy of the book on a Lear jet from Los Angeles”
“You're kidding me, right?”
“No, Josh, they vwant you to call them”
“Crap, alright, I'm getting dressed and going in now”
I hang up thinking how can something so simple get messed up, every thing is properly logged. I could just release myself of the responsibility since I followed all the established procedures and let my partner figure it out, but my gut feel is that it's my fiduciary duty to go in early and investige.
I look to Keith and say
“I gotta go in to work”
“You need a ride?”
“No it's OK, I'll just jump on the orange line at Court House Metro”
Keith insists.
“No bro, I can take you, no sweat, it's just across the bridge”
“Cool, I appreciate it”
We drive through Roslyn across Key Bridge, the scene on the Potomac, a rowing team in perfect synchronization, in the distance the Watergate Hotel, Kennedy Center and an incisive Washington Monument piercing the light blue skyline.
Keith drops me off at the side alley of M street, as I enter the employee entrance I slip on my jacket and make a Bee line towards the Directors office moving quickly tightening my tie on the way. Mrs. V is there at her desk, we call her the “Iron Lady”, because of her rigidness and seemingly tough character. She greets me with her marked British accent.
“Joshua you are here”
“Yes Pat, I understand there is a crisis with the Mike Wallace package, so I've come to find out what is going on”
“Of course, now the hotels public relations office is getting involved, those people at CBS have been calling constantly, they're driving us up the walls”
Anxiously, I interrupt the conversation wanting to jump on this situation.
“Pat, I'm going to go and get on this”
“Yes, I will be leaving for the day, let me know the outcome”
Yes of course, this Director is out of her league in this department and she has all her cronies trying to run this, no wonder things get screwed up. A couple of years ago we had a great team here with all the Ricks, Jens, and Lou's, now it's a mere shell of those days.
I meet Shana, in the back office and she gives me a look of concern. I ask her to give me the VIP print out, as we look at it together I see that he Wallace' only has one room reserved.
“Shana he had two rooms why is there only one now?”
“I don't know we got him in room 534”
“Let me check the 'bucket' file”
I walk out to the front desk and greet the front desk agents, when I hear this voice thunder unabashedly.
“Who is Joshua!”
The voice reverberated through the high ceilings of the lobby atrium. The desk agents and concierge look up from their busy paperwork. As I focus down the hall I see a man rapidly approaching the front desk, his walk was stiff legged, reminded me of my father. As he closes in I see it's Mike Wallace and he looks irate.
“Ah shit, impromptu time!”
Little Peppina ,the desk agent scurries behind me and under her nervous Norwegian accent says.
“Good luck with that Mr. Josh”
OK, calm demeanor, look concerned, but be debonair and get your lingo in gear. I walk out to meet him halfway, I stretch out my hand and say.
“I'm Joshua Giron”
He reluctantly shakes my hand and asks;
“Where is my package, my office said it was turned in to you and you have 60 seconds to produce it!”
I'm saying to myself 60 seconds, are you kidding? What happened to 60 Minutes? My internal comic relief kicking in.
“Mr. Wallace, I did receive your package and had placed it on your night stand in your room”
“There's nothing in my room no one here knows where it is!”
“Perhaps you would allow me to walk with you there to your room?”
“OK, let's go”
The walk to the elevator, then the ride in the elevator was quite awkward, producing small talk in a tense situation is an arduous task.
“How was your flight?”
“Fine, you know what will happen if I don't get that package?”
I nod in agreement and continue to hold my composure.“I can only imagine, Sir, but I'm confident there must be some mistake”
He continued, “The mistake is you people lost my package!”
OK, now my look of empathy. We arrive at the room and I see it's only 534 the room with the two queen beds. I open his door with my master key as we walk in I say.
“Mr. Wallace your office reserved two rooms, the connecting room is yours as well”
I open the connecting room 533 and there low and behold is the package on the night stand, I hand it to him, he takes out his reading glasses and hastily rips the package open, and inside a book, he briefs through it and says “This is it”
He looks over his reading glasses at me. “You lucked out Joshua”
A pleasant smile on the outside a devilish grin on the inside.
“Yes I did Sir, I apologize for the situation, they should have checked you in this room, it has the king size bed. Would you like for me to arrange for your luggage to be moved to this room?”
His tone completely changed, in a much calmer voice.
“I'll stay where I am, the second room is for my wife, I don't know if she is coming tomorrow or at all”
“Ah, I see, well we'll hold the room in case she decides to arrive, again my sincerest apologies for the miscommunication, may I be of any other service to you Mr. Wallace?”
“No, thank you”
“Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything”.
We part company. Now comes damage control, I walk knowing, thinking that the fact is that we received a package and we did not deliver on a timely basis. Justification is necessary to all the internal parties. As I do research I run across the culpable cause. Apparently a change of check in date was made through a national reservation system (Weston) that interfaces with our hotel system. A date of arrival was changed and the system arbitrarily selects a room to be changed without regard to the type. Therefore, the change that caused the errors go undetected. This is when human rudimentary supervision should kick in, as it did not with my counterpart.
A careful documentation in the hotel log book is entered in detail of the incident without editorilization, complete objectivity directs the cause to the technical and not to the human. All appropriate voice mails are recorded and explaining, a call to Pat. Leave no pathways to open forums and set closure.
Phase two now, is my guest still filled with ominous thoughts? Can I rectify with proper gestures? Possibly, nonetheless necessary. A Deluxe Fruit Basket to the room with turndown service and chocolates. Notify the F&B departments to inform me if Mike Wallace visits any of our outlets. Soon enough the call comes through the airwaves in my ear.
“R1 to MOD”
“Go ahead”
“Your party is here, you wanted to know, right?”
“Yes, thanks, I'll call you on a hardline”
I call the Bistro and ask Karl, the Bistro manager, how many are in his party? He replies“There's eight”
“Holy Maximus! I have to comp something cause we really screwed something up, I'll get with you”.
I know that paying for their meals is of no value since he just may write it off to CBS or turn in and expense report. From the back office I slip on my jacket and head to the Bistro. I see the gathering of what seemed like Mike Wallace and his crew, a round table that included his producer Lowell Bergman. Mike Wallace spots me and in a very candid tone says.“There's Joshua. Whats this?”, as he points at his ear, a reference to my ear piece.
“Are you connected with the secret service?”, the crew burst into laughter. Lowell Bergman cuts in and says. “He's got people talking to him now”, more laughter. I'm thinking, well if heckling is a way to make amends, so be it. I smile and nod.
“Mr. Wallace would you allow me to buy a bottle of wine for the inconvenience earlier?”
He gestures no, then seemingly a change of mind.“OK, yeah, these guys will drink it” pointing to his group around the table.
“Very well”
I meet with Karl. We discuss that their entrees were of mostly beef and red meat.
I ask Karl, “Will you please have them served a bottle of red wine”
Karl, “No problem”
I sign the check A/G for 'account gratuitous', on the house. This should seal the deal.
A long day again and it's now late, and I don't want to run and catch the subway home. I turn over all gear and the day's events to the night manager, Mark Anderson. I have extra suits in the luggage room I'll just stay here tonight. I enter my room, undress, I fall back on the king bed, exhausted, another day, a sense of accomplishment...my mind fills with thoughts of my kids in Florida. A cold Heineken from the honor bar the transition from consciousness to slumber on the sounds of Headline News.
It's 5:45AM as the monotonous droning alarm pierces me back to consciousness. A shower, sport the dark gray suit and off into the cool overcast of this August morning, a cinnamon croissant a coffee at Mister Donut and across Wilson Blvd to catch the subway. Down into the cement cocoon shaped subterranean where the bustle of business suits form along the tracks of the approaching trains. Fifteen minutes later I arrive at the Foggy Bottom Metro station, the scenery is different the crowd is of college students from the nearby George Washington University, a few city blocks I arrive at the Westin ANA Hotel on 22nd and M streets to start a 12 hour shift. I begin to put on the armor in the form of a two-way, wire myself with an ear piece and mic, make the checks, “MOD radio check”,
“Base, loud and clear”.
“Security one and two check”
“Engineer one check”.
I make the rounds, Front Desk, Restaurants, Housekeeping, Room Service, the main lobby. Staff in place, checklists being completed, all seems well. I review all the VIP arrivals for the day and begin room inspections. It's approximately 8:30AM and a call comes in my ear piece, “Base to MOD”
“Go for MOD”
“You're requested at the Front Desk”
“Ten-Four”.
I'm thinking problems so early? From the room I was inspecting I dial the Front Desk extension. “Good morning Front Desk this is”....”Pepina it's Josh what's up?”
“There is a lady here that will only speak to a manager and she's not a guest”
“OK, I'll be down in a couple of minutes”
The elevator arrives to the lobby level, as I walk to the front desk I see a lady standing there in a very upscale professional, yet conservative business suit, almost a dress code for this city. As I approximate her I greet her.
“Hello” and before I can get another word out she says:
“Are you the manager”
“Why, yes I am”
“I'm Julie Penn from CBS News, Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes is checking in tomorrow and I need to make sure this package gets in his hands”
She was assertive, aggressive and on top of it all attractive. I notice her badge and picture, looked official.
“I'll make sure he gets this”
She looks at my name tag
“Joshua Giron?”
“Yes”
She hands me the package, she finally breaks the stern expression enough to smile as she departs.
Hotel procedures have all packages go through the security office, but in this case I wasn't going to redirect this CBS employee to the 'back of the house' crevices for what seemed as a high profile delivery. In any case I deemed it appropriate to run it through security. I get to the security counter and there are two of security's best.
“Hey guys had to take this package at the front desk from the CBS Washington office”
Security supervisor, Robert tells Bob “Just log it in and note that it was taken by the manager”.
Then Bob had to add his 'two cents'.
“All packages should come through Security”
He points at me with a big grin.“But you're the man!” He releases a laugh that of a choking donkey, as the veins in his temples protruded.
“Thanks Bob, you're the man!”
I'm thinking these guys don't have an iota of equipment to scan detect any packages so what's the use, I guess at least initial liability would fall on their court in normal circumstances.
I head to my office and get in the H.I.S system, our DOS database system, I find two rooms reserved for Mike Wallace checking in tomorrow, connecting rooms 533 and 534, one king size bed the other with two queen beds. I 'flag' the reservations indicating a package in the room and instruct not to move the reserved blocks, all which are to be strictly adhered to. I place the package in room 533 and place it on the night stand by the king bed. While there I decide to do a quick inspection of the room, even though it's tomorrow's morning managers duty to inspect. The Yaletronics electronic door locks functional, I check the telephone, a healthy dial tone, check the TV remote control, in working order, mini bar sealed, check the bathroom clean, no hairs in the sink, tub, floor, toilet and the ceiling, bed clock with correct time no alarm set. Check for dust, smudges prints on mirrors and windows, things seem in order.
The next day I went for a walk through idyllic neighborhoods of Arlington, Virginia, reading the paper with a coffee enjoying the first breezes of the distant autumn. Grateful that it is going to be an eight hour day. I reach my sister Gina's condo. My nephew Keith was up after a long night at the restaurant job, he greets me..
”Hey bro what'r you up to, hey you got messages on the answering machine from your job”
“Oh yeah?”
“They said it was urgent”
Initially I was surprised, I call in and asked for my counter part, Shana.
“Hey Shana, it's Josh, did you call, someone call for me?”
“Yes, we're vwery vworried that vwe cannot find a package that you received from CBS...for Mike vWallace”
She sounded panicky in her Hindu accent.
“CBS has been calling and asking for you”
I answer the obvious.
“I placed the package in his room”
“He checked in this morning and says there's nothing there, and they claim that it is going to cost $3,000.00 to fly another copy of the book on a Lear jet from Los Angeles”
“You're kidding me, right?”
“No, Josh, they vwant you to call them”
“Crap, alright, I'm getting dressed and going in now”
I hang up thinking how can something so simple get messed up, every thing is properly logged. I could just release myself of the responsibility since I followed all the established procedures and let my partner figure it out, but my gut feel is that it's my fiduciary duty to go in early and investige.
I look to Keith and say
“I gotta go in to work”
“You need a ride?”
“No it's OK, I'll just jump on the orange line at Court House Metro”
Keith insists.
“No bro, I can take you, no sweat, it's just across the bridge”
“Cool, I appreciate it”
We drive through Roslyn across Key Bridge, the scene on the Potomac, a rowing team in perfect synchronization, in the distance the Watergate Hotel, Kennedy Center and an incisive Washington Monument piercing the light blue skyline.
Keith drops me off at the side alley of M street, as I enter the employee entrance I slip on my jacket and make a Bee line towards the Directors office moving quickly tightening my tie on the way. Mrs. V is there at her desk, we call her the “Iron Lady”, because of her rigidness and seemingly tough character. She greets me with her marked British accent.
“Joshua you are here”
“Yes Pat, I understand there is a crisis with the Mike Wallace package, so I've come to find out what is going on”
“Of course, now the hotels public relations office is getting involved, those people at CBS have been calling constantly, they're driving us up the walls”
Anxiously, I interrupt the conversation wanting to jump on this situation.
“Pat, I'm going to go and get on this”
“Yes, I will be leaving for the day, let me know the outcome”
Yes of course, this Director is out of her league in this department and she has all her cronies trying to run this, no wonder things get screwed up. A couple of years ago we had a great team here with all the Ricks, Jens, and Lou's, now it's a mere shell of those days.
I meet Shana, in the back office and she gives me a look of concern. I ask her to give me the VIP print out, as we look at it together I see that he Wallace' only has one room reserved.
“Shana he had two rooms why is there only one now?”
“I don't know we got him in room 534”
“Let me check the 'bucket' file”
I walk out to the front desk and greet the front desk agents, when I hear this voice thunder unabashedly.
“Who is Joshua!”
The voice reverberated through the high ceilings of the lobby atrium. The desk agents and concierge look up from their busy paperwork. As I focus down the hall I see a man rapidly approaching the front desk, his walk was stiff legged, reminded me of my father. As he closes in I see it's Mike Wallace and he looks irate.
“Ah shit, impromptu time!”
Little Peppina ,the desk agent scurries behind me and under her nervous Norwegian accent says.
“Good luck with that Mr. Josh”
OK, calm demeanor, look concerned, but be debonair and get your lingo in gear. I walk out to meet him halfway, I stretch out my hand and say.
“I'm Joshua Giron”
He reluctantly shakes my hand and asks;
“Where is my package, my office said it was turned in to you and you have 60 seconds to produce it!”
I'm saying to myself 60 seconds, are you kidding? What happened to 60 Minutes? My internal comic relief kicking in.
“Mr. Wallace, I did receive your package and had placed it on your night stand in your room”
“There's nothing in my room no one here knows where it is!”
“Perhaps you would allow me to walk with you there to your room?”
“OK, let's go”
The walk to the elevator, then the ride in the elevator was quite awkward, producing small talk in a tense situation is an arduous task.
“How was your flight?”
“Fine, you know what will happen if I don't get that package?”
I nod in agreement and continue to hold my composure.“I can only imagine, Sir, but I'm confident there must be some mistake”
He continued, “The mistake is you people lost my package!”
OK, now my look of empathy. We arrive at the room and I see it's only 534 the room with the two queen beds. I open his door with my master key as we walk in I say.
“Mr. Wallace your office reserved two rooms, the connecting room is yours as well”
I open the connecting room 533 and there low and behold is the package on the night stand, I hand it to him, he takes out his reading glasses and hastily rips the package open, and inside a book, he briefs through it and says “This is it”
He looks over his reading glasses at me. “You lucked out Joshua”
A pleasant smile on the outside a devilish grin on the inside.
“Yes I did Sir, I apologize for the situation, they should have checked you in this room, it has the king size bed. Would you like for me to arrange for your luggage to be moved to this room?”
His tone completely changed, in a much calmer voice.
“I'll stay where I am, the second room is for my wife, I don't know if she is coming tomorrow or at all”
“Ah, I see, well we'll hold the room in case she decides to arrive, again my sincerest apologies for the miscommunication, may I be of any other service to you Mr. Wallace?”
“No, thank you”
“Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything”.
We part company. Now comes damage control, I walk knowing, thinking that the fact is that we received a package and we did not deliver on a timely basis. Justification is necessary to all the internal parties. As I do research I run across the culpable cause. Apparently a change of check in date was made through a national reservation system (Weston) that interfaces with our hotel system. A date of arrival was changed and the system arbitrarily selects a room to be changed without regard to the type. Therefore, the change that caused the errors go undetected. This is when human rudimentary supervision should kick in, as it did not with my counterpart.
A careful documentation in the hotel log book is entered in detail of the incident without editorilization, complete objectivity directs the cause to the technical and not to the human. All appropriate voice mails are recorded and explaining, a call to Pat. Leave no pathways to open forums and set closure.
Phase two now, is my guest still filled with ominous thoughts? Can I rectify with proper gestures? Possibly, nonetheless necessary. A Deluxe Fruit Basket to the room with turndown service and chocolates. Notify the F&B departments to inform me if Mike Wallace visits any of our outlets. Soon enough the call comes through the airwaves in my ear.
“R1 to MOD”
“Go ahead”
“Your party is here, you wanted to know, right?”
“Yes, thanks, I'll call you on a hardline”
I call the Bistro and ask Karl, the Bistro manager, how many are in his party? He replies“There's eight”
“Holy Maximus! I have to comp something cause we really screwed something up, I'll get with you”.
I know that paying for their meals is of no value since he just may write it off to CBS or turn in and expense report. From the back office I slip on my jacket and head to the Bistro. I see the gathering of what seemed like Mike Wallace and his crew, a round table that included his producer Lowell Bergman. Mike Wallace spots me and in a very candid tone says.“There's Joshua. Whats this?”, as he points at his ear, a reference to my ear piece.
“Are you connected with the secret service?”, the crew burst into laughter. Lowell Bergman cuts in and says. “He's got people talking to him now”, more laughter. I'm thinking, well if heckling is a way to make amends, so be it. I smile and nod.
“Mr. Wallace would you allow me to buy a bottle of wine for the inconvenience earlier?”
He gestures no, then seemingly a change of mind.“OK, yeah, these guys will drink it” pointing to his group around the table.
“Very well”
I meet with Karl. We discuss that their entrees were of mostly beef and red meat.
I ask Karl, “Will you please have them served a bottle of red wine”
Karl, “No problem”
I sign the check A/G for 'account gratuitous', on the house. This should seal the deal.
A long day again and it's now late, and I don't want to run and catch the subway home. I turn over all gear and the day's events to the night manager, Mark Anderson. I have extra suits in the luggage room I'll just stay here tonight. I enter my room, undress, I fall back on the king bed, exhausted, another day, a sense of accomplishment...my mind fills with thoughts of my kids in Florida. A cold Heineken from the honor bar the transition from consciousness to slumber on the sounds of Headline News.
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