The Pleasure Seeker

One of the more awkward aspects about my current job is the fact that people ask for my advice about literally everything. What I really mean by this is that nothing is too obscure or inappropriate. From time to time, guests think that they can confide absolutely anything in me and ask me for very personal favors. I'm sure that you can see where this is gravitating.

I should have given this particular guest more credit, he ended up being downright shocking. The final conversation ended with me speechless. Most of the more terrifying scenarios end with me having to collect my thoughts for a few seconds before I attempt to assist said guest any further.

Let's Tarantino this for a second; I have told you the ending to my story, let's reverse just for kicks.

Ok, so here's what went down. A gentleman came up to my desk one afternoon about 2 months ago. Because I am a self-professed professional nickname creator, let's refer to him as Johnson. Hilarity ensues at the double entendre. So Johnson seems perfectly normal if not a little aloof when I am talking to him. After about 40 minutes of parlance, Johnson admits to me that he's going through a difficult divorce and he is basically visiting our city to escape his horrific ex that's "taking him to the cleaners" as he put it. I can't help but feel a bit of empathy for the guy. Being dumped is one thing but being dumped by a vengeance-seeker is a horse of a different color. So I'll admit it, I feel a little sorry for the guy. Not sorry enough, however, to carry out his next request. This consists of him inviting me to join him for a dinner date, something that by force of habit I decline. Only on very rare occasions do I believe that it is appropriate to "fraternize" with guests off company property. Especially on a date with a freshly-heartbroken older gentleman. He is probably in his mid fifties, by the way. This is a little awkward for me seeing as how I'm fully aware that he is older than my father and he probably has no idea nor any regard for how old (or more appropriately, young) I am.

So back to the story. Johnson asks, I politely say no. His response to my declining his generous offer is to ask me if I have any friends that would like to join him for dinner. His exact words are "I'm not exactly looking for a $1000 date or anything but if one of your girlfriends would like to go out, I'd take very good care of her." At this point, I freeze and figuratively scratch my head for a moment. Is he asking me to whore out one of my friends? To set up one of my fun, cute, friendly, charming girlfriends with a certifiably creepy guest of ours that she has never met? That's not awkward at all. Part of me felt like saying "Well sure, but I require a finder's fee. Hookers are a hot commodity and not easy to find outside of Vegas." At this point, I'm definitely aware of what the next step is.

"Do you know a number I could call for a date if none of your girlfriends want to go?"

This is not the first time that I have been asked something along those lines but this is definitely the first time that I was considered a "first pick" above a prostitute. Hats off to you dear, classy Johnson. I'm happy to know that there are at least some men that desire me enough to proposition sex to me within the first 30 minutes.

My answer to Johnson is: "I'm sorry, and in no way do I mean to sound insulting, but I don't feel comfortable doing that. If you don't want to have dinner alone, there are plenty of restaurants that have beautiful bars that serve the restaurants' full menus. I do that myself when I go out for dinner alone. Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight?" It was the most polite way I could think to diffuse the situation without making him uncomfortable. It seemed to work for a short while. He stood up, politely thanked me, and walked over to our lounge. I go back to work for a few hours though I'm still laughing about the whole situation. It's a little ridiculous but I've had plenty more awkward incidents in my life. Like the following incident.

I walk into the lounge to say hi to one of my friends that's bartending. Johnson is sitting at the bar. He pleasantly smiles and I tell him a little more tourist information regarding something that he had asked me earlier. While we are chatting, my general manager walks up behind me and joins our conversation. Johnson realizes who she is and goes on and on singing my praises, saying about how I'm such an asset to the hotel, yadda yadda. I'm sure he's doing this to compensate for our earlier semi-awkward conversation. After he's done fully glorifying me to my GM, that's when the verbal diarreah explodes. He tells my GM about how he asked me for a date earlier and I refused. Then he tells her about how he asked me for a prostitute (his words) and how I refused to help him there as well. He is actually complaining to her about how that's the only thing that I have been unhelpful about. She is trying so diligently to be polite to him and she even says something along the lines of "Well our staff is very helpful, I'm sure we would be more than happy to assist you with anything else that you may need". She is awesome. I kind of wanted to high-five her. After we finally manage to extract ourselves from his bear-trap of a conversation (he is one of those lingerers that doesn't know he's a lingerer and you actually have to physically back away in order for him to take the hint), we both run to the back office like giggly little school girls. Here is our convo:

"OMG did he...?"
"Dude, he TOTALLY did!"
"Ughh what a pig?!? LOLZ!!!"
"MEN!"
"TELL ME about it."

Etc. I wonder if he has pulled this stunt at other hotels and how it has, ahem, served him in the past. Not only did Johnson ask me for a lady of the night but he had the gall to complain to my manager that I wasn't as "full-service" as he would have hoped. In addition, this is one of those rare situations where a manager experiences the same creepiness as you first hand. And it is glorious. I will bask in the moment.

Poor lonely Johnson. I hope that wherever he may be, he has finally found love. Or at least a date under $1000 a night.

The Business with Coworkers

Many times in hospitality, there is more of an issue with coworkers than actual guests. This is probably due to the fact that we see each other every single day and before long you're fighting and eventually this leads to either ignoring said person or plotting revenge. In this particular instance, I regret to say that the latter happened.

I am generally not a vengeful person. I like to walk into most situations giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. I am a member of the "innocent until proven guilty" school. There are times when I feel like I graduated Summa Cum Laude of my class. I believe that compartmentalizing is essential in human relations. However, despite these traits, every once in a while there is one person that rubs me in such a wrong way that I want to do something to him/her that demonstrates exactly what my emotions are toward the person in question. This particular person still stands out to this day and if I ever see him I'm sure that the confrontation would not be pretty. I don't hold a grudge very often but I'd like to think that when I do, I am justified in doing so.

I am certain that all of you have met someone throughout the course of your life that thinks that he/she can get away with everything. In this story, that guy's name will be "Jerkface". Because he was. I am going to be diplomatic. Let me give you a few facts about Jerkface before I let my opinions sway you:

Jerkface was perfectly charming when he first started working at my hotel. I had just been promoted to the position of Front Desk Lead and was very excited at having my first management job. I didn't exactly have a whole lot of authority but it kind of made me feel like I was moving up in the world. Whatever, don't judge me. I was 19 at the time.

Anyway, back to Jerkface. He initially seemed so fun that I invited him to hang out with myself and some of my girlfriends after work one day. Naturally, one of my friends took a shine to him and they hit it off immediately. They went out on a few dates, hung out constantly, talked on the phone, he bought her flowers, she made him dinner, there were several sleepovers at her house, yadda yadda yadda. Really, the whole nine. Jerkface and I were cool at work and he was considerate, polite and really a true gentleman. Everything seemed to be going just swimmingly for about a week, maybe two at the most. Until I realized that Jerkface had a live-in girlfriend. With whom he owned a dog. A pug, to be exact. This is really when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Immediately, I phoned my lady to tell her what I just figured out. My friend was outraged to say the least. At first she was a little angry with me but then I explained how I had absolutely NO idea that Jerkface was in a relationship. The only reason I did know is because his girlfriend trotted into the hotel one afternoon because he had forgotten his lunch she packed for him. She seemed pleasant enough and told Jerkface that she liked me so much that "We should totally have her over for dinner one night, sweetie! LOLZ!!#!*" Awkward. Maybe now wasn't the perfect time to tell her that I'd set up her less than faithful "sweetie" with one of my good friends. Needless to say, I have a soul and therefore declined her generous offer.

My friend considered hanging out with Jerkface as "just friends" after she found out that he was spoken for. He kept claiming that he cared more about her than he did his girlfriend and he really wanted to break up with her so he could be with my friend. Led on by the prospect that one day they would be together in a blissful, carefree relationship, my poor friend continued to see him. After several weeks of going back and forth about the whole issue, she realized that it just couldn't happen and she was done. She told Jerkface that she knew he wasn't going to leave his girlfriend for her and she couldn't keep the farce alive any longer. She didn't want to see him anymore and that was the end of it. Or so we thought.

Jerkface was then thrown into a fitful, jealous hurricane of rage that I couldn't have spotted brewing off the coast even if I was using Doppler radar. He proceeded to stalk my poor friend that was trying to move on with her life. He actually broke into her apartment one time and she threatened to call the cops so he rushed out. She called me crying, not knowing what else to do. Although I definitely knew better than to a) get involved in the whole ridiculous situation and b) let my work and private lives intermingle, I was so deeply rooted in this situation that I felt a strong obligation to assist my friend in her time of need. I approached Jerkface at work and very reasonably told him that I thought he should leave her alone because he was scaring her. Looking back, I guess he percieved this as some sort of challenge and he brought his crazy to work. Oh lord, did he ever. One day, he actually had sex with one of my coworkers in the bell closet. I found this out way after the fact and because I had no real proof there wasn't anything that I could do to vindicate him. Honestly, what kept running through my head is that I would have been in just as much trouble as him if I knew and hadn't told my manager.

At this point, I was beginning to lose all respect for Jerkface and our friendly work relationship came to a screeching halt. I didn't exactly abhor him at this point but I certainly didn't like him and never invited him to any activites outside of work. One thing I will say about him is that he was extremely intelligent in some ways. He knew instantly that a) I didn't like him anymore (What can I say? I'm an open book.) and b) he could get under my skin just enough to annoy me because he knew that I didn't have the authority to fire him. I distinctly remember one shift where I was the MOD (manager on duty). I radioed him from the front desk asking him to bring luggage up to a room (he was a bellman, incidentally) and he actually had the nerve to radio back to me, so that everyone in the building with a radio could hear I might add, "Whatever you say, MO-double d."

Excuse me? Did I hear right? I understand that I am probably more endowed than most but seriously? I radioed him again, this time saying that I wanted to have a word with him in private. I explained to him that I may not have the authority to fire him but I was his manager and saying something that disrespectful to me is not only completely unwarranted but extremely offensive. And that I would be reporting it to our GM. I was seething but this actually was the most mild thing he did during his tirade. I have saved the worst for last, I'm afraid.

One of my favorite coworkers was an older gentleman that was the manager of the maintenance department. He had a reputation for being extremely likable and doing a great job at whatever task he took on. One night, he was walking out to his car and saw Jerkface in his uniform, still on the clock, talking with some younger guests by their car. Greg, as I will refer to this coworker, saw money and a bag being exchanged between Jerkface and the guests. Greg waited for the guests to go upstairs and confronted Jerkface about what he saw. Of course, Jerkface denied anything happening and told Greg that he must have been seeing things. Greg told me what happened and I decided to investigate further. I asked around among other employees to see what they knew (because at this point Jerkface was a pariah and about 90% of my coworkers, myself included, were looking for any excuse to get him fired). What I found out wasn't all that surprising given his recent behavior. One of the other bellman told me that what he sold those guests was actually crack cocaine. And that he had done it before. It was enough to have our general manager give him the dreaded pink slip. He was actually told upon being let go that he was not allowed on premises for any circumstance whatsoever and that we would be mailing him his last paycheck to ensure he never came on property again.

I assumed that we were over and done with the entire situation. Not wanting to be involved in any more workplace drama, the building went back to normal. He was really the only coworker that anyone had a problem with so the entire mood of the hotel actually improved upon his departure. About 2 weeks went by. The mood was so jovial at the hotel that we actually all let our guard down a bit. I did explain before that Jerkface was actually crazy and irrational, correct? I thought so. Just wanted to re-state the obvious. Who walks in the door one night when I'm the MOD yet again and sits down in our lounge with one of his slimy buddies? I'm sure you know where this is going. I hesitated about 30 seconds and weighed my options.

1. I could calmly walk into the lounge and confront him
2. I could call over to the bartender and ask him not to serve him, hoping that would force him to leave
3. I could call the police

I wonder which one I chose.

About 2 minutes later, the officer showed up and escorted him out of the building. I figured it was the option that was completely warranted and involved me the least. I didn't want to be provoked by him in any way and I certainly didn't want to lose my cool and get into an altercation at work. I'm sure that would have happened had I walked into the lounge and told him he wasn't welcome. Like I said, I'm not usually a vengeful person. But Jerkface had crossed the line for the last time.

Although I do get a good laugh from the whole situation nowadays, it was completely draining at the time. Given the choice, I prefer to be uninvolved in drama. It takes up too much time and life is too short to be in weird social situations, especially with people that I see every day. Lesson learned, don't ever play where you get paid.

The Player

This is always one of my favorite stories and I have told it many times. It is so unbelievable that it HAS to be true. Without further adieu, I give you The Player:

I was working at a small, exclusive luxury hotel over the course of about a year. Having said this, the guests at this particular hotel, as opposed to a larger, brand name hotel, were by far the most entertaining. I guess they thought that by staying at a hotel unassociated with a global brand name they had a certain sense of anonymity so they could behave however they wanted. This included families. In this particular vignette that I am relating to you, the guests in question were, in fact, a family. A weird one at that.

There was a mother and father and two, pardon my phraseology here, rather in-bred looking children. The mother was rather ditzy with enormous fake nails, puffy bleached blonde hair, and clothes that looked like she went shopping in Peggy Bundy's closet. The dad wasn't bad looking but he had an air of, as my sister would put it, an underlying sense of "Master Creep". They were nice enough but their whole demeanor really wreaked of Clampett-esque behavior. In blunt terms, they seemed kind of trashy and out of place at an upscale hotel. But money is money and it's not really my place to judge them. All that I am saying is that they weren't playing with a full deck of cards and I noticed it the minute I checked them in.

The night went on and they were in the lobby a little later but nothing seemed super out of the ordinary. I left for the night, knowing that I had to do a turn-around and planning on getting a mediocre amount of sleep in my 8 hours between shifts.

When I arrived for work the next morning, the night auditor was abuzz. She simply couldn't calm down and tell me what happened for the next 10 minutes. Finally, I got the story out of her.

At about 12am, she got a phone call from their room. Let's heretofore refer to the husband in this scenario as "douche" just for clarity's sake. I'm not biased. Or sarcastic. Ever. I swear.

Douche: "My wife is snoring and I can't sleep. Do you have another room that I could have for the night?"

Auditor: "We have one left. It's (insert expensive rate here) a night. You have to come down to the desk to fill out the paperwork."

Douche: "That's fine. Thank you."

So he comes down to the desk, fills out the paperwork, takes his keys, and goes up to his new room. The auditor thinks nothing more of this because it seems like a relatively reasonable request. She goes back to doing her shiftwork. About 30 minutes later, a call comes in from outside the hotel.

Caller: "Would you be able to transfer me to Douche's room? He's in (room number)."

Auditor: "I'd be happy to transfer you. Do you have the guest's last name?"

Caller: "We, uh, just recently met. I don't know his last name. Could you just transfer me to his room?"

Wierd, huh? Is this a drug deal? Illegal firearms being exchanged? Oh no. About 40 minutes later, two ladies of the night arrive at the hotel and, without a word to the auditor, go right up to Douche's room. They are there for an hour and a half.

Let's rewind for a moment here. (Yes, I'm going all retro on you by harking back to the days when we all had vhs players and had to manually rewind our tapes. God forbid if you returned a video to the rental store without having a massive guilt if you didn't "Be Kind, Please Rewind". We had one of those old school tape rewinders that was a CORVETTE. Booya. I used to watch my copy of Muppet Treasure Island over and over not because of how awesome Tim Curry was but just so I could use our sweet 'Vette.) This is a "gentleman" that is on vacation. With his family. They are staying in another room in the hotel. The wife and his two kids. I think they may actually all be on the same floor, ironically enough. He's having the time of his life. His wife is happily snoring away with their kids, none the wiser of her hubby's escapades. She's getting restful sleep and he's getting some poon. Part of me wants to say that it's a win-win situation.

One of the ladies that Douche has invited up to his room (to play backgammon, no doubt) comes down to the lobby and starts talking to our night auditor. She's picking up some things from our gift shop and saying, probably to herself, "My daughter would love this. This place is gorgeous."

I have no words.

She goes outside and a car picks her up about 10 minutes later. Another half an hour goes by. The other lady comes downstairs. This one says nothing to our auditor and goes right out the front door. A car picks her up as well. A few hours pass. Douche comes downstairs at about 5am and delivers this wonderful line:

"I'm finished with that room. Can I go ahead and settle up the bill?"

Stunned, our auditor charges his card and gives him the bill. He smiles, thanks her, and asks for another copy of the key to his room where his family is still blissfully sleeping. He gets in the elevator, goes up to his old room and, presumably, gets back into bed with his wife.

At this point, the auditor is so shocked that she is fully drained from the events of the night. She goes home. I am giggling by myself at the desk until my coworker arrives about an hour later. I catch her up to speed with what happened. It is now about 8am. We served breakfast in our lobby until about 11am every morning. Guess who shows up for bagels and fruit at about 8:30? Pushing the stroller with both of his greasy, mouth-breathing children seated inside. The family man to the bitter end. The very essence of class.

I have saved the best part of the story for last. My coworker, who is a married mother of 3, is furious about the whole situation. The family walks by the desk. She calls Douche over.

Coworker: "Excuse me, sir? I think you left a copy of your bill for your other room here at the desk."

Douche doesn't bat an eye. He walks right up, smiles, and takes the copy of the bill. His wife is RIGHT next to him and is completely oblivious. Like I said before, she is very ditzy. Even though she is next to him when he collects his papers, she has NO idea. She turns to her kids and starts cooing into the stroller. I am shocked. We even tried to subtly have him get caught but he is so ridiculously slick that he got away with it.

The more I look back and think about it, the more I realize that they deserve each other. I guess if I can take one thing away from the story is that in this life, you can never truly get away with anything. Sure, douche got away with this with his wife but I assure you, within hours the ENTIRE staff of the hotel knew every detail. And I will say this: Karma is a bitch. I can only assume that Douche eventually will get his comeuppance. Just between you and me, I think he deserves it.

The "Accident"

Having worked at various hotels and eateries over the course of about 7 years, I thought it was a fair assumption to say that I had seen it all. One of the aspects of hospitality is that it has taught me to never assume because, let's face it without sounding trite, it makes an ass out of you and me. That being said, I thought that my little bubble of experience was sufficiently impermeable to shock at its current stage. Luckily, I was proven wrong this past weekend.

I arrived at work this Sunday groggy, half-asleep and it was definitely still dark outside. Needless to say, I was in a semi-fog. I was greeted by my coworker on this particular balmy September morning in an odd way. The conversation went something like this:

Coworker: "Whatever you do, please promise me that you won't enter the lobby women's restroom."

Me: "Why?"

CW: "No, seriously. I know we joke around a lot at work. I am probably the worst offender to be honest. I promise you, you don't want to go in there."

Me: "Seriously? What happened?"

CW: "If you still value your soul and all that is holy and may eventually want to have children, please for the love of God do not go in there. That is all I will say."

Perplexed, I seriously flirted with the fact that I may have to actually dare to open that door. I weighed the pros and cons of the situation. Pro: I will probably have a deliciously disgusting story that I can tell for years to come and retain a certain guilty pleasure from said story. Con: entering the ladies restroom on that fateful day may actually cause blindness, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, and possibly rickets. After pondering my options for seriously 5 minutes I finally decided that I'd rather not lose the future ability to bear children and went back to work.

About 2 hours of begging countless people to tell me what events had occurred the night before finally became fruitful. Apparrently, a guest came to the front desk at 3am claiming that a woman had passed out in our lobby bathroom. On the floor. One of the hazards of living in a city is that sometimes, no matter how diligent our night watchman is, a homeless person finds a way to sneak in and use our restroom. Assuming that said person sleeping on the floor was homeless, I relaxed for a moment.

But wait....what's this you say? Oh yes, I remember now. The sleeper was in fact a guest here at the hotel. She had gone out on the town, had a bit too much to drink, and didn't make it up to her room before she passed out in a drunken stupor in a public place. What makes the story so much more entertaining is what she did in the bathroom. Simply passing out is sooo blase. She needed to do something more memorable like, say, pass out in a pool of her own vomit. That was everywhere. Including all over herself. But alas, the story doesn't end there. Sadly, this poor drunken lady of obvious class and distinction let her bowels loose. ALL OVER THE RESTROOM. I'm talking the counters. The walls. The floor. Herself. Part of me really wishes that I was making this up. I really do. The fact that there are people out there that exhibit this type of behavior in public is appalling. What makes this story so much more delicious is the fact that my coworker that warned me in the beginning of this tale, in addition to the watchmen, had to CARRY HER to her room. Covered in her own filth. At 3:30 in the morning. Oh, the pleasures of working in a 24-hour business.

And some people wonder why when we drink, we drink heavily.

The Slapdown

Ok, so I will state my disclaimer right off the bat here. This happened at the beginning of the summer so every single detail may not come into my head. The following story is something that I can only relate based on the important details because that's all that I can remember. Here goes:

I have my own desk at work. I have worked very hard to have my own desk and I have served my time doing the miserable jobs where I have to share everything with about 8 other people that have no regard for my personal space. I am only OCD about maybe 5 things in this world and one of those is pens. It has gotten so out of control that I literally only want to write with one type of pen or I feel like my right hand is going to combust. If I have ONE more pen stolen from me in the next month I will find you. Oh, yes. I will. I digress. My point is this: most people get very touchy when they think that someone takes their stuff. This brings us up to speed with the story. Part of me can identify with the guests involved but the other rational part of me is dumbstruck. This is a typical reaction as I'm sure you're aware.

I am at my desk on a lovely morning in late spring/early summer and the guests are aplenty. There are usually several people waiting to talk to me at any given time because tourist season is almost in full swing. Apparrently, tensions run high among said guests. I currently have a couple asking me for advice on the town. They're really great people and I am taking my time with them. I try to at least make it appear that I'm giving fair treatment to everyone that comes to ask me for advice. I probably speak with them for about 10 minutes or so becuause they're being considerate to the 2 groups of people waiting behind them. They get up to leave. Here is what happens over the course of about 10 seconds:

1. The "gentleman" that has been waiting the longest comes up to my desk from the left side
2. Another "gentleman" that has only been waiting for about 5 minutes lunges forward from the right side
3. LSG (which is what I'm referring to "left side guy" as from now on) throws his arm out toward the opposing guy, slaps my desk (that reverberates to the point where it actually terrifies me that LSG might really do some damage both mentally and physically to RSG) to indimidate him, and bellows something that echos throughout the entire lobby: "I believe that I have been waiting here longer. I think you can wait for 5 more minutes."
4. LSG sits down rather calmly, takes a breath, and says rather loudly to me so that RSG can hear "You know that young punk doesn't have any respect."

I am stunned. I literally couldn't speak for about 30 seconds. I opened my mouth and shut it about 4 times. I still don't really understand why I felt more awkward and embarrassed than either of them. I would call it a fight but it was one-sided. I would say that technically LSG was right but did he need to cause a scene in the middle of the lobby? I didn't know I was so in demand.

LSG talks to me for the next 15 minutes while RSG sulks about 10 feet away from me. Finally when LSG feels that he has successfully extracted all of the information that he needs from me, he very politely stands up, shakes my hand, and walks away. Poor RSG finally walks very slowly up to my desk and quietly mumbles,"Can I have a map?" I inquire"That's all you wanted this whole time?" He doesn't answer, silently takes the map from me, and walks away.

Lessons Learned:

- don't cut anyone in line
- don't yell at a stranger
- don't cause a scene in a public place
And the most important of all:
- don't involve outside parties because....

I will blog about you later.

My Soapbox

Having spent my entire adult life working in the hospitality and food and bev industry, I have acquired many a story in my "workplace horrors" repertoire. There are plenty of nightmare stories that would cause even Mike Rowe to gag. My personal philosophy is that everyone should be forced to work at some form of hospitality job either before, during, or after college to give one a bit of perspective. This perspective might come in handy when, say, dining at a restaurant. Trust me, your side of ranch dressing is not that important to me and if I don't remember it the first time please politely ask me again. Don't ask for my manager, don't tell me that you will only dine here again if I have been fired, and the cardinal rule for those that have seen Waiting...: don't EVER be rude with people that handle your food. This blog will help to serve as my soapbox, or more appropriately, my megaphone to speak up for those that toil tirelessly in the kitchen or behind the desk.

Just to bring everyone up to speed for those of you that are joining us in the middle of our regularly scheduled program, I love my job. There have only been maybe two times in my life that I can say I truly despised my current job and one of those was when I worked in a barn. I think it takes a certain type of person that is able to switch their hospitality on and off and I am very grateful to have that gift. Granted, it doesn't necessarily warrant infinite patience because LORD knows I don't have a ton. But thus is the plight of hospitality. There are days that I will wake up late, get ready in 15 minutes or less, drive 10 miles an hour over the speed limit to work, literally sprint out of the parking garage in heels to make sure that I clock in on time, grab a cup of semi-crappy hotel brand coffee that I won't be able to enjoy because I am literally chugging it to wake up, only to realize a few things when I finally plop down at my desk approximately 3 minutes late:

1. I haven't brushed my teeth
2. I spilled a tiny dribble of coffee down my white suit jacket...I'll say that again for those of you in the cheap seats. My white suit jacket.
3. I'm sweating to the point where my Jew fro (that I incidentally spend hours each week to keep smooth) starts to kick in
4. I have a line 5 people deep waiting to talk to me

And so begins Delighted to Serve....