Speaking of Service

This isn't a properly retroactive post, as I didn't actually write it while I was in India. However, while I was transcribing the previous entry from my notebook I was reminded about something else: The god-damned housekeeping manager.

One thing you need to know for this story is that while I was in India I was still working night shift. I'd start work at midnight and usually be there until nine or ten in the morning. The fact that I was therefore sleeping during the daytime inconvenienced the hotel staff. At a five-star hotel people will ring your doorbell to clean your room, to leave you a bowl of fresh fruit, to restock your minibar, to collect your laundry, to turn down your bed (this is in addition to making it when they cleaned your room), and sometimes, most bewilderingly of all, just to see if there's anything else that they can do for you. I don't even like this many interruptions when I'm awake, imagine when I'm trying to sleep.

The guy who did the morning room-cleaning was pretty cool, I explained my schedule to him once or twice the first week and from then on he did up the room around 8 AM, while I was still at work. Nobody else managed to figure this one out, so I had to leave the Privacy Please sign hanging on the doorknob. Sounds simple enough, right?

Here's the catch 22: If I didn't leave the Privacy Please sign out the doorbell would ring four or five times a day. That's usually sleepthroughable, but very annoying when I'm trying to fall asleep in the first place (which is hard enough to do in the daytime when you're in a room that hasn't been properly daylight-proofed). But if I did leave the Privacy Please sign out all of these people turned away by the sign would report back that they couldn't do whatever extra-touch-of-class task they'd set out to do, and after a few hours of this my arch-fucking-enemy, the housekeeping manager, would CALL MY ROOM. The phone was near the bed; I used the wake-up call service as an alarm.

The first time this happened, I very politely explained my schedule and that I would be sleeping during the daytime so if they could schedule the housekeeping around that and not disturb me while I was asleep that would be great. She was very apologetic for having disturbed me. Three days later she called again. I mentioned that I was sleeping when she called and clarified that I would be sleeping during the daytime for the rest of my stay at the hotel, not just as a temporary situation. She was ever so incredibly apologetic. Oh good, I thought, that's resolved. Until two days later when she called again, just to ask if there was anything I needed. The timing of these calls, by the way, were always such that I'd had about 3-5 hours of sleep so far and so had slept long enough to be at my most irritated possible at being woken, and to have the hardest time falling back asleep. The restraint I showed for the first six or so calls was truly remarkable. I became gradually less polite in explaining my sleeping times and that if I did need anything from housekeeping I would call them, but for some reason foolishly believed after each call that since I'd explained it in firmer tones and then that I'd clearly shown my irritation, the problem would be resolved and the scumsucking housekeeping manager would make a note not to call me merely to remind me that housekeeping was there should I have anything I needed from them.

A little over halfway through my stay I finally wised up and went down to have a pleasant little talk to the general manager. In addition to promising to speak with each department to make sure they knew I wasn't to be called, they put a block on my phone so that it wouldn't even ring without first being routed to the front desk for clearance. I explained that anyone from work should be allowed to ring through (they generally only called on days we had off or had otherwise made plans to go out during the daytime so I was awake anyway), and in fact that the only calls that I really cared about blocking were the ones from the hotel staff itself. I explained that they were calling for no good reason, just asking if I needed anything, which I did not. Anyone outside of the hotel should be allowed to call me, though. Don't block my friends from work, I said.

So naturally, every time that Vikram, Bindu, or one of the other guys from work would call they'd go through five minutes of "Are you sure it'll be okay? He's got a do not disturb order on the line!" before they'd get through.

In summary, if this is what it's like to jet-set and be pampered, I'm getting rid of my ambitions because I'd rather stay broke. (Well, lower-middle class is probably more accurate, even though it would make worse prose.)