We had a calmer day at the inn yesterday. No late night phone calls, no unexpectedly broken down rooms. Even breakfast turned out to be surprisingly tranquil.
We turned away multiple people for rooms last night. One woman came in during the middle of the day, totally stressed, while I was on the phone, taking a reservation. I told her that I'd help her find a room in a minute, but she kept talking over and asking questions through my phone call to the point where I had to just say, "I'll be with you in a few minutes," and walk away. She left before I could get off. Given that 90% of the places in the valley were booked already, I could have saved her a lot of time if she'd just waited patiently.
We have another late breakfast crowd today, together with some efficiencies who've said they're coming in, so it's going to get crazy before long.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Orphan Scene
Here is an orphan scene from THE DEVIL'S DEEP. It was meant to illustrate some aspects of Becca's character as well as further deepen the mystery of Rosa Solorio's disappearance. In the end, I decided it just wasn't pulling enough weight and didn't build any tension, so I cut it.
"Rebecca Gull. Please report to the nurse station. Rebecca Gull."
If it had been anyone's voice but Anne Wistrom's on the intercom, Becca would have ignored it. Physically, she was still in the building, some twenty feet from the front doors, but mentally, she'd already climbed into her car and driven away without glancing in her rear view mirror. She'd worked fourteen hours already and was supposed to meet some friends in half an hour to catch a movie. Half the residents were in bed already and the other half had been moving smoothly in the same direction. What could go wrong?
Dumb question. Things had a way of going to hell in two seconds around here. And Anne wasn't the sort to call to ask whether a resident should take his pills with water or apple sauce. If the nurse was paging, knowing that Becca was on her way out, it had to be something.
Becca returned to the nurse station to find William Edgeware banging his head against the wall. His HT, Dave, made comforting sounds and tried to take William's arm, but the man flailed and forced his retreat. Dave gave Becca an exaggerated shrug as she approached. Anne stood to one side with a frown.
William was normally a cheerful resident and easy except for a habit of eating cigarette butts that he found laying around the grounds. Becca had never seen him like this.
"Sorry to call you back," Anne said, "but we might need chemical intervention. I'll need your sign off."
"Any idea what set him off?" Becca asked, not yet ready to take that step. She hated to sedate someone. Forget the extra paperwork, she always felt like a zookeeper tranquilizing a difficult animal. It was hard enough for some people to treat the non-talkers like human beings without dehumanizing them further.
She made her own soothing sounds at William and moved cautiously within reach of the man, who must have outsized her by eight inches and a hundred pounds. He moaned and started to pull at his hair while rocking back and forth on his heels.
Dave said, "I found him outside, probably scrounging butts. Maybe he couldn't find any, because of the snow. I think he needs a nicotine fix."
"I don't buy it," Anne said. She was a smoker. "Cravings might make him irritable, but they wouldn't give him a complete meltdown."
Becca leaned in as far as she dared. "You're alright, big guy," she said in a low voice to William. "You're alright. Besides, look at his lips. He's had some butts." There were flecks of tobacco at the corners of his mouth.
But that gave her an idea. William had found his way into the employee break room more than once. Maybe he'd gone in for butts and ended up eating something else. Cleaner, or something.
"Stay with William for a minute. I want to check something out. If he starts banging again, I'll sign off," she told Anne, "otherwise, keep your distance. Maybe he'll settle down on his own."
Sure enough, the break room door was ajar. Sometimes, in winter, the door wouldn't close all the way. The keypad would blink red while it was open, but it was easy to overlook if you weren't paying attention. Which people didn't.
One glance inside the break room and Becca knew exactly what was the matter with William. There were dozens of half-eaten cigarettes scattered around the table and on the floor. Flakes of tobacco littered the table like sawdust and there were two empty packs on the table and another on the floor. Some idiot had failed to shut the break room door and someone else had left their cigarettes out. Or maybe the same someone. William had gobbled up several dozen cigarettes and now he was ODing on nicotine.
Becca grew angry as she surveyed the room. The cigarettes were Camels, not the Marlboro Lights that Anne smoked, so it wasn't the nurse. Besides, Anne kept hers in her purse. Then who?
Each employee had a drawer and Becca tested for unlocked doors, but found none. Of course, William might have found a drawer open, taken out the cigarettes, then accidentally pushed it locked again. Becca was angry enough that she wanted to find out who the hell had been so careless. She took out her master key and started opening drawers to see if she could find a box of camels that William might have missed.
She stopped when she got to Rosa Solorio's. Rosa, of course, couldn't have been responsible for William's condition, but Becca wondered what she'd find in the drawer. She opened it, not quite sure what she was looking for. There was an apple, a banana turning black, some microwave popcorn, and a coffee mug. And an mp3 player. Not the sort of thing one left behind.
Becca shut the door with a frown and looked through the rest of the drawers, but didn't turn up anything to let her place blame. She made sure to close the break room door tightly on her way out.
"He's not having a craving," she told Anne and Dave when she made it back to the nurse station, "he's having an overdose." She explained what she'd discovered.
"Oh, shit," Dave said. "Does he need to go to the hospital?"
William was still moaning and rubbing his head. Looking at him with fresh eyes, Becca thought he looked gray in the face. Poor guy must have felt like hell.
"I don't think so," the nurse said. "It'll enter his bloodstream more slowly through his digestive system than if he smoked it. But he's going to be agitated as hell for half the night. Might also throw up."
"About those cigarettes," the nurse said. She chewed on her lower lip. "They weren't Marlboro Lights were they?"
"Nope. Camels. Three full packs."
"Shit," Dave said for a second time. His matching gray look to William's told Becca everything she needed to know.
"Looks like I'll need the customary lecture about the break room at the next employee meeting," she said in a general sort of way. She'd calmed enough to think she should wait a couple of days before taking it up in specific with Dave. "Meanwhile, Dave, you'd better stick around until William calms down. Gonna take awhile."
He gave a glum nod. "Right."
As if on cue, William started to make urping sounds. On the fifth one, he threw up. It was a nasty, chunky, and sour smelling stew, filled with cigarettes, half of which looked to have been swallowed whole.
And for a third time, Dave muttered, "Shit."
"You keep saying that," Becca said, "and you're going to summon it from the other end, too."
William moaned as vomit trickled down his chin. "It's okay, William," Becca said as she rubbed his shoulder. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."
Becca glanced at the clock in the nurse station and sighed. Six minutes until the movie started. She'd never make it to the theater in time. Better call her friends and cancel.
"Rebecca Gull. Please report to the nurse station. Rebecca Gull."
If it had been anyone's voice but Anne Wistrom's on the intercom, Becca would have ignored it. Physically, she was still in the building, some twenty feet from the front doors, but mentally, she'd already climbed into her car and driven away without glancing in her rear view mirror. She'd worked fourteen hours already and was supposed to meet some friends in half an hour to catch a movie. Half the residents were in bed already and the other half had been moving smoothly in the same direction. What could go wrong?
Dumb question. Things had a way of going to hell in two seconds around here. And Anne wasn't the sort to call to ask whether a resident should take his pills with water or apple sauce. If the nurse was paging, knowing that Becca was on her way out, it had to be something.
Becca returned to the nurse station to find William Edgeware banging his head against the wall. His HT, Dave, made comforting sounds and tried to take William's arm, but the man flailed and forced his retreat. Dave gave Becca an exaggerated shrug as she approached. Anne stood to one side with a frown.
William was normally a cheerful resident and easy except for a habit of eating cigarette butts that he found laying around the grounds. Becca had never seen him like this.
"Sorry to call you back," Anne said, "but we might need chemical intervention. I'll need your sign off."
"Any idea what set him off?" Becca asked, not yet ready to take that step. She hated to sedate someone. Forget the extra paperwork, she always felt like a zookeeper tranquilizing a difficult animal. It was hard enough for some people to treat the non-talkers like human beings without dehumanizing them further.
She made her own soothing sounds at William and moved cautiously within reach of the man, who must have outsized her by eight inches and a hundred pounds. He moaned and started to pull at his hair while rocking back and forth on his heels.
Dave said, "I found him outside, probably scrounging butts. Maybe he couldn't find any, because of the snow. I think he needs a nicotine fix."
"I don't buy it," Anne said. She was a smoker. "Cravings might make him irritable, but they wouldn't give him a complete meltdown."
Becca leaned in as far as she dared. "You're alright, big guy," she said in a low voice to William. "You're alright. Besides, look at his lips. He's had some butts." There were flecks of tobacco at the corners of his mouth.
But that gave her an idea. William had found his way into the employee break room more than once. Maybe he'd gone in for butts and ended up eating something else. Cleaner, or something.
"Stay with William for a minute. I want to check something out. If he starts banging again, I'll sign off," she told Anne, "otherwise, keep your distance. Maybe he'll settle down on his own."
Sure enough, the break room door was ajar. Sometimes, in winter, the door wouldn't close all the way. The keypad would blink red while it was open, but it was easy to overlook if you weren't paying attention. Which people didn't.
One glance inside the break room and Becca knew exactly what was the matter with William. There were dozens of half-eaten cigarettes scattered around the table and on the floor. Flakes of tobacco littered the table like sawdust and there were two empty packs on the table and another on the floor. Some idiot had failed to shut the break room door and someone else had left their cigarettes out. Or maybe the same someone. William had gobbled up several dozen cigarettes and now he was ODing on nicotine.
Becca grew angry as she surveyed the room. The cigarettes were Camels, not the Marlboro Lights that Anne smoked, so it wasn't the nurse. Besides, Anne kept hers in her purse. Then who?
Each employee had a drawer and Becca tested for unlocked doors, but found none. Of course, William might have found a drawer open, taken out the cigarettes, then accidentally pushed it locked again. Becca was angry enough that she wanted to find out who the hell had been so careless. She took out her master key and started opening drawers to see if she could find a box of camels that William might have missed.
She stopped when she got to Rosa Solorio's. Rosa, of course, couldn't have been responsible for William's condition, but Becca wondered what she'd find in the drawer. She opened it, not quite sure what she was looking for. There was an apple, a banana turning black, some microwave popcorn, and a coffee mug. And an mp3 player. Not the sort of thing one left behind.
Becca shut the door with a frown and looked through the rest of the drawers, but didn't turn up anything to let her place blame. She made sure to close the break room door tightly on her way out.
"He's not having a craving," she told Anne and Dave when she made it back to the nurse station, "he's having an overdose." She explained what she'd discovered.
"Oh, shit," Dave said. "Does he need to go to the hospital?"
William was still moaning and rubbing his head. Looking at him with fresh eyes, Becca thought he looked gray in the face. Poor guy must have felt like hell.
"I don't think so," the nurse said. "It'll enter his bloodstream more slowly through his digestive system than if he smoked it. But he's going to be agitated as hell for half the night. Might also throw up."
"About those cigarettes," the nurse said. She chewed on her lower lip. "They weren't Marlboro Lights were they?"
"Nope. Camels. Three full packs."
"Shit," Dave said for a second time. His matching gray look to William's told Becca everything she needed to know.
"Looks like I'll need the customary lecture about the break room at the next employee meeting," she said in a general sort of way. She'd calmed enough to think she should wait a couple of days before taking it up in specific with Dave. "Meanwhile, Dave, you'd better stick around until William calms down. Gonna take awhile."
He gave a glum nod. "Right."
As if on cue, William started to make urping sounds. On the fifth one, he threw up. It was a nasty, chunky, and sour smelling stew, filled with cigarettes, half of which looked to have been swallowed whole.
And for a third time, Dave muttered, "Shit."
"You keep saying that," Becca said, "and you're going to summon it from the other end, too."
William moaned as vomit trickled down his chin. "It's okay, William," Becca said as she rubbed his shoulder. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."
Becca glanced at the clock in the nurse station and sighed. Six minutes until the movie started. She'd never make it to the theater in time. Better call her friends and cancel.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Crazy Time Has Started
It was an inauspicious beginning to our two week foliage rush. Our housekeeper was scrambling to get the rooms cleaned in time (she had ten to clean yesterday) and we realized belatedly that we hadn't scheduled time to wash the bedding (not the sheets, they're delivered by a linen service) in the rooms vacated by the long-timers. I also discovered that the toilet roll holder was broken and the hand towel rack was suspiciously shaky. Oh, and they'd stripped the phone wires and the phone would not be working for the weekend. Great.
M runs off to the laundromat where she can do the bedding as quickly as possible and I cannibalized some stuff I had in the basement and hauled up a drill, etc., to replace the toilet roll holder. Naturally, the guests from the broken down room were first to arrive. It was technically slightly before check-in, but we needed another hour, plus. Thankfully, they were understanding and went off with some friends to get something to eat.
A few minutes later I got a collect call from a guest who was lost. Their cell phone didn't work and they'd found a free phone but couldn't remember our number. So they called an operator and reversed charges. Turned out they'd driven right by our thirteen foot high sign four times and were only a block away. They didn't believe that they were a block away. On and on we go--collect, remember--until I finally convinced them to just get back in the car and trust me.
Evening was busy, but nothing overly weird happened. Until the moment we went to bed, upon which the phone started ringing. And ringing. We had late check-ins who couldn't find their keys (helpfully placed just inches from the courtesy phone in clearly labeled envelopes), a guest who called every five minutes from the road, asking, "what do I do now?" The answer: "Continue south, like I said last time."
The little guy woke up in the night, and then I woke up at five, inexplicably. Oh, so we opened a half hour early for the guests who insisted they needed to be somewhere this morning, but then nobody was here at 7:00 when the doors opened. When did the anxious guests arrive? 7:40, or ten minutes after we'd have otherwise opened.
It's now 7:50 and I'm tired and grouchy. And I still have dozens of breakfasts to cook, as everyone is apparently sleeping in. Which is why I've had plenty of time to write this cranky missive.
M runs off to the laundromat where she can do the bedding as quickly as possible and I cannibalized some stuff I had in the basement and hauled up a drill, etc., to replace the toilet roll holder. Naturally, the guests from the broken down room were first to arrive. It was technically slightly before check-in, but we needed another hour, plus. Thankfully, they were understanding and went off with some friends to get something to eat.
A few minutes later I got a collect call from a guest who was lost. Their cell phone didn't work and they'd found a free phone but couldn't remember our number. So they called an operator and reversed charges. Turned out they'd driven right by our thirteen foot high sign four times and were only a block away. They didn't believe that they were a block away. On and on we go--collect, remember--until I finally convinced them to just get back in the car and trust me.
Evening was busy, but nothing overly weird happened. Until the moment we went to bed, upon which the phone started ringing. And ringing. We had late check-ins who couldn't find their keys (helpfully placed just inches from the courtesy phone in clearly labeled envelopes), a guest who called every five minutes from the road, asking, "what do I do now?" The answer: "Continue south, like I said last time."
The little guy woke up in the night, and then I woke up at five, inexplicably. Oh, so we opened a half hour early for the guests who insisted they needed to be somewhere this morning, but then nobody was here at 7:00 when the doors opened. When did the anxious guests arrive? 7:40, or ten minutes after we'd have otherwise opened.
It's now 7:50 and I'm tired and grouchy. And I still have dozens of breakfasts to cook, as everyone is apparently sleeping in. Which is why I've had plenty of time to write this cranky missive.
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Little Guy's Language Development
I'm a lot more aware of how L's language is developing since I speak to him solely in Spanish. I'm always disappointed when he changes a previously utilized Spanish word for its English equivalent. This morning, for example, he was proudly holding up a leaf, saying, "Leaf. Look! Leaf." Just yesterday, he was using the Spanish word.
On the other hand, he does use a lot of Spanish, more so than the twins ever did. I think I fooled myself in thinking they were exposed to more Spanish than they were; I was at work all day and while it seemed like I spoke to them constantly, in fact, my words were divided among two children.
Even though I would say that his previously 60/40 English to Spanish split has eroded to something like 70/30, he is still picking up and saying new Spanish words. His passive vocabulary increases as well, but most encouragingly, he's started to code switch. That is, sometimes he will say something in English, then turn and repeat it to me in Spanish.
I still need to figure out how to expose him to more native speakers and I need to get over my awkwardness speaking Spanish to him in front of strangers.
On the other hand, he does use a lot of Spanish, more so than the twins ever did. I think I fooled myself in thinking they were exposed to more Spanish than they were; I was at work all day and while it seemed like I spoke to them constantly, in fact, my words were divided among two children.
Even though I would say that his previously 60/40 English to Spanish split has eroded to something like 70/30, he is still picking up and saying new Spanish words. His passive vocabulary increases as well, but most encouragingly, he's started to code switch. That is, sometimes he will say something in English, then turn and repeat it to me in Spanish.
I still need to figure out how to expose him to more native speakers and I need to get over my awkwardness speaking Spanish to him in front of strangers.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
As for the Title of the Last Post...
I forgot to add the coda to the previous post. The aforementioned cousin called today saying that someone else was coming to join him and could he change rooms to one with two beds? He was quite annoyed to learn that we did not have any rooms with two beds available, that in fact, we had no other rooms for him to stay in but the aforementioned room with one queen-sized bed. I wondered what would have happened if we'd happened to have a second room with one queen-sized bed but had told him that we had a two night minimum, so he couldn't book it. Given, that is, that I'm forbidden to tell him that someone else is paying for his second, unused night at the inn.
And what if he calls next year, wanting to book one night, then insists that we allowed him to do so this year?
Oh, what tangled web we weave...
And what if he calls next year, wanting to book one night, then insists that we allowed him to do so this year?
Oh, what tangled web we weave...
I Need to Change My Room
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 28 of a 737 part series
You'll remember the woman who canceled a bunch of rooms earlier this week. She was not happy that she couldn't drop the Sunday night for the one room (due to the two night weekend minimum), but decided to keep her reservation in the end, even if she wasn't going to use the second nigh. I told her that we wouldn't charge her if we ended up renting the Sunday anyway, but that's unlikely, as we still have seven or eight rooms available. The two night is designed to protect Friday night, after all, and not Sunday, not to mention the increased cost and hassle of changing over a bunch of one nighters during a busy time.
She agreed, but what she wanted us to do--and this is weird--was to just charge her brother for one night and then quietly charge her card for the second night. It was such an unorthodox situation that I sent an email asking her to confirm that we'd charge her card for the second night. Here is she responded:
yes. and you MUSTN'T, under any circumstances, let my cousin, [REDACTED], know that i'm doing this. you must also agree to keep that room available to anyone else seeking lodging for sunday night; so if, for instance, someone were to call this weekend and was told you're booked up through sunday, that wouldn't be exactly true. this is probably a situation which crops up a lot when you're dealing with a 91-year old parent, as my cousi is. and, incidentally, my mother, [REDACTED], reconsidered her cancellation due to my ailing father, and will, after all, be staying at your hotel, as will my brother and his family............sincerely, [REDACTED]
I don't know what she's talking about with the "situation which crops up a lot." This is the first time, out of roughly 2,000 room nights per year for the last four years, that we've had someone secretly pay for a second room night for someone else in order to get around the two night minimum. Sure, we have people complain about the two night minimum, but again, you're free to stay elsewhere. It's not like we've sprung this after the fact.
And I feel rather insulted by the insinuation that I would not rent that second room out if given the opportunity so as to charge them for doing nothing. I told them I would do so. As I said, we're still going to have to fill up, which is possible, but not likely.
As for the mother who cancelled and then uncancelled, it was almost too late. That was the last room we had that was available on Saturday night. (Although, sadly, I still have rooms for Friday, due to this awkward reservation.)
You'll remember the woman who canceled a bunch of rooms earlier this week. She was not happy that she couldn't drop the Sunday night for the one room (due to the two night weekend minimum), but decided to keep her reservation in the end, even if she wasn't going to use the second nigh. I told her that we wouldn't charge her if we ended up renting the Sunday anyway, but that's unlikely, as we still have seven or eight rooms available. The two night is designed to protect Friday night, after all, and not Sunday, not to mention the increased cost and hassle of changing over a bunch of one nighters during a busy time.
She agreed, but what she wanted us to do--and this is weird--was to just charge her brother for one night and then quietly charge her card for the second night. It was such an unorthodox situation that I sent an email asking her to confirm that we'd charge her card for the second night. Here is she responded:
yes. and you MUSTN'T, under any circumstances, let my cousin, [REDACTED], know that i'm doing this. you must also agree to keep that room available to anyone else seeking lodging for sunday night; so if, for instance, someone were to call this weekend and was told you're booked up through sunday, that wouldn't be exactly true. this is probably a situation which crops up a lot when you're dealing with a 91-year old parent, as my cousi is. and, incidentally, my mother, [REDACTED], reconsidered her cancellation due to my ailing father, and will, after all, be staying at your hotel, as will my brother and his family............sincerely, [REDACTED]
I don't know what she's talking about with the "situation which crops up a lot." This is the first time, out of roughly 2,000 room nights per year for the last four years, that we've had someone secretly pay for a second room night for someone else in order to get around the two night minimum. Sure, we have people complain about the two night minimum, but again, you're free to stay elsewhere. It's not like we've sprung this after the fact.
And I feel rather insulted by the insinuation that I would not rent that second room out if given the opportunity so as to charge them for doing nothing. I told them I would do so. As I said, we're still going to have to fill up, which is possible, but not likely.
As for the mother who cancelled and then uncancelled, it was almost too late. That was the last room we had that was available on Saturday night. (Although, sadly, I still have rooms for Friday, due to this awkward reservation.)
Thinking About the Remodel
I'm back to thinking about the remodel of our personal living quarters. What I want to do is tear out the back porch and put in a new living room and a master bedroom/bath. That would give the kids three bedrooms and a bathroom of their own upstairs. We'd still have the kitchen to remodel, but adding several hundred more square feet would do a great deal toward relieving overcrowding.
The problems are twofold. First, this is going to cost a lot of money. I don't have fifty grand sitting around and if I did, I always feel like I should put it toward remodeling bathrooms, replacing carpets, new siding, etc., for the money-generating parts of the inn. What I really need is a really good (read: snowy) winter so that I can do some inn-side work and have a chunk of money left over from the remodeling. Then, I can dip into some of our other money to complete the project. The last few winters have not been promising, however.
The second problem is that this remodel adds little to the value of the inn. The innkeeper quarters are perfectly adequate in size for 90% of the people who might consider buying the inn. Most of the other innkeepers in the area either have no kids or one child.
That wouldn't matter if I were sure we were going to be here for the next ten or fifteen years. I could be, but M would just as happily move out tomorrow if she could. If my book sells and does well enough that I have to pay more attention to the non-writing side of my career, we'll probably have to sell the inn regardless.
Given that, I keep thinking we should hold off. But as I've mentioned previously, the last year has gone from feeling tight to feeling positively cramped. Can I make it two or three more years without adding space?
The problems are twofold. First, this is going to cost a lot of money. I don't have fifty grand sitting around and if I did, I always feel like I should put it toward remodeling bathrooms, replacing carpets, new siding, etc., for the money-generating parts of the inn. What I really need is a really good (read: snowy) winter so that I can do some inn-side work and have a chunk of money left over from the remodeling. Then, I can dip into some of our other money to complete the project. The last few winters have not been promising, however.
The second problem is that this remodel adds little to the value of the inn. The innkeeper quarters are perfectly adequate in size for 90% of the people who might consider buying the inn. Most of the other innkeepers in the area either have no kids or one child.
That wouldn't matter if I were sure we were going to be here for the next ten or fifteen years. I could be, but M would just as happily move out tomorrow if she could. If my book sells and does well enough that I have to pay more attention to the non-writing side of my career, we'll probably have to sell the inn regardless.
Given that, I keep thinking we should hold off. But as I've mentioned previously, the last year has gone from feeling tight to feeling positively cramped. Can I make it two or three more years without adding space?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The Guillotine
I imagine as your neck is tucked into the guillotine and the blade--blood-stained, dull from overuse--is lifted high, that you feel just fine. The sun is shining, there's a festive atmosphere in the crowd below the scaffolding. The smell of roasting chestnuts fills your nostrils. Maybe you've just had a last meal of coq au vin, topped with with some camembert and a nice glass of Bordeaux. And yet that blade poised over your neck has to dampen your mood.
That's how I feel on this pleasant early fall day. The sun is shining and we served no breakfasts this morning. We've had friends to visit these last two weeks, together with a quick trip to Boston to hang out with my cousin and her boyfriend. What could be better?
But then I look at the reservation book and I see the start of two crazy weeks of foliage business. It starts Friday. Every day will be busy.
Thankfully, unlike the guillotine, I can sew my head back on once foliage ends.
That's how I feel on this pleasant early fall day. The sun is shining and we served no breakfasts this morning. We've had friends to visit these last two weeks, together with a quick trip to Boston to hang out with my cousin and her boyfriend. What could be better?
But then I look at the reservation book and I see the start of two crazy weeks of foliage business. It starts Friday. Every day will be busy.
Thankfully, unlike the guillotine, I can sew my head back on once foliage ends.
Who Cleans Hotel Rooms in Japan?
From New York Review of Books
Those who oppose enforcing laws against hiring illegal immigrants often argue that the American economy needs these workers, because they fill jobs Americans do not want. One problem with this argument is that in many parts of the United States native-born workers still do the jobs—on farms or in restaurants, for example—that immigrants do in states like California, Texas, Florida, and New York. Furthermore, while some industries in areas with a lot of immigrants do rely heavily on their labor, what most employers seem to want is an ample supply of foreign-born workers, not illegal immigrants per se.
I live in one of those areas without low-skilled, highly-motivated immigrants. And yes, I can tell you that it's a lot harder and more expensive to hire a native-born worker to clean rooms at the inn. We pay $12.00/hour, plus tips. If we had a large supply of illegals, no doubt I could get away with seven or eight dollars an hour.
So what? The cost of housekeeping probably adds a dollar or two to the cost of the room. If I lived in an area with cheap labor, I might have to worry about this vis a vis competition with other hotels. More likely, I'd be tempted to pay a lower wage just because I could.
But since the cost of labor everywhere here is high, all it means is that if you're a low-skilled laborer in Northern New England you still have a chance of earning a decent wage.
Whenever someone says the economy couldn't function without illegal immigrants, I ask who cleans hotel rooms and takes out the trash in Japan. They have expensive labor, no immigrants, and yet they seem to get by just fine. The second question I ask is why the immigrants have to be illegal. We could come up with a sensible immigration plan that invites people to the country based on what they can offer, not based on who is willing and capable to enter the country illegally and then spend years evading law enforcement.
Those who oppose enforcing laws against hiring illegal immigrants often argue that the American economy needs these workers, because they fill jobs Americans do not want. One problem with this argument is that in many parts of the United States native-born workers still do the jobs—on farms or in restaurants, for example—that immigrants do in states like California, Texas, Florida, and New York. Furthermore, while some industries in areas with a lot of immigrants do rely heavily on their labor, what most employers seem to want is an ample supply of foreign-born workers, not illegal immigrants per se.
I live in one of those areas without low-skilled, highly-motivated immigrants. And yes, I can tell you that it's a lot harder and more expensive to hire a native-born worker to clean rooms at the inn. We pay $12.00/hour, plus tips. If we had a large supply of illegals, no doubt I could get away with seven or eight dollars an hour.
So what? The cost of housekeeping probably adds a dollar or two to the cost of the room. If I lived in an area with cheap labor, I might have to worry about this vis a vis competition with other hotels. More likely, I'd be tempted to pay a lower wage just because I could.
But since the cost of labor everywhere here is high, all it means is that if you're a low-skilled laborer in Northern New England you still have a chance of earning a decent wage.
Whenever someone says the economy couldn't function without illegal immigrants, I ask who cleans hotel rooms and takes out the trash in Japan. They have expensive labor, no immigrants, and yet they seem to get by just fine. The second question I ask is why the immigrants have to be illegal. We could come up with a sensible immigration plan that invites people to the country based on what they can offer, not based on who is willing and capable to enter the country illegally and then spend years evading law enforcement.
Is it Safe?
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 27 of a 737 part series
Once, after taking a reservation, the woman asked, "I do have one more question. Is it safe?"
She'd mentioned driving up at night, so I reassured her. Of course it's safe, just stick to the freeway until you get to Route 15, then cut south. You can see our sign from the road.
"That's not what I mean," she said. "I mean, is it safe from animals? You know, bears."
Ah, bears. I get this question surprisingly often. There was an Australian girl this summer who was dying to look for moose and see the beavers at the pond but absolutely terrified of stepping into the woods. Nothing I said would change her mind. Never mind that she lives in a country filled with all sorts of dangerous and poisonous animals. She was afraid of the black bears.
I told this woman from Brooklyn that she was far more likely to be mugged on the way from her front door to her car, and beyond that, far, far more likely to get in a car accident leaving New York or on the freeways as she drove north.
This didn't assuage her fears. I told her that bear attacks are so rare that when they do happen they make the news. You're lucky to see a black bear, and if you do, it will no doubt be running from you or scrambling up a tree. In fact, more people are injured by moose than bears. Never mind that. Nobody is afraid of a moose. (Which is one reason moose occasionally kick the crap out of some careless person.)
She was still afraid. In fact, more so now that I'd confirmed that it happens. That I'd confirmed same by seeing it on the news. T.V. Now that's serious.
Personally, I'd love to see a bear. Four years up here and I haven't seen one yet. We live on an island of sorts, with the highway on one side of the property and rivers intersecting on the others. It keeps the big animals off the property.
Maybe I should put that on the web site as a selling point. "BEAR-FREE ZONE!!!"
Once, after taking a reservation, the woman asked, "I do have one more question. Is it safe?"
She'd mentioned driving up at night, so I reassured her. Of course it's safe, just stick to the freeway until you get to Route 15, then cut south. You can see our sign from the road.
"That's not what I mean," she said. "I mean, is it safe from animals? You know, bears."
Ah, bears. I get this question surprisingly often. There was an Australian girl this summer who was dying to look for moose and see the beavers at the pond but absolutely terrified of stepping into the woods. Nothing I said would change her mind. Never mind that she lives in a country filled with all sorts of dangerous and poisonous animals. She was afraid of the black bears.
I told this woman from Brooklyn that she was far more likely to be mugged on the way from her front door to her car, and beyond that, far, far more likely to get in a car accident leaving New York or on the freeways as she drove north.
This didn't assuage her fears. I told her that bear attacks are so rare that when they do happen they make the news. You're lucky to see a black bear, and if you do, it will no doubt be running from you or scrambling up a tree. In fact, more people are injured by moose than bears. Never mind that. Nobody is afraid of a moose. (Which is one reason moose occasionally kick the crap out of some careless person.)
She was still afraid. In fact, more so now that I'd confirmed that it happens. That I'd confirmed same by seeing it on the news. T.V. Now that's serious.
Personally, I'd love to see a bear. Four years up here and I haven't seen one yet. We live on an island of sorts, with the highway on one side of the property and rivers intersecting on the others. It keeps the big animals off the property.
Maybe I should put that on the web site as a selling point. "BEAR-FREE ZONE!!!"
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Winter Fuel Costs
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. consumers are expected to pay record prices for heating oil, electricity and propane to warm their homes this winter, and low-income families will need government help to cover those bills, government energy officials said on Tuesday.
Wonderful news for someone who suffers five figure energy bills, thanks to guests cranking thermostats to 80 in the winter, turning their rooms into refrigerated storage in the summer, and leaving the windows open and the lights on year round. Did I mention the outdoor hot tub?
As for "government help," the kind I'm looking for would keep us out of wars in the Middle East and support alternate energy to get us out of this continually-scarce oil trap.
Wonderful news for someone who suffers five figure energy bills, thanks to guests cranking thermostats to 80 in the winter, turning their rooms into refrigerated storage in the summer, and leaving the windows open and the lights on year round. Did I mention the outdoor hot tub?
As for "government help," the kind I'm looking for would keep us out of wars in the Middle East and support alternate energy to get us out of this continually-scarce oil trap.
Random Noise*
I've discovered after four years that it's almost impossible to predict when we will or won't have business. Snow, of course, increases business in the winter, and rain decreases it at an even greater rate. As for summer and foliage, who knows?
Case in point, we were looking suprisingly busy for midweek next week as of yesterday afternoon. Then we discovered that one reservation for two rooms for two days meant to reserve their rooms for November instead of October. Today, we took a cancellation for a four night reservation for once of the efficiencies (ouch). Take away
It's midweek, albeit foliage, so there's a chance we'll see no more reservations until next week's walk-ins. But it wouldn't surprise me if by Friday we'd taken fifteen or twenty room nights for next week.
It's even more random with walk-ins. The best predictor for walk-in business? Have others already arrived that evening? That is, if we have one walk-in, we're likely to get a second or maybe even a third. If we have none by 6:00, we're unlikely to see any.
We probably average 1 walk-in per day throughout the year, but this varies widely. It's probably 1.5 on weekends, .5 weekdays, 2 per night on a winter weekend and 3-4 during foliage.
*Speaking of noise, they're drilling through the concrete to bury a new pipe between the main building and the lodge to cure our pipe freezing problem. I hope nobody calls before they're done; M is on the cordless and there will be no way to hear the phone.
Case in point, we were looking suprisingly busy for midweek next week as of yesterday afternoon. Then we discovered that one reservation for two rooms for two days meant to reserve their rooms for November instead of October. Today, we took a cancellation for a four night reservation for once of the efficiencies (ouch). Take away
It's midweek, albeit foliage, so there's a chance we'll see no more reservations until next week's walk-ins. But it wouldn't surprise me if by Friday we'd taken fifteen or twenty room nights for next week.
It's even more random with walk-ins. The best predictor for walk-in business? Have others already arrived that evening? That is, if we have one walk-in, we're likely to get a second or maybe even a third. If we have none by 6:00, we're unlikely to see any.
We probably average 1 walk-in per day throughout the year, but this varies widely. It's probably 1.5 on weekends, .5 weekdays, 2 per night on a winter weekend and 3-4 during foliage.
*Speaking of noise, they're drilling through the concrete to bury a new pipe between the main building and the lodge to cure our pipe freezing problem. I hope nobody calls before they're done; M is on the cordless and there will be no way to hear the phone.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Tunisia II
It's official. I'm going to Tunisia. I purchased my ticket this afternoon. Oddly, I feel less nervous now that the decision has been made and is irreversible.
The flights are still not ideal. I've got a long layover in Paris on the way back. Long enough, that is, to be annoying, but not so long that I could actually go into the city and do anything. It occurred to me after the fact that I should have tried to get a flight out for the following morning instead, giving me an afternoon and evening in Paris. Chances are, I'll be exhausted and just ready to come home at that point, so it's probably for the best.
I'm most excited about visiting the Sahara, followed by the troglodyte dwellings. The Roman stuff in the north will be cool, but I just saw tons of Roman ruins in Provence this last spring. The other things are so far out of my range of experience to still be awe-inspiring.
The flights are still not ideal. I've got a long layover in Paris on the way back. Long enough, that is, to be annoying, but not so long that I could actually go into the city and do anything. It occurred to me after the fact that I should have tried to get a flight out for the following morning instead, giving me an afternoon and evening in Paris. Chances are, I'll be exhausted and just ready to come home at that point, so it's probably for the best.
I'm most excited about visiting the Sahara, followed by the troglodyte dwellings. The Roman stuff in the north will be cool, but I just saw tons of Roman ruins in Provence this last spring. The other things are so far out of my range of experience to still be awe-inspiring.
Cancellation
I just took an ugly cancellation for this weekend. We've been full for Saturday for weeks and have turned away several people looking for rooms. The reservation wasn't the greatest in the first place, being as they technically filled our 2 night weekend minimum stay by taking Saturday and Sunday. This means the Friday has a good chance of sitting empty and since Sunday has a lower rate, it means less overall money.
So the woman has four rooms for two nights. She cancelled two of them outright and wanted to reduce to a Saturday-only for one of the remaining two. She was not happy when I told her we had a two night minimum stay for weekends and couldn't make an exception for "old people" as she put it.
She was well within her rights to cancel, given that it's five nights out from the stay, which is our cutoff. We sometimes take a deposit for multi-room reservations and/or require a longer cancellation period for just this reason. It's one thing to fill one room last minute, another to struggle to fill multiple rooms. And there's nothing more frustrating than turning away business and then not being able to fill a room because of a cancellation. After all, by five days out 90% of the people who want rooms have already made their reservations.
And it's this last bit that's the most frustrating, since it's our own fault we didn't ask for it in this case. Assuming she cancels that third room sometime today or comes and pays for two nights, she's done nothing wrong.
So the woman has four rooms for two nights. She cancelled two of them outright and wanted to reduce to a Saturday-only for one of the remaining two. She was not happy when I told her we had a two night minimum stay for weekends and couldn't make an exception for "old people" as she put it.
She was well within her rights to cancel, given that it's five nights out from the stay, which is our cutoff. We sometimes take a deposit for multi-room reservations and/or require a longer cancellation period for just this reason. It's one thing to fill one room last minute, another to struggle to fill multiple rooms. And there's nothing more frustrating than turning away business and then not being able to fill a room because of a cancellation. After all, by five days out 90% of the people who want rooms have already made their reservations.
And it's this last bit that's the most frustrating, since it's our own fault we didn't ask for it in this case. Assuming she cancels that third room sometime today or comes and pays for two nights, she's done nothing wrong.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Boston
I made it back from Boston a few minutes ago. I arrived yesterday afternoon at Lis and John's house. We went out to dinner at an Indian restaurant, then came back and played a Wii bowling game and Guitar Hero for awhile.
I got out of bed very late for me at 7:45. The house was quiet and I wondered if had gone out, but turned out to still be the first one up by a good two hours. I read for awhile, then we went to a great little diner for a late breakfast. Even at the unusual brunchish time there was a waiting list. I had some tasty sweet potato pancakes.
We returned briefly to the house to eat some of L&J's yummy homemade ice cream. We then went to Cambridge, walked around a bit and stopped in a great foreign language bookstore, then I bid farewell to the city and returned to the northern wilderness.
A fun little mini-trip. Thanks, Lis and John.
I got out of bed very late for me at 7:45. The house was quiet and I wondered if had gone out, but turned out to still be the first one up by a good two hours. I read for awhile, then we went to a great little diner for a late breakfast. Even at the unusual brunchish time there was a waiting list. I had some tasty sweet potato pancakes.
We returned briefly to the house to eat some of L&J's yummy homemade ice cream. We then went to Cambridge, walked around a bit and stopped in a great foreign language bookstore, then I bid farewell to the city and returned to the northern wilderness.
A fun little mini-trip. Thanks, Lis and John.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Tunisia
I called the travel agency associated with my credit card rewards program fully intending to book my ticket to Tunisia. My rewards program offers a round trip ticket to Africa or the Middle East for 70,000 points, up to a total cost of $1,000. I'd priced tickets on Orbitz at ~$850, and figured I'd have a premium of 100-200 on top of that. I might need to pay a little, but the ticket would be essentially covered.
Because of the premium, it only makes sense to use the miles for solo trips. An extra hundred or two over the Orbitz price isn't a big deal with one ticket, but if you then have to use actual money for the other tickets, the miles become less than worthless.
In any event, I spent about ten minutes navigating the credit card's rewards system, then got my quote. $1,395.35, or about $550 more than theOrbitz price. Even using out-of-pocket as my metric, I only save about $400 off what I'd pay if I just bought the ticket outright. I tried to price different days, but that didn't help. In fact, leaving one day later meant a ticket price of over five thousand dollars. In addition, I am severely constrained as to itineraries. I have a 6 1/2 hour layover in Paris on the departure, and a 45 minute layover (obviously impossible for anyone who has flown through CDG recently with the awful construction/bus thing) on the return. Orbitz had lots of reasonable options.
The whole thing was so aggravating that I hung up without making a reservation. But I'm not sure I have a choice if I want to go to Tunisia. Some of my miles start to expire in the spring, too, so I have to use them now.
The upshot is that I'm planning to call back on Monday and book, assuming I can fix that layover thing.
Because of the premium, it only makes sense to use the miles for solo trips. An extra hundred or two over the Orbitz price isn't a big deal with one ticket, but if you then have to use actual money for the other tickets, the miles become less than worthless.
In any event, I spent about ten minutes navigating the credit card's rewards system, then got my quote. $1,395.35, or about $550 more than theOrbitz price. Even using out-of-pocket as my metric, I only save about $400 off what I'd pay if I just bought the ticket outright. I tried to price different days, but that didn't help. In fact, leaving one day later meant a ticket price of over five thousand dollars. In addition, I am severely constrained as to itineraries. I have a 6 1/2 hour layover in Paris on the departure, and a 45 minute layover (obviously impossible for anyone who has flown through CDG recently with the awful construction/bus thing) on the return. Orbitz had lots of reasonable options.
The whole thing was so aggravating that I hung up without making a reservation. But I'm not sure I have a choice if I want to go to Tunisia. Some of my miles start to expire in the spring, too, so I have to use them now.
The upshot is that I'm planning to call back on Monday and book, assuming I can fix that layover thing.
Trot Trot to Boston
I'm going to Boston this afternoon to visit my cousin and her boyfriend. Am spending the night. It's a fairly long drive for a short period of time, but I'm looking forward to taking a short break from the parenting and the inn. It would be great if M could come with me, but those are the sacrifices one makes as a parent.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Purely Optional, of Course
Passed along from a friend's blog. Feel free to post your responses (or not) in the comments. I don't usually put these sorts of things in my blog, so again, feel free to ignore and wait for the next installment of crazy guests at the inn.
1. Any not-typically-seen piercings?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you single or taken?
4. Fish?
5. Do you dream in color?
6. Ever seen a corpse?
7. Reds, blues or purples?
8. How did we meet?
9. What's your philosophy on life and death?
10. If you could take me anywhere for a day, where would we go?
11. Do you trust the police?
12. Do you like musicals?
13. What are you more public about - your sexual habits or your financial habits?
14. If you could change anything about yourself what would it be?
15. Would you cheat?
16. What are you wearing?
17. Favorite artist?
18. Would you hide evidence for me if I asked you to?
19. What would you chose to do on the last day or your life?
20. Which do you prefer - short or long hair?
21. What's your favorite day of the week?
22. What's your favorite color?
23. If you could bring back anyone who died before their time, who would it be?
24. Tell me one interesting/odd fact about you?
25. What was your first impression of me?
26. Have you ever done drugs?
27. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?
28. John or Paul?
29. Favorite thing about your oldest child (or pet)?
1. Any not-typically-seen piercings?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you single or taken?
4. Fish?
5. Do you dream in color?
6. Ever seen a corpse?
7. Reds, blues or purples?
8. How did we meet?
9. What's your philosophy on life and death?
10. If you could take me anywhere for a day, where would we go?
11. Do you trust the police?
12. Do you like musicals?
13. What are you more public about - your sexual habits or your financial habits?
14. If you could change anything about yourself what would it be?
15. Would you cheat?
16. What are you wearing?
17. Favorite artist?
18. Would you hide evidence for me if I asked you to?
19. What would you chose to do on the last day or your life?
20. Which do you prefer - short or long hair?
21. What's your favorite day of the week?
22. What's your favorite color?
23. If you could bring back anyone who died before their time, who would it be?
24. Tell me one interesting/odd fact about you?
25. What was your first impression of me?
26. Have you ever done drugs?
27. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?
28. John or Paul?
29. Favorite thing about your oldest child (or pet)?
Noise Pollution
You're not allowed to throw wrappers out the window while you drive. If your car is leaking oil or creating too much ozone they make you fix it. So why are motorcycles allowed to tool down the road throwing off a window-rattling roar? A study in France showed that a single noisy motorcycle riding through the streets of Paris after hours can wake as many as 200,000 people. How is this not pollution?
We have plenty of bikers stay at the inn and I've heard the arguments. They need that noise to let cars know they're on the road. Sure, and that's why there's a guy in the parking lot right now, revving his engine for the hell of it. That's why when we lived in Newport there were a couple of guys who'd ride around after midnight, searching for car alarms to set off. That's why you get a group of fifteen or twenty bikes rumbling down the street and it sounds like you've got a jackhammer shoved into each ear.
Other than the noise, I'm not anti-motorcycle. If they want to take the extra risks for the joy of feeling the wind in their hair and the bugs in their teeth, more pleasure to them. Don't make me pay for your spinal injury because you hate helmet laws, but again, I'm not the one putting my life on the line.
As an aside, you know if someone invented the motorcycle yesterday instead of a hundred years ago, there's no way that thing would be legal. The car itself would have trouble--what other product would we allow for 30,000 deaths a year when there is a perfectly safe alternative (trains, if we hadn't sacrificed our national rail network for the automobile culture). But a motorcycle has to be many times more dangerous than a car.
Okay, so maybe I am a little anti-motorcycle.
We have plenty of bikers stay at the inn and I've heard the arguments. They need that noise to let cars know they're on the road. Sure, and that's why there's a guy in the parking lot right now, revving his engine for the hell of it. That's why when we lived in Newport there were a couple of guys who'd ride around after midnight, searching for car alarms to set off. That's why you get a group of fifteen or twenty bikes rumbling down the street and it sounds like you've got a jackhammer shoved into each ear.
Other than the noise, I'm not anti-motorcycle. If they want to take the extra risks for the joy of feeling the wind in their hair and the bugs in their teeth, more pleasure to them. Don't make me pay for your spinal injury because you hate helmet laws, but again, I'm not the one putting my life on the line.
As an aside, you know if someone invented the motorcycle yesterday instead of a hundred years ago, there's no way that thing would be legal. The car itself would have trouble--what other product would we allow for 30,000 deaths a year when there is a perfectly safe alternative (trains, if we hadn't sacrificed our national rail network for the automobile culture). But a motorcycle has to be many times more dangerous than a car.
Okay, so maybe I am a little anti-motorcycle.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Feeder Fatigue
A goldfinch has been sitting on the empty bird feeder for the last ten minutes. No doubt complaining about the service. Every once in awhile he hops to one of the other perches to see if seeds have magically filled those holes.
I love to watch the birds, but these guys are stocking up for the migration and are eating the seed as fast as I can fill the feeder. Sometime in the last few days I just started to get really lazy. I know I'll miss all those nuthatches, goldfinches, grosbeaks, woodpeckers, etc., in about a month when all I've got is blue jays and chickadees for the next six months.
I love to watch the birds, but these guys are stocking up for the migration and are eating the seed as fast as I can fill the feeder. Sometime in the last few days I just started to get really lazy. I know I'll miss all those nuthatches, goldfinches, grosbeaks, woodpeckers, etc., in about a month when all I've got is blue jays and chickadees for the next six months.
My Troubled Relationship with Short Stories
Devon asked the very reasonable question of why I don't work on short stories while I'm waiting for my schedule to free up. The thing is, I've decided I don't like writing short stories, and I don't know if I'm any good at it.
I know that sounds funny, considering I've sold some of my shorter work, including professional level sales to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction and to The Atlantic. But I also have a long string of unsold stories, or stories printed in the small press. A small press sale isn't much more than an ego boost to me at this point.
Short stories are a lot of work for a relatively small payoff. Worse, I think they distract me from novel writing, as I get caught up in marketing, in gleaning ideas, rewriting, etc. It's taken me a long time to make any progress in this field in part, I believe, because I have not stayed focused on one thing and one thing only. That's my current plan.
I'm sure I'll write short stories again at some point in the future. But the sale would have to be darn-near guaranteed before I wrote the first word.
I know that sounds funny, considering I've sold some of my shorter work, including professional level sales to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction and to The Atlantic. But I also have a long string of unsold stories, or stories printed in the small press. A small press sale isn't much more than an ego boost to me at this point.
Short stories are a lot of work for a relatively small payoff. Worse, I think they distract me from novel writing, as I get caught up in marketing, in gleaning ideas, rewriting, etc. It's taken me a long time to make any progress in this field in part, I believe, because I have not stayed focused on one thing and one thing only. That's my current plan.
I'm sure I'll write short stories again at some point in the future. But the sale would have to be darn-near guaranteed before I wrote the first word.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
More on Scheduling
I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to schedule the first draft of my first novel. I won't be ready to start until the first of October, but M will be going to Missouri with the older kids, leaving me to solo parent a two year old for a week. Also, given that my agent has indicated a submission date of December 1 for DEVIL'S DEEP and I'll be in Tunisia for two weeks in November, October makes the most sense for any revisions of same. November has the aforementioned trip to Africa, plus Thanksgiving and a visit from M's parents. I'm planning to take the kids to Utah to visit the family in mid-December, and then there's Christmas week. So really, it will be January before I can count on 8-10 weeks without a major interruption.
I might try to deal with one interruption, but multiple interruptions?
But that means I'll be idling for three months with a story ready to be written. That's not to my liking either.
I might try to deal with one interruption, but multiple interruptions?
But that means I'll be idling for three months with a story ready to be written. That's not to my liking either.
Peak Foliage
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 26 of a 737 part series
"How close are you to the town of Chester?" the prospective guest asked. "Because I need to be in Chester at 11:25 AM on Tuesday, October 11."
Why? Well, you see the local Chamber of Commerce had predicted that October 11 at 11:25 would be peak foliage for the valley. She needed to be there at 11:25 or she'd miss it.
Never mind that there is no such thing as peak foliage. Do you mean the top of the mountain? The valley floor? Do you prefer reds or oranges and yellows? Do you prefer your colors mixed with a little green (early colors) or the point when all the green is gone, even if the early changers will have already turned brown? Oh, and how does one predict peak foliage on a hot day in July, since it's the cold weather that sets the leaves to changing?
What bothers me is the pure cynicism on the part of the Chamber of Commerce. Peak foliage is always on a Tuesday and always after Columbus Day, even though most years this is obviously past peak for this area. The reason is, we'll be full Columbus Day Weekend, no matter what, and that previous week is always busy. Putting peak foliage in the middle of the day on a Tuesday fills up both the Monday before and the Tuesday of so-called peak foliage, where we'd otherwise have plenty of available rooms.
The point is, peak foliage has little to do with the changing leaves and everything to do with a crass marketing ploy. The newspapers report our predicted peak and people plan their trips around it. And roughly 75% of the time the guests would be better served by coming the previous week.
None of that explains why this woman thought she needed to be in the middle of the town at 11:25. Heaven forbid she arrive at 11:26. By then, no doubt, the leaves would have turned black, curled up, and fallen to the ground. Bitter disappointment would ensue.
"How close are you to the town of Chester?" the prospective guest asked. "Because I need to be in Chester at 11:25 AM on Tuesday, October 11."
Why? Well, you see the local Chamber of Commerce had predicted that October 11 at 11:25 would be peak foliage for the valley. She needed to be there at 11:25 or she'd miss it.
Never mind that there is no such thing as peak foliage. Do you mean the top of the mountain? The valley floor? Do you prefer reds or oranges and yellows? Do you prefer your colors mixed with a little green (early colors) or the point when all the green is gone, even if the early changers will have already turned brown? Oh, and how does one predict peak foliage on a hot day in July, since it's the cold weather that sets the leaves to changing?
What bothers me is the pure cynicism on the part of the Chamber of Commerce. Peak foliage is always on a Tuesday and always after Columbus Day, even though most years this is obviously past peak for this area. The reason is, we'll be full Columbus Day Weekend, no matter what, and that previous week is always busy. Putting peak foliage in the middle of the day on a Tuesday fills up both the Monday before and the Tuesday of so-called peak foliage, where we'd otherwise have plenty of available rooms.
The point is, peak foliage has little to do with the changing leaves and everything to do with a crass marketing ploy. The newspapers report our predicted peak and people plan their trips around it. And roughly 75% of the time the guests would be better served by coming the previous week.
None of that explains why this woman thought she needed to be in the middle of the town at 11:25. Heaven forbid she arrive at 11:26. By then, no doubt, the leaves would have turned black, curled up, and fallen to the ground. Bitter disappointment would ensue.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Localvore Challenge
We're having a localvore challenge in the local community, which appears to have attracted about 1/6 - 1/4 of the population as participants. We've got a localvore option on our menu, which is eggs, toast, and country bacon, with local milk, plus apple cider replacing our orange juice. We're cheating on the bread a bit, which comes from a local bakery but uses out of state wheat. There's a localvore loaf offered by a local bakery, but no more loaves were available.
I think you can get carried away with this stuff. On the one hand, I think bottled water is a bad idea, both for the environmental impact and waste, but more importantly because it undermines faith in the local water systems. Worse, when the wealthy in countries with marginal public water systems--say, Mexico--buy bottled water, where is the impetus and money to upgrade the system to provide clean drinking water to the masses? Modern water and sewage systems have saved millions of lives.
I also think it makes sense to eat local produce when possible, not just during a challenge, but year round. In an era of uncertainty, when questions of fossil fuel availability make it unclear whether it will still be possible to fly apples from the other side of the world, preserving local agriculture is not just environmentally friendly, but a a failsafe against upheaval.
Having said that, we're not in a wheat growing area. To grow wheat requires heroic and expensive measures and it simply would not be possible to produce all our bread from local sources. I'm thus using one of my wildcards (the other being coffee for all but the most hardcore localvore guests) to use bread that is locally baked from wheat brought in outside the 100 mile localvore zone.
I think you can get carried away with this stuff. On the one hand, I think bottled water is a bad idea, both for the environmental impact and waste, but more importantly because it undermines faith in the local water systems. Worse, when the wealthy in countries with marginal public water systems--say, Mexico--buy bottled water, where is the impetus and money to upgrade the system to provide clean drinking water to the masses? Modern water and sewage systems have saved millions of lives.
I also think it makes sense to eat local produce when possible, not just during a challenge, but year round. In an era of uncertainty, when questions of fossil fuel availability make it unclear whether it will still be possible to fly apples from the other side of the world, preserving local agriculture is not just environmentally friendly, but a a failsafe against upheaval.
Having said that, we're not in a wheat growing area. To grow wheat requires heroic and expensive measures and it simply would not be possible to produce all our bread from local sources. I'm thus using one of my wildcards (the other being coffee for all but the most hardcore localvore guests) to use bread that is locally baked from wheat brought in outside the 100 mile localvore zone.
Monday, September 17, 2007
"Celebrity" Guest
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 25 of a 737 part series
The phone rang. Someone requesting a reservation. "This is Jack P****. Of course you know who I am."
At first I thought he meant that he was a returning guest and had made the common mistake of assuming that because he remembered me, I'd also remember him. Thing is, I have a lot more guests than he has innkeepers. So I made polite noises and took his reservation information.
Only he got ruder and ruder as I made my way through the reservation. When I asked for his credit card information, he asked what I needed that for. After all, I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. When I finished, he said, "See you in two weeks. I'll make ya famous."
Ah, so he was some sort of celebrity. I got on Google. I came up with a Civil War guy, a minor actor from the 30s and 40s, and a bunch of nobodies. I wondered if I'd heard the name right.
He was strange and paranoid when he arrived. Who was this guy? And why had he picked my inn? He called with frequent and annoying requests and then called the office late at night in a huff. He'd flushed the toilet and the chain that connects the handle to the toilet bowl stopper had disconnected. "And that's very rude and disrespectful," he said as he hung up on me.
Rude and disrespectful? Me, for not anticipating a repair before it was needed? The toilet for not respecting his celebrity status?
And then I realized. Jack P wasn't a celebrity. He was a loony.
The phone rang. Someone requesting a reservation. "This is Jack P****. Of course you know who I am."
At first I thought he meant that he was a returning guest and had made the common mistake of assuming that because he remembered me, I'd also remember him. Thing is, I have a lot more guests than he has innkeepers. So I made polite noises and took his reservation information.
Only he got ruder and ruder as I made my way through the reservation. When I asked for his credit card information, he asked what I needed that for. After all, I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. When I finished, he said, "See you in two weeks. I'll make ya famous."
Ah, so he was some sort of celebrity. I got on Google. I came up with a Civil War guy, a minor actor from the 30s and 40s, and a bunch of nobodies. I wondered if I'd heard the name right.
He was strange and paranoid when he arrived. Who was this guy? And why had he picked my inn? He called with frequent and annoying requests and then called the office late at night in a huff. He'd flushed the toilet and the chain that connects the handle to the toilet bowl stopper had disconnected. "And that's very rude and disrespectful," he said as he hung up on me.
Rude and disrespectful? Me, for not anticipating a repair before it was needed? The toilet for not respecting his celebrity status?
And then I realized. Jack P wasn't a celebrity. He was a loony.
Daycare Woes Continue
It seemed like a good plan. The little guy gets restless all day while the big kids are at school and he is desperate to join them on the bus. He loves going to playgroup and the daycare setup is much the same. We took him to the daycare to see how he'd do and he seemed to have a great time, to the point where he was excited to go back. We figured that 4-5 hours twice a week would be fun for him and let us get stuff done around here, including M's work and my writing.
Until, that is, L started to get upset when we would leave. At first he was still excited to go to daycare, but would express anxiety when we'd leave. This quickly became tears and today he was clutching M's leg, crying. All of a sudden it seems like a really bad idea and I feel guilty for enjoying a few childfree hours. And guilty, especially, because it's my time with L that has been given over to the daycare plan.
Too bad we have to pay for two full weeks once we tell them we're done, which we're going to do today.
Until, that is, L started to get upset when we would leave. At first he was still excited to go to daycare, but would express anxiety when we'd leave. This quickly became tears and today he was clutching M's leg, crying. All of a sudden it seems like a really bad idea and I feel guilty for enjoying a few childfree hours. And guilty, especially, because it's my time with L that has been given over to the daycare plan.
Too bad we have to pay for two full weeks once we tell them we're done, which we're going to do today.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Hot Tub Campers
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 24 of a 737 part series
It's 10:30 in the morning, just 1/2 hour before check-out and we have the kids from the suite camping in the hot tub. As far as I can tell, they checked in last night, ate dinner and then spent the next 3+ hours sitting in the hot tub. The kids got in 20 or 30 minutes ago. Hopefully, the parents are using the opportunity to pack the car and I'm glad it's a one night stay.
Hot tub campers are annoying at any time of the year, but at least it was a quiet weekend. In the winter, we get people who dominate the hut tub. They'll stay in until you kick them out, even when other guests make pointed comments about wanting to get in. As soon as they see the hot tub is unoccupied again, they'll return. Not only is it awkward for other guests, but when it's cold outside, the hot tub temperature will drop as soon as the lid is lifted. The heater just can't keep up. An hour or two in sub zero temperatures will cool the hot tub below 100 for the rest of the night.
Edit: M tells me that these were not our one night stand from last night, but our long term guests. Waaaa.
It's 10:30 in the morning, just 1/2 hour before check-out and we have the kids from the suite camping in the hot tub. As far as I can tell, they checked in last night, ate dinner and then spent the next 3+ hours sitting in the hot tub. The kids got in 20 or 30 minutes ago. Hopefully, the parents are using the opportunity to pack the car and I'm glad it's a one night stay.
Hot tub campers are annoying at any time of the year, but at least it was a quiet weekend. In the winter, we get people who dominate the hut tub. They'll stay in until you kick them out, even when other guests make pointed comments about wanting to get in. As soon as they see the hot tub is unoccupied again, they'll return. Not only is it awkward for other guests, but when it's cold outside, the hot tub temperature will drop as soon as the lid is lifted. The heater just can't keep up. An hour or two in sub zero temperatures will cool the hot tub below 100 for the rest of the night.
Edit: M tells me that these were not our one night stand from last night, but our long term guests. Waaaa.
Feeling Intimidated
I've traveled through Mexico and Central America, I've been to Morocco, Thailand, and several countries in Europe. Many of these trips have been by myself. So why do I still feel intimidated by the thought of traveling to Tunisia by myself? By all reports, it's easier than Morocco and most adults speak French. Should be easy, right?
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Friends Departed
Our friends left this morning and I took a look around and realized it's fall. It was warm until last weekend and then, suddenly, it cooled down and it's evident we're in for cool weather from here on out.
I trimmed my black raspberry bushes and moved my compost pile this afternoon. A state inspector had suggested we move it farther from the well. I also got a start in weeding/thinning out my strawberry bed. It produced quite poorly this year so I either need to move it or work some compost into the bed.
I have a few goals to accomplish before we hit ski season. These are much more modest than last year when we had some extra money left from a very good summer and fall.
I still have a long way to go on the brainstorming for the new novel. I'm hoping to make some good progress this upcoming week.
I trimmed my black raspberry bushes and moved my compost pile this afternoon. A state inspector had suggested we move it farther from the well. I also got a start in weeding/thinning out my strawberry bed. It produced quite poorly this year so I either need to move it or work some compost into the bed.
I have a few goals to accomplish before we hit ski season. These are much more modest than last year when we had some extra money left from a very good summer and fall.
I still have a long way to go on the brainstorming for the new novel. I'm hoping to make some good progress this upcoming week.
Friday, September 14, 2007
The Origin of Ideas
I think I can finally answer the question, "Where do you get your ideas?"
It's an infamous question asked by non-writers of writers, of course. There are glib answers, such as, "I send to a clearinghouse of ideas in Schenectady, NY, and they mail me some ideas." On the other extreme are the serious, but unsatisfying ones that amount to ideas being everywhere and anywhere and anything that a writer encounters is potential grist for the mill.
I can only speak from my own experience, but where I get ideas is fairly straightforward. It starts with a bit of dialogue or the idea of a character, or a question or interesting situation, and then it is expanded through hard work. The key is that I'm a writer, so I naturally frame events in terms of story. It's like when I learned to type, I walked around, imagining my fingers moving to type out the words I was thinking. Or perhaps a bit like learning a foreign language. If you're a good language learner, you find yourself reframing your words in the target language. As a writer, something happens and I picture it as dialogue or as part of a developing scene for a story. Some of it's natural and some of it comes from constantly working on fiction.
Every once in awhile, one of these random moments will spark my interest and I'll find myself thinking about it later. I'm usually working on something else already, so I'll file it away for later use. As an example, I read an article about a guy with locked-in syndrome who had been discovered rotting away in a long-term facility where knew that he was not really in a coma, but was suffering from locked-in syndrome. That is, he was fully aware of his surroundings and mentally alert in every way, but so profoundly paralyzed that had no way to tell the outside world he was not brain damaged. I was thinking about the horror of such a situation when I imagined such a person witnessing a crime and wondered what would happen.
This is only the beginning, of course. I need characters, I need plot. I need, well, everything that makes a story good. It used to be that my brainstorm would occur during the course of writing the novel; invariably, I wouldn't know what the book was actually about until it had been written.
I now sit down with a list of goals and expectations. I start playing around with characters. I think how they could interact. I think about plot and I ask why, why, why? Again and again. It's just brainstorming, but the end result is to slowly chip away the stone and reveal the underlying structure of my story. I've done this enough that I know when I'm making no progress and I can feel that spark when I hit on something that excites me.
The process of brainstorming, planning, and ultimately determining the book that I want to write is well known enough that I can start this from scratch. That is, even if I don't have that initial spark or germ of an idea, I can manufacture it. Fortunately, I have several plot ideas kicking around at any one time, so this isn't generally an issue. I have brainstormed from a base of nothing, however, just as a writing exercise.
It's an infamous question asked by non-writers of writers, of course. There are glib answers, such as, "I send to a clearinghouse of ideas in Schenectady, NY, and they mail me some ideas." On the other extreme are the serious, but unsatisfying ones that amount to ideas being everywhere and anywhere and anything that a writer encounters is potential grist for the mill.
I can only speak from my own experience, but where I get ideas is fairly straightforward. It starts with a bit of dialogue or the idea of a character, or a question or interesting situation, and then it is expanded through hard work. The key is that I'm a writer, so I naturally frame events in terms of story. It's like when I learned to type, I walked around, imagining my fingers moving to type out the words I was thinking. Or perhaps a bit like learning a foreign language. If you're a good language learner, you find yourself reframing your words in the target language. As a writer, something happens and I picture it as dialogue or as part of a developing scene for a story. Some of it's natural and some of it comes from constantly working on fiction.
Every once in awhile, one of these random moments will spark my interest and I'll find myself thinking about it later. I'm usually working on something else already, so I'll file it away for later use. As an example, I read an article about a guy with locked-in syndrome who had been discovered rotting away in a long-term facility where knew that he was not really in a coma, but was suffering from locked-in syndrome. That is, he was fully aware of his surroundings and mentally alert in every way, but so profoundly paralyzed that had no way to tell the outside world he was not brain damaged. I was thinking about the horror of such a situation when I imagined such a person witnessing a crime and wondered what would happen.
This is only the beginning, of course. I need characters, I need plot. I need, well, everything that makes a story good. It used to be that my brainstorm would occur during the course of writing the novel; invariably, I wouldn't know what the book was actually about until it had been written.
I now sit down with a list of goals and expectations. I start playing around with characters. I think how they could interact. I think about plot and I ask why, why, why? Again and again. It's just brainstorming, but the end result is to slowly chip away the stone and reveal the underlying structure of my story. I've done this enough that I know when I'm making no progress and I can feel that spark when I hit on something that excites me.
The process of brainstorming, planning, and ultimately determining the book that I want to write is well known enough that I can start this from scratch. That is, even if I don't have that initial spark or germ of an idea, I can manufacture it. Fortunately, I have several plot ideas kicking around at any one time, so this isn't generally an issue. I have brainstormed from a base of nothing, however, just as a writing exercise.
Local Tourist
One fun thing about having visitors is the chance to play tourist in your own backyard. With G&T in town this week with their family, we've had a chance to see some of the local sights. Here in rural northern New England, many of the sights are outdoorsy. We visited an artisanal chocolate factory yesterday, then went to a farm/museum. I'm not sure why I hadn't been before, as it's only about an hour away and has plenty for children to do and see, as well as gardens and walks.
The weather was perfect and I was a little disappointed that we didn't get a chance to explore more of the grounds. But we'd been out for awhile already and we were getting a little worried about the chocolates in the car. It was a perfect temperature, maybe seventy degrees, but also sunny and we hadn't found a good shady spot. The chocolates were okay, but it was still probably time to head back so we could get home in time for dinner.
We used to see G&T 1-3 times a week ten years or so ago. We'd alternate cooking dinner for each other on Sundays and M&T would hang out together while Grant and I attended our writing group. We'd often meet midweek to go to dinner. Distance and the growth of our families have attenuated our friendship somewhat, but whenever we get together it feels like we've picked up right where we left off. It's enough to make me consider moving back to Utah.
Apart from the time the kids have spent together this week, we've also sampled some new cheeses and wines and played a couple of games of Puerto Rico.
The weather was perfect and I was a little disappointed that we didn't get a chance to explore more of the grounds. But we'd been out for awhile already and we were getting a little worried about the chocolates in the car. It was a perfect temperature, maybe seventy degrees, but also sunny and we hadn't found a good shady spot. The chocolates were okay, but it was still probably time to head back so we could get home in time for dinner.
We used to see G&T 1-3 times a week ten years or so ago. We'd alternate cooking dinner for each other on Sundays and M&T would hang out together while Grant and I attended our writing group. We'd often meet midweek to go to dinner. Distance and the growth of our families have attenuated our friendship somewhat, but whenever we get together it feels like we've picked up right where we left off. It's enough to make me consider moving back to Utah.
Apart from the time the kids have spent together this week, we've also sampled some new cheeses and wines and played a couple of games of Puerto Rico.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Visitors
My updates to the blog will be thin this week as my friend Grant and his family are visiting the inn. Grant told me that his number one goal for the week is to avoid making the 737 part series. So far, so good.
The leaves are starting to change colors here. The Chamber of Commerce has peak foliage day scheduled for almost a month from now (like always, cynically predicted for a Tuesday so as to maximize revenue in the valley) but I don't think we're going to make it that far.
The leaves are starting to change colors here. The Chamber of Commerce has peak foliage day scheduled for almost a month from now (like always, cynically predicted for a Tuesday so as to maximize revenue in the valley) but I don't think we're going to make it that far.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Progress, Again
I've been moving forward on the brainstorms for my new novel. I've still got a couple of gaping holes, but I know what the novel is about and I can see a big set piece developing in the middle of the book. I've also got a good idea how I'm going to set down the mystery that will drive the early chapters. I've got one good character and the beginnings of two more.
It's weird to find myself in this position so soon. I used to write something, then market it. I had a couple of near misses, but they took so long to play out(as everything does in the publishing world) that my writing muscles were ice cold by the time it came time to work on something new. My last two rejections were near misses enough that I also sank into a funk that didn't help matters any.
But at the moment I've still got THE RIGHTEOUS on submission and I've just sent in THE DEVIL'S DEEP. The characters of these two books are still fresh in my mind and I still find myself thinking about favorite scenes or bits of dialogue, and yet here I am again, already gearing up for the next book. It's a completely alien experience for me.
And yet I'm enjoying it. I'm just as excited about this next book as I was the last two and I can feel myself growing stronger. Hard to believe after so many years that I've made so much progress just in the last twelve months. And I know that I can sustain a career once I get that contract, that I won't find my ideas shriveling up or my enthusiasm diminishing. I can and I will keep producing on a regular basis.
I can't control when an offer comes through for my book, or the pace of my submissions. But I can keep writing and I can keep growing stronger as a writer. Soon, very soon, I'll take that next step and the world will take note.
And that's my expression of confidence for today, to keep me motivated while I continue my assault on the might fortress that is the publishing world.
It's weird to find myself in this position so soon. I used to write something, then market it. I had a couple of near misses, but they took so long to play out(as everything does in the publishing world) that my writing muscles were ice cold by the time it came time to work on something new. My last two rejections were near misses enough that I also sank into a funk that didn't help matters any.
But at the moment I've still got THE RIGHTEOUS on submission and I've just sent in THE DEVIL'S DEEP. The characters of these two books are still fresh in my mind and I still find myself thinking about favorite scenes or bits of dialogue, and yet here I am again, already gearing up for the next book. It's a completely alien experience for me.
And yet I'm enjoying it. I'm just as excited about this next book as I was the last two and I can feel myself growing stronger. Hard to believe after so many years that I've made so much progress just in the last twelve months. And I know that I can sustain a career once I get that contract, that I won't find my ideas shriveling up or my enthusiasm diminishing. I can and I will keep producing on a regular basis.
I can't control when an offer comes through for my book, or the pace of my submissions. But I can keep writing and I can keep growing stronger as a writer. Soon, very soon, I'll take that next step and the world will take note.
And that's my expression of confidence for today, to keep me motivated while I continue my assault on the might fortress that is the publishing world.
The Rain Returns
We're supposed to get ~2 inches of rain today. Just in time for day out with our friends. Yay.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
I Need a Married Man
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 23 of a 737 part series
You'll remember the story from before I started this series about the drunk woman who called, saying, "I need a married man to f***."
These guests are regulars, part of a work crew that comes into the area to cut hay and harvest corn. And then there is the self-proclaimed Shit Crew, who are manure spreaders. Yes, the room is fun to clean after they leave.
So they're back, staying in the efficiency above the hot tub, directly across from our bedroom. I heard voices last night from the back deck at about 11:00. Thinking it might be someone trying to get in the hot tub after hours, I went to the window to see what was going on. Two very skanky looking women were climbing the stairs to these guys' room. They knocked on the door and made their way inside.
I wouldn't have thought it possible to hire a prostitute anywhere within fifty or a hundred miles of this place, but that's just what these two women looked like.
It reminds me of a couple of dodgy places I've stayed in where I noted with alarm the disclaimer they forced me to sign at check-in, assuring that I was not using the room for prostitution or drug deals. That makes one double bolt the door, doesn't it?
In any event, it never would have occurred to me that we'd face the same problem at the inn. I hate to say something, though, because there's a chance that it's some roll-playing with these guys' wives. That's what I thought after the, "I need a married man to f***" call. Maybe (hopefully) it was just his wife being playful.
But then again, maybe not.
You'll remember the story from before I started this series about the drunk woman who called, saying, "I need a married man to f***."
These guests are regulars, part of a work crew that comes into the area to cut hay and harvest corn. And then there is the self-proclaimed Shit Crew, who are manure spreaders. Yes, the room is fun to clean after they leave.
So they're back, staying in the efficiency above the hot tub, directly across from our bedroom. I heard voices last night from the back deck at about 11:00. Thinking it might be someone trying to get in the hot tub after hours, I went to the window to see what was going on. Two very skanky looking women were climbing the stairs to these guys' room. They knocked on the door and made their way inside.
I wouldn't have thought it possible to hire a prostitute anywhere within fifty or a hundred miles of this place, but that's just what these two women looked like.
It reminds me of a couple of dodgy places I've stayed in where I noted with alarm the disclaimer they forced me to sign at check-in, assuring that I was not using the room for prostitution or drug deals. That makes one double bolt the door, doesn't it?
In any event, it never would have occurred to me that we'd face the same problem at the inn. I hate to say something, though, because there's a chance that it's some roll-playing with these guys' wives. That's what I thought after the, "I need a married man to f***" call. Maybe (hopefully) it was just his wife being playful.
But then again, maybe not.
Late Check-outs and Early Check-ins
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 22 of a 737 part series
Every weekend there is at least one person who wants a late check-out or early check-in. We have some people arriving tonight who wanted to check out multiple rooms at 3:00 because they're going to a baptism and wanted to leave the dogs in the room until they get back. Our housekeeper is gone by then, not to mention that since check-in is any time after 3:00 we'd have to take those rooms offline for the night.
Sometimes we get someone who wants an early check-in and a late check-out on the same stay, and then is put out when we can't accommodate their request. There are also people who simply do not check out and when we go in at noon to clean the room find that their stuff is all still in the room--often, not even packed up--and they planned to come back after a day of skiing, shower, and then check out. I need to be more of a hard case about these people.
As for early check-ins, they don't usually give us a warning, just show up several hours before the check-in time on their confirmation. I give them the room if it's available and deal with their disbelief when it's not ready yet.
A couple showed up one morning a couple of years ago at 8:30 in the morning while we were serving breakfast, wanting to check in already. I looked at the book and saw that their room was, indeed, available, and so I checked them in, against my better judgement, then went back to breakfast. We go out a few minutes later and there they are, sitting in the dining room with coffee and muffins. "Uhm, can I get the pecan waffles?" she asked. He said, "I'd like the scrambled eggs with sausage and wheat toast."
"But you said breakfast was included," they complained when we balked.
Yes, but for tomorrow.
Every weekend there is at least one person who wants a late check-out or early check-in. We have some people arriving tonight who wanted to check out multiple rooms at 3:00 because they're going to a baptism and wanted to leave the dogs in the room until they get back. Our housekeeper is gone by then, not to mention that since check-in is any time after 3:00 we'd have to take those rooms offline for the night.
Sometimes we get someone who wants an early check-in and a late check-out on the same stay, and then is put out when we can't accommodate their request. There are also people who simply do not check out and when we go in at noon to clean the room find that their stuff is all still in the room--often, not even packed up--and they planned to come back after a day of skiing, shower, and then check out. I need to be more of a hard case about these people.
As for early check-ins, they don't usually give us a warning, just show up several hours before the check-in time on their confirmation. I give them the room if it's available and deal with their disbelief when it's not ready yet.
A couple showed up one morning a couple of years ago at 8:30 in the morning while we were serving breakfast, wanting to check in already. I looked at the book and saw that their room was, indeed, available, and so I checked them in, against my better judgement, then went back to breakfast. We go out a few minutes later and there they are, sitting in the dining room with coffee and muffins. "Uhm, can I get the pecan waffles?" she asked. He said, "I'd like the scrambled eggs with sausage and wheat toast."
"But you said breakfast was included," they complained when we balked.
Yes, but for tomorrow.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Daycare
The little guy went to day care today for the first time. He's only there for a half day two days a week, but I felt unexpectedly bad about sending him off. Normally, it's my responsibility to watch him in the mornings while M does her work.
We decided to send him to part-time daycare in part for our own schedules. My energy level is much higher in the AM and I'm just a better, faster writer if I finish my word count by lunch. Mondays and Fridays are the weekdays most likely to have a lot of inn breakfasts, so it made sense to choose these two days. L also got very upset when the older kids took off on the bus last week and is still unhappy to see it take off without him.
They said he did great. He was delighted to arrive and take a look around, although he did whine briefly when M left. Is it this feeling that he's not 100% happy about the daycare that has me conflicted? I take off a couple of times a year on trips and while I miss the kids, they're with M, so I don't feel particularly guilty.
And then there's the Spanish. I speak to L exclusively in Spanish as I did with the twins when they were younger. The twins never spoke much Spanish, although they understood it just fine. I always felt self-conscious speaking Spanish to them in front of other people and when we moved to Vermont, I just gave it up. Four years later and they speak and understand almost nothing.
L, on the other hand, already speaks numerous words in Spanish, many of which he hasn't yet learned the equivalent in English. His vocabulary is probably 40/60 Spanish and English. The obvious reason why he speaks so much more than the twins did at his age is because I spend much more time with him. No office job. Just the two of us for hours at a time.
So what happens when I put him in daycare during prime Daddy time? Obviously, his English improves at the expense of his Spanish. If there's any hope of raising him bilingual, I've got to find a way to immerse him periodically in Spanish.
We decided to send him to part-time daycare in part for our own schedules. My energy level is much higher in the AM and I'm just a better, faster writer if I finish my word count by lunch. Mondays and Fridays are the weekdays most likely to have a lot of inn breakfasts, so it made sense to choose these two days. L also got very upset when the older kids took off on the bus last week and is still unhappy to see it take off without him.
They said he did great. He was delighted to arrive and take a look around, although he did whine briefly when M left. Is it this feeling that he's not 100% happy about the daycare that has me conflicted? I take off a couple of times a year on trips and while I miss the kids, they're with M, so I don't feel particularly guilty.
And then there's the Spanish. I speak to L exclusively in Spanish as I did with the twins when they were younger. The twins never spoke much Spanish, although they understood it just fine. I always felt self-conscious speaking Spanish to them in front of other people and when we moved to Vermont, I just gave it up. Four years later and they speak and understand almost nothing.
L, on the other hand, already speaks numerous words in Spanish, many of which he hasn't yet learned the equivalent in English. His vocabulary is probably 40/60 Spanish and English. The obvious reason why he speaks so much more than the twins did at his age is because I spend much more time with him. No office job. Just the two of us for hours at a time.
So what happens when I put him in daycare during prime Daddy time? Obviously, his English improves at the expense of his Spanish. If there's any hope of raising him bilingual, I've got to find a way to immerse him periodically in Spanish.
Weather Report
So if weather is one of those subjects that's guaranteed to kill momentum in fiction, why is it that in real life we find it endlessly fascinating to talk about the weather? Oh, not other people's weather, per se, but to prattle on about the snow or the rain, or, in this case, the dry weather.
I can't believe how long I went without noticing that it is really dry up here. Within a few days of my belated observation, the grass is turning brown everywhere. It's supposed to rain in a few days.
It was fairly hot today, perhaps mid-80s, but we drop about ten degrees tomorrow and we're back to the 70/50 thing for the near future. Given that we're already approaching mid-September, I'm guessing that today was the last hot day of the year.
And there's my report designed to kill your interest in the blog.
I can't believe how long I went without noticing that it is really dry up here. Within a few days of my belated observation, the grass is turning brown everywhere. It's supposed to rain in a few days.
It was fairly hot today, perhaps mid-80s, but we drop about ten degrees tomorrow and we're back to the 70/50 thing for the near future. Given that we're already approaching mid-September, I'm guessing that today was the last hot day of the year.
And there's my report designed to kill your interest in the blog.
NEWSFLASH! Humans Smarter than Apes
But not so smart that we don't write headlines and leads like the following:
Toddler Study Proves Humans Outsmart Apes
THURSDAY, Sept. 6 (HealthDay News) -- For those needing evidence that humans are brainier than the average ape, there's a new study showing that toddlers are better at "social learning," compared to adult primates.
When presented with a tube containing food or a toy, two-and-a-half-year-olds followed an experimenter's example to retrieve the prize, while the apes put all their energy towards simply biting or breaking the tube.
Humans differ from the great apes because their brains are about triple the size of their closest primate cousins. Human brains have also developed language, symbolic math and scientific reasoning skills.
Silly me, I thought that fire, language, the pyramids, the wheel, and the lunar lander were evidence enough that we're smarter than apes. Oh, and the brain thing.
I'm not saying the study was a waste of time, just that the article describing same makes me scratch my head. (Which takes a surprisingly long time since my head contains three times as much cranial capacity as an ape's)
Toddler Study Proves Humans Outsmart Apes
THURSDAY, Sept. 6 (HealthDay News) -- For those needing evidence that humans are brainier than the average ape, there's a new study showing that toddlers are better at "social learning," compared to adult primates.
When presented with a tube containing food or a toy, two-and-a-half-year-olds followed an experimenter's example to retrieve the prize, while the apes put all their energy towards simply biting or breaking the tube.
Humans differ from the great apes because their brains are about triple the size of their closest primate cousins. Human brains have also developed language, symbolic math and scientific reasoning skills.
Silly me, I thought that fire, language, the pyramids, the wheel, and the lunar lander were evidence enough that we're smarter than apes. Oh, and the brain thing.
I'm not saying the study was a waste of time, just that the article describing same makes me scratch my head. (Which takes a surprisingly long time since my head contains three times as much cranial capacity as an ape's)
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Five Years
I read somewhere that the average owner of a B&B or country inn lasts only five years. I can see that. It's easy to get burned out and to have your vision of being a welcoming, gracious host overwhelmed by the occasional greedy, demanding lout. Combine that with lack of privacy, loss of weekends and holidays, and the exhaustion of being on call 24/7 and it's no wonder people burn out.
I came across an ad in the paper today for a software engineer position for which I am qualified and briefly entertained the thought of going back to the corporate world. And then I thought about spending 40 hours in a cubicle and about going back to two weeks of vacation. I thought about all the time I spend with kids, and how I can set out in the middle of the day for a walk around the beaver pond. I thought about the slow times during the year that let me write or go study French in France.
I'm a restless person by nature, and there's little chance I'll be here fifteen or twenty years from now. But when I leave this place, it will have to be for something better. A cubicle ain't it.
I came across an ad in the paper today for a software engineer position for which I am qualified and briefly entertained the thought of going back to the corporate world. And then I thought about spending 40 hours in a cubicle and about going back to two weeks of vacation. I thought about all the time I spend with kids, and how I can set out in the middle of the day for a walk around the beaver pond. I thought about the slow times during the year that let me write or go study French in France.
I'm a restless person by nature, and there's little chance I'll be here fifteen or twenty years from now. But when I leave this place, it will have to be for something better. A cubicle ain't it.
Dry
I don't think I would have thought about how long it's been since it has rained here if the grass hadn't started to brown in places. I don't think I've ever seen browning grass in the four summers that we've been here. Naturally, with our friends coming for a week, starting this Saturday, rain is in the forecast for Monday and Tuesday.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Arroz Con Leche
I made arroz con leche the other day and have some leftover milk/cinnamon/sugar mix so I'm going to make another batch. This is a very easy and surprisingly tasty dessert and a great way to use leftover rice.
Put your rice in a pan and fill to the rice level with a milk/sugar/cinnamon mixture that is approximately 2:1 ratio of milk to sugar. When it boils, add about a cup of this mixture to 2-4 egg yolks, lightly whisked. Take this mixture and stir it back into the main pan. Add a tablespoon or so of butter. Simmer for about thirty minutes. Remove, cool slightly, then stir in some raisins. You can either eat it warm or chilled. Either way, it's good.
(Sorry, I know this isn't a great recipe for those who follow things by the letter, but I don't usually cook with a recipe)
Put your rice in a pan and fill to the rice level with a milk/sugar/cinnamon mixture that is approximately 2:1 ratio of milk to sugar. When it boils, add about a cup of this mixture to 2-4 egg yolks, lightly whisked. Take this mixture and stir it back into the main pan. Add a tablespoon or so of butter. Simmer for about thirty minutes. Remove, cool slightly, then stir in some raisins. You can either eat it warm or chilled. Either way, it's good.
(Sorry, I know this isn't a great recipe for those who follow things by the letter, but I don't usually cook with a recipe)
Cooking the Grass
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 21 of a 737 part series
M noticed that someone had moved the picnic table over the weekend. As she walked closer, she saw that they'd done in a clumsy attempt to hide where they'd barbequed a big hole in the grass. This is pretty typical behavior for when people damage things.
I can't remember every having someone come and say, "Oops, I broke this. How much do I owe you for a new thus-and-such?" I'd probably be so startled that I'd wave it off.
Instead, people have two very effective tactics. First, they claim that they came into the room and discovered thus-and-such broken. Probably they did, but I'm sure that sometimes people do so to cover their tracks. Second, and more commonly, they try to hide the damage by moving something or hiding it or throwing it away. The problem is, it usually works. Not for long, of course, but by the time I notice, it's almost impossible to tell who caused the damage.
I try to take a philosophical attitude. Things break. Sometimes, they break when you're not even screwing around. I'm less mellow when someone crushes my lamp post (again!) or damages a $400 hot tub cover because they didn't listen to my very clear instructions for how to take it off and put it back on. And no, nobody will tell me when they hit the lamp post so hard as to knock over the stone wall and bend the post completely over.
M noticed that someone had moved the picnic table over the weekend. As she walked closer, she saw that they'd done in a clumsy attempt to hide where they'd barbequed a big hole in the grass. This is pretty typical behavior for when people damage things.
I can't remember every having someone come and say, "Oops, I broke this. How much do I owe you for a new thus-and-such?" I'd probably be so startled that I'd wave it off.
Instead, people have two very effective tactics. First, they claim that they came into the room and discovered thus-and-such broken. Probably they did, but I'm sure that sometimes people do so to cover their tracks. Second, and more commonly, they try to hide the damage by moving something or hiding it or throwing it away. The problem is, it usually works. Not for long, of course, but by the time I notice, it's almost impossible to tell who caused the damage.
I try to take a philosophical attitude. Things break. Sometimes, they break when you're not even screwing around. I'm less mellow when someone crushes my lamp post (again!) or damages a $400 hot tub cover because they didn't listen to my very clear instructions for how to take it off and put it back on. And no, nobody will tell me when they hit the lamp post so hard as to knock over the stone wall and bend the post completely over.
Scheduling
I'm having a hard time figuring out how to schedule the next novel. If I put my mind to it, I could spend 6 weeks brainstorming, 10 weeks writing the first draft, and 8 weeks in revisions. The only thing is, I need that 10 week first draft to be uninterupted by crazy inn times or travel. As I've noted elsewhere, I need to work every single day during that draft period.
Only I'm still several weeks away from fleshing out my current idea enough to start a first draft, and then I'm planning to go somewhere (Tunisia?) in November. That means that I can't start my draft until mid-November and it will be really tough continuing to write through Christmas week when things are nuts here at the inn.
In any event, the beginning of my draft would be roughly 10 weeks in the future, which lends itself to a certain laziness in the present.
Only I'm still several weeks away from fleshing out my current idea enough to start a first draft, and then I'm planning to go somewhere (Tunisia?) in November. That means that I can't start my draft until mid-November and it will be really tough continuing to write through Christmas week when things are nuts here at the inn.
In any event, the beginning of my draft would be roughly 10 weeks in the future, which lends itself to a certain laziness in the present.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
But HOW much?
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 20 of a 737 part series
One of my least favorite regulars is here. I like most repeat guests, but this is one of those guys who is mildly annoying until you have to deal with him regularly. This guy is one of those types who count the number of rooms at the inn, count the price per night, and multiply it by 365 and think, "Wow, this guy is making a killing. And all he has to do is cook a few breakfasts. Oh, and his overhead must be almost zero."
Overlook for a moment our crowded living quarters that belie our wealthy status, or the niggling details like a SBA loan, an $11,500 property tax bill, linens, energy costs to allow people to sleep with their windows open in August and January while their AC/heat is cranked up. It's just annoying when strangers say, "So what's your gross here anyway?"
This guy is one of about ten guests who've asked what we paid for the inn. Most do it in a roundabout way and don't press it when I deflect their question. But not Jack.
Jack: "So what's a place like this go for, anyway?"
Michael: "Oh, pretty expensive. Real estate up here, you know..."
Jack: "But, what're we talking about?"
Michael: "I don't know, but I think there's another inn in the valley for sale. You could check it out. That would give you a better idea."
Jack: "Well, what did you pay for this place? I mean, dollar figure. How much was it?"
It went around like this for awhile. No dollar figure came out of my mouth.
One of my least favorite regulars is here. I like most repeat guests, but this is one of those guys who is mildly annoying until you have to deal with him regularly. This guy is one of those types who count the number of rooms at the inn, count the price per night, and multiply it by 365 and think, "Wow, this guy is making a killing. And all he has to do is cook a few breakfasts. Oh, and his overhead must be almost zero."
Overlook for a moment our crowded living quarters that belie our wealthy status, or the niggling details like a SBA loan, an $11,500 property tax bill, linens, energy costs to allow people to sleep with their windows open in August and January while their AC/heat is cranked up. It's just annoying when strangers say, "So what's your gross here anyway?"
This guy is one of about ten guests who've asked what we paid for the inn. Most do it in a roundabout way and don't press it when I deflect their question. But not Jack.
Jack: "So what's a place like this go for, anyway?"
Michael: "Oh, pretty expensive. Real estate up here, you know..."
Jack: "But, what're we talking about?"
Michael: "I don't know, but I think there's another inn in the valley for sale. You could check it out. That would give you a better idea."
Jack: "Well, what did you pay for this place? I mean, dollar figure. How much was it?"
It went around like this for awhile. No dollar figure came out of my mouth.
Monday, September 3, 2007
"What a Quiet House," Said Peter
Back to the swish of the leaves and the sound of the wind here as our massive crowd of bikers have moved out. We have four or five rooms tonight, but in comparison it's very tranquil. Hot tub got a lot of use this weekend, though, so we'll have to drain it, clean it, and refill it before our friends G&T arrive this weekend.
September is one of my favorite months of the year. It's bookended by two very busy weekends, so we take in a decent amount of money. But the middle part of the month is slow, allowing us to catch our breath and gear up for foliage. The weather is great and the farmer's market and other attractions are still open.
We have two other slow periods of the year: April-May and mid-October to mid-December. But the weather is cold and rainy, there are few leaves on the trees, and they're so long without business that the bank account seems to shrivel before my eyes.
I'll take September.
September is one of my favorite months of the year. It's bookended by two very busy weekends, so we take in a decent amount of money. But the middle part of the month is slow, allowing us to catch our breath and gear up for foliage. The weather is great and the farmer's market and other attractions are still open.
We have two other slow periods of the year: April-May and mid-October to mid-December. But the weather is cold and rainy, there are few leaves on the trees, and they're so long without business that the bank account seems to shrivel before my eyes.
I'll take September.
Walks
It's probably good for my health, my weight, and my writing that the weather has turned so pleasant, encouraging me to take daily walks around the beaver pond again. It wasn't overly hot, per se, this summer, but the best time for me to take a walk is around noon - 2:00, when the little guy is napping. Even at 75, if there's direct sun overhead, I find it a little warm. Now that the temps are in the upper sixties, it's perfect for me.
Some of my most important thoughts about a new novel come not while I'm in front of the computer, but when I'm lying in bed in the morning or in the shower. But the best way of all to induce thoughts (when I can keep my mind focused) is to take a walk of 1/2 hour or so. The beaver pond is ideal for this.;
Some of my most important thoughts about a new novel come not while I'm in front of the computer, but when I'm lying in bed in the morning or in the shower. But the best way of all to induce thoughts (when I can keep my mind focused) is to take a walk of 1/2 hour or so. The beaver pond is ideal for this.;
Sunday, September 2, 2007
But My Wife Has CANCER
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 19 of a 737 part series
We had a door rattler this morning at 6:05, as I was blearily trying to prepare for breakfast. These are people who come up to the front door, see the closed sign and still try to open the door. Sometimes people come peer in the windows, or dial the office to ask when we'll open. They want to come in and sit and promise they won't be a bother. Of course, they are, as they want to chat, or simply just unintentionally get in the way. We stay open late enough, deal with enough after-hours calls that we need every minute in the morning to get ready.
Two years ago, a guy showed up at check-in and started asking for all sorts of favors, adding as a non-sequiter, "Because my wife has cancer." He wanted extra towels, needed us to move a fridge to his room, make his reservations at restaurants, etc., because his wife had cancer. She was not usually present when he made this request. It struck me as odd, but hey, no big deal. We get all types.
So early in the morning, I'm getting ready and I hear this guy giving the front doors a big shake. He comes around to the window and peers in. I keep working, ignoring him as I figure he'll get the clue. He does not.
A minute later and he's at the doors again and this time he's throwing his shoulder into it like a battering ram. Bang! Bang! Bang! The asshole is staring face to face with the closed sign and he still cannot get it through his skull that we're NOT OPEN.
And I'll be damned, but the doors start buckling inward and I think the deadbolt that hold them in place is going to break loose. I open the doors and he comes staggering in mid-assault.
It was one of the handful of times I've lost my temper. "What are you doing?! We're CLOSED!"
He stared at me insolently. First thing out of his mouth, I kid you not: "My wife has cancer and I won't be made to feel sorry for it."
We had a door rattler this morning at 6:05, as I was blearily trying to prepare for breakfast. These are people who come up to the front door, see the closed sign and still try to open the door. Sometimes people come peer in the windows, or dial the office to ask when we'll open. They want to come in and sit and promise they won't be a bother. Of course, they are, as they want to chat, or simply just unintentionally get in the way. We stay open late enough, deal with enough after-hours calls that we need every minute in the morning to get ready.
Two years ago, a guy showed up at check-in and started asking for all sorts of favors, adding as a non-sequiter, "Because my wife has cancer." He wanted extra towels, needed us to move a fridge to his room, make his reservations at restaurants, etc., because his wife had cancer. She was not usually present when he made this request. It struck me as odd, but hey, no big deal. We get all types.
So early in the morning, I'm getting ready and I hear this guy giving the front doors a big shake. He comes around to the window and peers in. I keep working, ignoring him as I figure he'll get the clue. He does not.
A minute later and he's at the doors again and this time he's throwing his shoulder into it like a battering ram. Bang! Bang! Bang! The asshole is staring face to face with the closed sign and he still cannot get it through his skull that we're NOT OPEN.
And I'll be damned, but the doors start buckling inward and I think the deadbolt that hold them in place is going to break loose. I open the doors and he comes staggering in mid-assault.
It was one of the handful of times I've lost my temper. "What are you doing?! We're CLOSED!"
He stared at me insolently. First thing out of his mouth, I kid you not: "My wife has cancer and I won't be made to feel sorry for it."
God's Silence
Pope Benedict said on Saturday that even the late Mother Teresa of Calcutta "suffered from the silence of God" despite her immense charity and faith.
Why? Why does God do this? I've suffered "the silence of God" myself and the only conclusion I can reasonably come to is that if God wants me to follow Him, He will speak up. If He doesn't, I must conclude one of the following:
1. God does not exist
2. God is toying with me
3. God is not what people think He is. Maybe the being who created the universe is not capable of communicating on an individual basis. Maybe He died a long time ago or passed into a different existence. Maybe He set the universe in motion and moved on to other projects. Maybe he has better things to do than note the passing of every single sparrow. Etc.
Why? Why does God do this? I've suffered "the silence of God" myself and the only conclusion I can reasonably come to is that if God wants me to follow Him, He will speak up. If He doesn't, I must conclude one of the following:
1. God does not exist
2. God is toying with me
3. God is not what people think He is. Maybe the being who created the universe is not capable of communicating on an individual basis. Maybe He died a long time ago or passed into a different existence. Maybe He set the universe in motion and moved on to other projects. Maybe he has better things to do than note the passing of every single sparrow. Etc.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
No Reservations
Crazy Things Guests Say and Do: Part 18 of a 737 part series
We're stuffed to the gills because of multiple events in the area, combined with a three day weekend. A woman showed up last night after almost everyone had checked in and gave us her name. Not in our records. Is there another name it could be under?
"No, but I have a confirmation number."
We don't give out confirmation numbers, but she was insistent, so she went to her car to get the confirmation. It turns out that she had made an availability request through a service that we use for our web site. I went to the computer and printed up the reply that I'd sent her almost immediately saying that we wouldn't be able to take the reservation because we had a three night minimum for the holiday weekend*.
It's after nine at night, the area hotels are more or less full and she, her husband, and her 2 year old daughter have no room. She's very upset and blames us. She keeps saying that she input her credit card information and got a reservation number. Now, the reservation service very clearly says this is a request only and you need to wait until you get an actual confirmation. In addition, in playing with the system this morning, I confirmed that it sends out an immediate response saying that this is not an actual reservation.
It's important to keep all these caveats because we're a small place and it would be easy to get invalid requests between the time it takes us to update the page that says we're full and when someone clicks send on the web page. There are systems you can buy that will handle this but they are ridiculously expensive and would be incompatible with the version shared and displayed by other members of the local Chamber of Commerce where we get a lot of our referrals.
She was very upset, but to her credit, she stopped blaming us after awhile, realizing, I think, that if she'd checked either the initial automatic response or my quick reply telling her sorry, we couldn't take it, that she wouldn't be in this situation. It helped, too, that we spent the next half hour scouring a twenty mile radius until we found her a room.
*I know the minimum stay requirement can be annoying when you're trying to reserve a hotel room. The thing is, if I take a Saturday night only, Friday will almost certainly sit empty. Same goes for Sunday night on a three day weekend. We can't save our inventory. It expires every night.
And the sad fact is, in the hospitality business, it seems like we've either got a dozen rooms empty or we're turning away people right and left for lack of available space. For this same reason you'll pay twice as much for a room during Christmas week as for a Tuesday night in May. It sucks, but there's no other way to stay in business.
We're stuffed to the gills because of multiple events in the area, combined with a three day weekend. A woman showed up last night after almost everyone had checked in and gave us her name. Not in our records. Is there another name it could be under?
"No, but I have a confirmation number."
We don't give out confirmation numbers, but she was insistent, so she went to her car to get the confirmation. It turns out that she had made an availability request through a service that we use for our web site. I went to the computer and printed up the reply that I'd sent her almost immediately saying that we wouldn't be able to take the reservation because we had a three night minimum for the holiday weekend*.
It's after nine at night, the area hotels are more or less full and she, her husband, and her 2 year old daughter have no room. She's very upset and blames us. She keeps saying that she input her credit card information and got a reservation number. Now, the reservation service very clearly says this is a request only and you need to wait until you get an actual confirmation. In addition, in playing with the system this morning, I confirmed that it sends out an immediate response saying that this is not an actual reservation.
It's important to keep all these caveats because we're a small place and it would be easy to get invalid requests between the time it takes us to update the page that says we're full and when someone clicks send on the web page. There are systems you can buy that will handle this but they are ridiculously expensive and would be incompatible with the version shared and displayed by other members of the local Chamber of Commerce where we get a lot of our referrals.
She was very upset, but to her credit, she stopped blaming us after awhile, realizing, I think, that if she'd checked either the initial automatic response or my quick reply telling her sorry, we couldn't take it, that she wouldn't be in this situation. It helped, too, that we spent the next half hour scouring a twenty mile radius until we found her a room.
*I know the minimum stay requirement can be annoying when you're trying to reserve a hotel room. The thing is, if I take a Saturday night only, Friday will almost certainly sit empty. Same goes for Sunday night on a three day weekend. We can't save our inventory. It expires every night.
And the sad fact is, in the hospitality business, it seems like we've either got a dozen rooms empty or we're turning away people right and left for lack of available space. For this same reason you'll pay twice as much for a room during Christmas week as for a Tuesday night in May. It sucks, but there's no other way to stay in business.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
