Hotel @ MindSay

Open up the doors and let the music play

Let the streets resound in singing

Songs that bring your hope

Songs that bring your joy

Dancers who dance apon injustice

sam213: GOODNESS GRACIOUS
sam213: have i got jesus in my heart todayyy

^ I heart that girl. the only 19 year old as me thats on fire for Christ in my town. Without each other i dont know where we'd be right now without lifting each other up in prayer during college.

You know whats insane. I may possibly be able to pay off my college tuition in a week of work. Yes. Its true.  I started working 2 jobs now.  Well, more like 3 different jobs. Getting 3 different wages.  Its crazy.  Today i worked all morning and ran to work at the other place in the afternoon.  I'm willing to do ANYTHING to go back to college.  So, yeah.  I'm keeping track hours I've been working and I'll be working a little over 40 hours in a week.  You think i'm crazy? Yeah. Cause I am.  This lady at the hotel i've been working with is gonna try to talk my boss into paying me $8/hour this summer instead of mimimum wage cause cleaning hotel rooms is alot of work.  So, I had one insane day!!!! Good thing I've already planned out my week and I only have to run from one place to the other only this wednesday!! Now i just gotta write down my schedule this week so I dont lose it so i know what i'm doing so i'll just put it on my mindsay  just incase i lose my paper i have hanging around.  I'm even working at the desk at the hotel on thursday until about 12 midnight isnt that insane.  thats a ton of hours just doing that! ahhhhh!!!

Monday- hotel all day

Tuesday- hotel all day

Wednesday- hotel 9am-1pm   Resturant- 2pm-?

Thursday- hotel all day and all night. erm. phone calls much appreciated.

Friday- Resturant 10am-? chocolate cottage 4pm-10pm

Saturday- Resturant 10am-? chocolate cottage 3pm-10pm

Sunday- Resturant 10am-? then maybe work at chocolate cottage if its busy.

For some reason, I decided to wear a nice dress to work today. It's red with white polka-dots and I had a pair of cute little red shoes on to match. I knew I'd just have to change out of it when I got there, but I felt like being a girl, so I dressed up a little. Who would have guessed that today was the perfect day to dress up.

I got to work got changed into my suit, went upstairs and was asked by my manager whether I'd like to have dinner in the restaurant with a few other staff tonight (this isn't out of the ordinary, we're often invited to try new menus and wines, but not usually while on shift).

"Do you have something to wear?"

So I counted my float, handed over with my team and by the time I was on the desk it was time to go and get changed for dinner.

8 courses (each with a glass of wine especially chosen by the sommelier to match the food) which was 4 hours later, I changed back into my suit, cashed up my float changed back into my dress and went home. The funny thing was that they let me go home half an hour early because hadn't had a chance to take a break! This is a funny business.

LB

The room air felt cold as she walked out of the bath and she clutched the heavy robe to hold the warmth. The shower steam had filled the room and she had only draped his moist towel over her lap as she sat and applied moisturizer under her eyes . . . she thought about a mask but she knew she would have a busy day.

"You were up early and showered"  She said. He put down the phone, and was lying on the bed in his robe.

"I did that so it would be steamy and warm for you. I thought I might wake you, but you didn't move."  He reached for her robe and slid his hand around her waist pulling her firmly on to the bed. She scooted closer and felt his fingers on her belly then between her thighs. She settled under him as his kisses began on her tummy and held his head as his tongue went around her clit.   She gasped once and felt her legs being put over his shoulders. She put her arms around his neck and relaxed and opened herself as his cock fit nicely, till she felt him in her belly . . .

Tiny then bigger bites on his neck prompted him to return the favor to her nipples and she squirmed and giggled between breaths as he pushed into her cunt. He raised her hips again and twisted his hips into her, as she rode his cock. She tightened around him as he rubbed hard against her clit and held her breath with each thrust until she came . . . 

A sweet soreness began to burn and she felt her lips swell, even as wet as she was, she was tight around him . . . the soreness never lasted, not quite and she bit her lip as she felt her clit surge through her again. 

She closed her eyes and enjoyed laying against him with his slick cock on her belly and felt him run out between her legs.  Pushing him over on his back she stroked his cock softly and rubbed the slick between her fingers.  With his eyes closed she raised up and rubbed her nipples against his chest as she kissed him and drew away. He rolled on his side and pushed his face into their pillow.

She freshened up with the bidet and slipped on panties and a bra and finished dressing as he poured coffee and renewed his efforts to get dressed. She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet and laid bills of currency next to his coffee cup.

"What's that for?"   He pushed it away with his saucer and picked the coffee up to sip.

"You never have any. Face it, you're a kept man"  She smiled and pushed it back, fastened her skirt, zipped it and tucked in her blouse.

"Do you have time for breakfast? I'm buying."  He stood up and tried to reach for her but she smiled and turned away. She had packed her loose clothing the night before and finished with the valese, putting the last few things in before calling the bellman.

"I've got things to do now don't I?" She held a small notebook in her hand. As he finished dressing she checked his passport and put a few more currency bills in it.  Checked his travel bag and made sure nothing was left behind. She saw him out of the room and held him briefly again, just as the bellman arrived and removed two sets of luggage.

"Careful my love" She called out behind him as he walked down the hallway.

"Only an errand. It's set." He waved over his shoulder but then turned and they stood silently looking at each other until the door to the lift opened and he stepped from sight.

"I'm going ahead to the front desk. Please hand me the valese and check the luggage." He handed her the valese and her notebook and accepted her tip. She didn't want to go back into the room and thought she'd done well keeping her composure. Inside their room it had the fragrance of two days of warm distractions, dishes from a dinner ordered timelessly, and a bottle of wine that prompted promises in the dark . . .

She checked out at the desk, paid the charges and returned two keys that were never used once they shut the door behind them. "Your breakfast is being prepared Mamoseile." She looked at the Conserige. He held a note and she smiled.

"Merci. Please have the secretary join me. I have several telegrams to send . . . and arrange a driver to attend so we can make the train." She handed him the ticket and a tip as he escorted her to the diningroom and called for the hotel secretary.

She wasn't hungry until the waiter arrived with the hot bread. She smiled and took a large bite of bread and butter as the waiter set her napkin and poured tea. She smiled still chewing the bread as the secretary arrived with telegram pads. With the telegrams sent she had only moments before the driver arrived. The car was warm, she reached forward with a tip for the driver. He looked in the rearview mirror, and nodded and made straight for the station.

 She wanted to change her plans, but it wasn't possible and she worried about the 'errand'. Moments later the car door opened, the driver had her tickets and escorted her to the Porter and together placed her luggage in her compartment. The driver only smiled and touched the brim of his hat when she offered another tip.

She opened her note book and smiled at the note she found, an I.O.U. for the currency notes she'd left, and a promise she didn't think he could keep. 

(To be continued . . .)

Last week I went back to the Algonquin Hotel.  The visit is a periodic ritual.  The whole lobby is now a bar, I suppose because everybody who knows of the Algonquin Hotel wants to drink there.

     The usual gang wasn't there munching on celery stalks.  As often as I now go to the Algonquin, the usual gang has not been there.

     An unusual woman sits half way across the room from me drinking from a bottle labeled Poland Spring.  I  am drinking rum and Coke through a straw so I shouldn't compare our relative levels of sophistication. 

     I wish I were forty-one again when I would walk up to the reception desk and the clerk would say, "Hello, Mrs. Kaye - we are so happy to see you back" and I would put all those drinks on my expense account.  I was drinking gin then.

     But I am not forty-one and now the whole lobby is a bar and the golden cat is gone and people push baby strollers around the tables as they are seated in the soft green upholstered armchairs.  Everyone is clean shaven.  No, there is a man with a beard but he is sitting with the woman rocking the stroller so he doesn't really count.

     I love this hotel.  Every time I have come here I am able to pretend that I am one of them - waiting for my friends to join me. 

     They will come up to my little round table with its spindle legs and say, "Em, you are early.  You look so sad sitting here so alone."  They will call me "Em" because we are such intimates and my public, published name is on for hangers on.  To these, my friends, I am "Em."

     My train leaves in less than an hour.  When I was forty-one I merely took out my key and went to my room on the seventh floor.  Now I must rush to the Pennsylvania Station and hurry to New Jersey -- where I now stay with my daughter, who doesn't know Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley or Edna Ferber and doesn't drink gin and sleeps in a bedroom suite on the second floor of her million dollar house and isn't as happy as I.  I sleep in my imagination.

     The tone is so burnished inside the Algonquin.  So still.  Standing, throwing my coat over my shoulders, I spot a dusky Underwood typewriter on the window sill in the corner of the room.  An Underwood.  The spirits hover. 

     A man sits typing at a laptop next to the Underwood and sees my eyes light up.  "Yes, it's an original Underwood" he nods and goes on to tell me how his uncle bought up a warehouse full of Underwoods during the war and sold them to the Army.  Made a lot of money so he has a soft spot in his heart for Underwoods.  He wanted to give me his uncle's telephone number so I could contact him for paths to parts that my original Underwood needs and we decide together that the internet might be a better source.

     The waiter brings my check and asks if he can charge my room.  He thinks I am staying here.  I still look right.  I still belong.  I love this waiter.  I love this room.  I love this hotel.  I love this street.  I love this city.  And I look like I belong to it.  I tip him heavily.  Hell, I've just dropped a hundred for a seat in the Walter Kerr Theater, a ten for a rum.  What's another bunch of bills?  I am going home where there is no place to spend money.

So I'm back at work at the hotel after my 2 months off. When I was told about my promotion to the luxury club, I figured I'd get some training and then work my 2-3 days a week. I didn't think I'd be handed the keys on day one and manage the whole facility and it's staff (Hotel Management have more faith in my abilities than I realised . . .either that or they were desperate, probably a bit of both). It was fantastic! I did my two day's in club and was asked to cover shifts on the front desk for the rest of the week.

What a contrast! I adore both though, the relaxed club where I even get to sit down and the fast paced front desk where I'm juggling 12 tasks at a time all day.

I'd be happy to work in both areas of the hotel. Just not as many shifts as I've worked this week.

Overview of my week at the hotel:

• Opened my first bottle of $900 Champagne for a guests welcome drink in the club.
• Watched the aftermath of what happens when the clubs Wii and PS3 systems both get stolen on the same day- luckily I wasn't on shift when that happened.
• Checked a person in with a 19 letter surname
• Got undressed or dressed eight times each day: 1: undressed from Pjs in the morning 2: dressed in my civilian clothing 3: undressed at work 4: dressed in my hotel garb 5: undressed at the end of shift 6: dressed back in my civvies 7: undressed for the evening 8: dressed into my Pjs. . .next week I hope to be back at the gym so there will be even more where that came from. . .maybe I'll save the gym for my days off.
• Tripped over in the back of house dungeon, grazed my knees and bruised my legs all over. I look like a 5 year old after their first bike ride without training wheels.
• Got lost in the back of house dungeon, ended up in a fire escape and out on the street.
• I served my nemesis (again. . .she came into my previous hotel on new years eve last year), She is dating one of the Australian Cricket team members who were staying with us. She looked well, happier than the last time I saw her and I was pleased to see that. The experience was more pleasant than last time and I sent up a bottle of Champagne as a peace offering. She texted me the next day wanting to catch up next time I'm in Melbourne. . . I don't think I will. I'm happy to bump into her from time to time (I'd prefer it if it wasn't at work) and play nice. I still don't know why she makes me feel so bad about myself. It doesn't make sense.
• Served a lot of high maintenance American tourists escaping their winter back home.

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The following is not meant to be an anti-American slagging off, it's just what I had to deal with in one eight hour shift.

 

I'm not writing this to be offensive to anyone but I must implore if you're from the states, for the sake of the reputation of your country (and the sanity of hotel staff)  if you know someone from the U.S with the following tendencies who is about to travel overseas pleeeeease get them to think about how they conduct themselves and if you are guilty aswell. . .please stop.

• Don't yell, we can hear you and believe it or not we also understand English.
• Please don't give me a geography lesson: "I'm from <insert well known U.S city here>. . .That's in the U.S.A"
• Stop complaining about everything, it's really not that bad.
• If the bottle says aspirin. . .it's still aspirin even if the brand is different to the one you use at home.
• I don't run your economy and it's not my fault your dollar is currently weak.
• Don't presume I'm stupid or have a dead end job because I work in the service industry. We get paid very nicely to do what we do here and we do it because we love it, let us make you smile. That goes for our restaurant staff as well, they are highly trained (and paid) career waiters and sommeliers, please don't talk down to them.
• If my answer to your question is not the one you were hoping for please don't re-phrase your question eight times, then stand there staring at me before walking off saying "we'll see". It's possible the friend (also an American tourist) who gave you the information in the first place was wrong and if you're so certain their information was correct, Why are you double checking with me? (this happened three times today with three separate guests all asking different questions)
• Don't short change yourself by jumping in with a set of demands before you've heard our offer.
• I'm sorry that our food doesn't contain as much sugar as you're used to. . .supposedly even our bread isn't sweet enough.
• Please don't interrupt me when I'm talking to another guest, it's rude and obnoxious.
• With such wonderfully vibrant personalities you should be a joy to be around, please don't act like spoiled children.

That being said some of my worst guests are Australian, we even have a couple who get their names put up on the white board in back office when they're coming in as a pre-warning so our staff can prepare. The numbers don't add up though, of the 90-100 Americans I dealt with today, only one of them was sooooooo lovely, I just wanted to take her home. Why just one???? come on guys, tell your American friends they're getting a bad reputation.

LB. . .Why am I afraid to hit the Publish button?