TheBanyanTree: Checking In Blues

[red_clay at numail.org]

Fate has me back on the latest new and improved version of the road trip.
I am in New York state working my way back to confines that I find more
comfortable, more recognizable, and more like home.

So, has this ever happened to you?

You check into your hotel after a hard day's work, or drive or whatever that is
leaving you tired down to the very marrow.  In tonight's case add the howling
wind blowing so hard that you have trouble walking from the parking lot into the
hotel lobby.

You're tired and want desperately nothing more than courtesy at the front desk,
a speedy, uneventful check-in, and a chance to hit the sack as soon as possible.
You have to get desperately needed rest for tomorrow's tasks.

What awaits you in the lobby?  A crowd, a crowd all wanting to be checked in
just like you.  So you find your place at the back of the line and wait while
people ahead of you get checked in.  And you find yourself steaming around the
collar when said folks drag around, get chatty with the front desk personnel,
have their checking in halted by the telephone ringing (at the sound of the
phone ringing they immediately stop checking in a guest and give the person who
called first priority,  including making reservations, directing calls to rooms,
explaining how to work the remote, taking maintenance requests for blown light
bulbs, fractured thermostats, noisy next door fellow guests, etc., etc.)

So, after what seems an eternity you make it to the front desk and the clerk
starts on your check-in only to be delayed and moved to second place again when
the phone rings again.  You steam. They talk.  Sometimes it is a girlfriend or
boyfriend, a mom, a wife, a husband. You get really steamed.

And after another delay or two finally the thing hoped for comes: an envelope
with the room key, the number of your room written down and directions to the
elevator or room, whichever is appropriate.  You feel better and head for the
elevator dragging your luggage and bags the best way you can.

You reach your room, which is always in the opposite direction than first
expected when you exit the elevator, reach for the envelope, extract the key and
try it into the door. In the modern world keys are plastic cards.  Metal keys
that resemble a true key do not exist except in 5 Star Hotels or third world
countries.

And the key doesn't work.

You try it again.  It still doesn't work.

You, being the wily experienced road warrior that you are, try it again and
again, changing your sliding technique.  Faster once, no good.  Even faster,
still no good. Slower, no good. Medium slow.  Upside down, sideways, rub the
card and try again.  All to no avail.

You groan, maybe you cuss.  You notice that the peephole lenses in the doors of
other rooms darken when you get mad and kick the door in disgust just before
loading up your luggage again (you can't very well leave it in the hallway) and
take the elevator downstairs again.  You explain what has happened to the clerk
who asks you if you tried sliding the card faster, or slower, or tried it in
upside down, etc.  After getting steamed some more you answer yes to all the
questions and the clerk starts to reprogram the card, but she doesn't finish
because the phone has rung while she is doing that.  After explaining to the
customer that their wake up call is now set for 6:30 am and hanging up, the
clerk has to ask you what your room number because the distraction has made her
forget and she attempts again to reprogram the key to the right room number.

You take the key and drag your luggage to your room again.  You try the key
again.  It doesn't work again.  You try it fast.  You try it slow.  You try it
upside down.  You wipe it on your pant's leg and try it again. Normal, fast,
slow, upside down.  It doesn't work.  You scream, you cuss, you kick the door
harder than before.  Peephole lenses are darkened.  Mumbling is going on behind
closed doors.

You drag yourself and luggage back down the hall, take the elevator back down to
the lobby and they see the steam rising from your jacket collar and from your
head.  The clerk immediately recommends changing your room number and starts
processing the paperwork.  The phone rings.  The clerk does not ignore it.  You
are a steam boiler in need of a relief valve.  The clerk hangs up, finishes up
the room change paperwork, reprograms the key and hands it to you.  You "forget"
to tell the clerk, Thank you this time.

You drag your luggage to the elevator, down the hall, to your new room and then
slide the key.  The door unlocks and you finally enter.

Then you blame management for trying to improve efficiency by making check-in
clerks answer the phone while checking in new guests, for modern technology for
those crummy swipe card door locks with their bad magnetic strips, propensity to
malfunction with dust and dirt locking assemblies, lock assemblies with
batteries that go bad or have loose connections.  You swear that you wished that
you had never heard of or touched such a thing as a swipe card door key. 

You decide that you have had enough.  You will write a letter to management and
tell them what you really think of their thoroughly modern, highly efficient
hotel operation.

But right now you need rest -- the thing that you came here for but failed to
find until now.

Good grief!  

And good night.



   bd
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