The Haunted Hotel Room

I’m currently in London, staying at the “posh” hotel the company puts me in on St. Martin’s Lane. The hotel itself eclipses my own tiny coolness by over 400 MegaFoznies and it is doubtful I would be allowed into the lobby, except perhaps has a hat rack or piece of retro art, if the company were not vouching for my presence.

“Don’t Worry!”, it has told the front desk, “the nerd doesn’t rub off onto the furniture!” Just in case, I am certain there has been a deposit put on my room ranging in the six figures in case the next guest touches the desk where I work, loses all cool and suddenly starts making some sense. Also, there is plastic on the floors.

The hotel prides itself on customer service. It caters to the customer’s every whim. Or so it thinks.

Like many men of a certain age, when I get home from a long day slinging bits, waxing geekie or trying to con customers out of their shekels, I like to come, home, relax and have a good long … sit. When I am traveling, this is a little more difficult because my …. Ummm… usual sitting chair … isn’t here and the one they provide is not cluttered with the wide library of reading material my usual chair has to offer (unless I brought it from home which I always fail to do). Usually, I have a few minutes to myself, then get back to the desk and do some email. In this hotel, that’s impossible because… it’s cool to check on the guests.

For example, yesterday. I came in about 4:00pm after a host of meetings and a short walk over from Buckingham Palace (as a tourist, not as a geek or a salesperson). When I came in, I noticed that housekeeping had not made the bed or cleaned yet. Kind of sloppy for 4 pm, but Madonna is in the hotel and (I assume) her pet llama is keeping the staff hopping. No problem for me, I am not that fussy. I grab a magazine and go get comfortable, ready for a good long sit and… I hear the knock…

“Housekeeping, hello? … Housekeeping”
As the maid enters the room, I try to keep my dignity and shout, “No thank you!” but it’s too late, she’s in.. and she knows where I am sitting.

“uhhh housekeeping. Housekeeping sir!”
“uhh no thank you”
“No sir! Housekeeping. I must clean room. Clean room”
“I’m a little busy, can you come back at a more inconvenient time? I was planning a bath later, can you come then?”
“??? Uhhh… housekeeping sir!”

And then the moment was gone. I put myself back together, take my book and go down to the lobby, leaving a puzzled chezch woman to clean the room and express her profound unhappiness at what I have just done to the room in which she is going to be spending the next 15 minutes. As I close the door I hear a swear in Hungarian and the fan click on.

In the lobby, I meet a co-worker, one I left 10 minutes before. Our eyes meet and we say almost simultaneously,
“housekeeping!”

We decide to go get a drink and an early supper. I go back up to my room to get my coat, but the maid is there and she now as a full knowledge of the deeply shameful things I’ve done while sitting in the chair. I enter the room, she turns to me, scowls and says in her best drill-sergeant voice,
“HOUSEKEEPING!”

I grab my coat and flee the scene.

Hotel 1, me 0

My co-worker and I have dinner, a drink and then take a pleasant walk down to the London Eye and back. Very nice. I return to my room about 10:00pm, make a call and get ready to turn in. I sit back in my chair, grab my book and within a minute hear a knock. The door opens and a voice calls out, “Turndown? Turndown sir?”

“No thank you!”, but it’s too late, she’s in the room before she realizes I’m on the chair. A moment later she realizes what’s going on and flees. Hotel 2, me 0.

I get ready for bed and call for a wake up call at 6am. I have a lot of early meeting and have a client breakfast at 7am.

“Would you like a pot of coffee in the morning sir?”
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you”

That seems cool. I like morning coffee and at 6am, 9 timezones from home, that seems perfect. As the reader may have already guessed, this is a Bad Idea.

6am comes. The phone rings. I pick it, bleary eyed and stupid. “Hello?” I answer.
“This is your wake up call sir”
“Okay, thanks.” I am cold, tired, in my underwear and vaugly think I should look for my glasses when…

“Coffee service sir!”
“I just hung up the fucking receiver!” , I whine, letting go of the phone.

In comes an improbably cheery (and blurry) man wheeling a cart of (what I assume to be)coffee. Which I need to sign for, while I am fat, tired, blind and hanging out for all the world to see. Hotel 3, me 0.

Today, I get back from meeting out in Reading, about 90 minutes door-to-door from the hotel. It’s 4:30pm. I enter the room and realize, a) it’s been made up and b) I’m likely safe. I grab my book and proceed to the throne. I do not pass Go! I do not collect $200. I do, sit down, get comfortable and almost immediately hear,
“housekeeping!”
“Go AWAY!”
“Sorry sir, I just need to check and make sure the room has been made up”
“It’ fine! Go Away”
But it was too late. She knew. Hotel 4, me 0.

So finally, tonight. I go to dinner, do some shopping, have a walk. I come back. It’s 8:30pm. I grab my book. I check it for hidden cameras, microphones, microdots and poltergeists. Nothing. I enter the bathroom. It looks fine. I check the chair for pressure switches. I find none which shouldn’t be there. I wait. … nothing happens. I wait a few more minutes…. More fails to happen. I figure I am safe. I sit.
“Housekeeping!”
“IMMIGRATION!” I yell back.
The door closes.
I open my book and start reading.