Wow. So to preface this story, I need to take you all on a little journey into my past. Pretend that I am the ghost of Christmas past, and instead of coming to haunt you, I'm actually just taking myself back in time-(only I'm also bringing a webcam and you just happen to be watching from your living rooms). Growing up, I was always fairly tall, but my metabolism was always running at such a freakish rate, that I never really "filled into my body" until my mission (at which time, my body decided to make up for lost time and poor on the weight, but that's another story). I enjoyed an active lifestyle as a kid. I didn't have a "gaming system" so most of my time was spent walking to and from school, playing sports, roller blading, roller blading to play sports, etcetera etcetera etcetera. In High School, I was in really good shape, with Soccer, running from bullies, getting cut from the basketball team, those sorts of things. I thought I had a six pack, but then realized in was more of a 4 pack with an exposed Rib Cage on top. Prior to entering the mission field I spent my freshman year of college staying in shape by walking to and from campus (when I had occasion to get to class that is) and honing my bball skills in the Richards Building. The Metabolism was still going strong entering my 19th year on this earth. Regardless, I was still a lanky 165 lb-6 footer. After my mission I returned to my "active lifestyle" after a rec center basketball injury brought on a hellish 6 weeks of crutches, gangrene, and physical therapy. The only difference is that I was now a 205 lb-6 foot dough boy. Well, thanks to a reunion with my friends and the Richards Building, as well as a return diet of Ramen Noodles, Crystal Light and Betos, I began to lose the mission weight and the part in my hair (also a different story). In the five years since returning home, I have remained as active as possible, but something has changed. My body doesn't seem to withstand 3, 4, and 5 hours of sport at one time as it did in the past. My body doesn't react well when I go out and run without stretching as it did in the past. And my four pack with ribs, has been replaced with a mini-keg and stretch marks (ok, that's a slight exaggeration, but not by much). Ahh, the ghost of Christmas past is a cruel cruel spirit.
Anyway, fast forward to tonight...well, lets start at last night anyway. Last night, I drove home from work, helped my sister put her tree up, washed the sap off of my body, and put on my running clothes. Then I turned my tv on to confirm I was DVR-ing Rules of Engagement and Sing Off. bad idea. Once I saw Sing Off had started, I was drawn in. I sat down for the first song, telling myself I would go running after the opening number....2 hours later, Groove For Thought was singing their Swan Song, and I was replacing my running clothes with pajamas. "well, I'll just try again tomorrow"
Today I was determined to run. I got home from work, went to pga tour superstore to check out some demo clubs, and returned home to "get fit". The following entry is of my exercise adventure...
I had previously mapped out a 2 mile course around my neighborhood. I thought two miles was a tad ambitious given my lack of activity in the last month (I pulled my groin in a Softball Tournament early November, and hadn't tested it since). Me running two miles could be likened to Jaba the Hut Clean & Pressing Han Solo 3 sets, 10 reps each. But I am an ambitious guy, so I thought I'd give it a try.
It actually started ok. I jogged the whole first mile. once I made the turn, I walked for half a mile, then decided to sprint the last 1/2 mile. after about 20 yards of sprinting, I started to dry heave in someones front yard-held it in-recomposed myself, and decided Sprinting was a little to serious at this juncture in my re-kindled relationship with Exercise. So I took the last stretch at what can only be described as a wounded gallop. The last 100 yards weren't pretty, but I finished. From the looks of my body language, you would think that I was a) finishing the last 1/4 mile of a Marathon or b) Humping down the Ho Chi Minh Trail with a fallen comrade over my shoulder and Charlie descending on me something fierce. Either way, it wasn't graceful. After a short blackout on my front lawn, I regained consciousness and thought back on the last 2 miles of my life. And, to be honest, I learned a few things on my run. You see, at the first half mile point there is a busy intersection, with a large public park on one side, and residences on the other. As I approached the intersection, there were a long line of cars cruising by, with some turning to enter the park. People were all around, some playing volley ball, some having Softball Practice, and a few kids Skateboarding in the parking lot. As I waited to cross the street, I did what I had seen thousands of other joggers do at similar intersections across the west. I kept jogging in place, and while placing my index and middle fingers against my throat, I looked at my left wrist and took my pulse. The only problem is I didn't have a watch on. I was missing one of the key elements to taking a pulse, and yet I was still jogging in place, going through the motions. Upon my realization that I was without a time piece, I slowly turned my head behind me to see if any of the Volleyball participants had noticed my miscue. Thankfully none of them had, so I waited for one more car to pass, and crossed the street. As I turned up the street, directly in front of me I noticed a car parked facing the direction I had just come from. Then, to my horror, I noticed that two people were sitting in the car talking. from the looks on their faces as I walked by (I was no longer jogging at this point), they clearly had seen me on the opposite corner from their car, and were no doubtingly laughing at my attempt to take my pulse without a watch, and my head turn to see if anyone had noticed. I'm glad I could make their night. But I was to preoccupied to dwell on a mildly embarrassing moment. so I continued on my way, but not without making a new years resolution to buy a watch. The next thing I learned was that Christmas is a good time to jog in Arizona. 1- it was 70 degrees outside, so the weather was perfect for running. 2-it's Christmas time, so all the houses are lit up, and jogging gives me a chance to not only become healthier, but also enjoy the lights around the neighborhood. Also, being that it's Christmas time, people are naturally in better moods, and thus aren't as mad when you throw up in their "Desert North Pole" scene. Thirdly, I learned that jogging with music is so much nicer than without it. My ipod broke a while ago, and so I ran tonight without any music to 1-pump me up and 2-help my keep pace. another adverse affect of not listening to music, is that I have to rely on Songs that are in my head. And, for some reason, no matter how many awesome Christmas Songs I hear during the day, the one that always pops into my mind when nothing else is on is "Baby it's Cold Outside." Which isn't a horrible song, but definitely not my favorite (especially after a friend gave me a rather peculiar hidden meaning about the song). So, getting some jogging music together is definitely high on my priorities list right now. My jog finished with a classical encounter with 2 members of our fine "elderly community" here in Gilbert. I was a block from home, and I could feel my body begin to question my decision to go for two miles without any warm up. my rhythmic jog had turned into something similar to the scene from Jurassic Park one, when the little boy is running from the Raptors, and his leg is busted up, so He's limping along at a brisk pace, but his posture is still really good (it's a classic visual, I recommend re-watching the movie when you have a chance, John Williams did an amazing job with the musical score as usual). Anyway, I approach the last intersection and a car comes right up to the curb next to me and stops. I figured they were either someone I knew (which isn't really anybody but my family, so I ruled that out quickly), or someone that wanted to do a wellness check on me, because they probably felt I had been stabbed by the belabored body language I was showing just to keep my body moving in a forward direction. So I stop and turn to let them know that I'm actually not suffering from any immediate medical crisis and they can go about their day, when the guest waves at me. I then assume they are wanting to turn right at the intersection and they are waving me to go ahead and cross. I then wave back to them to go ahead and turn (at this point I had stopped running completely, and I figured that walking was the only way I was going to make it home, so what's the rush?). The older gentleman in the driver's seat then leaned across his wife and waved again. So I took a step toward the car thinking that he must be waving for me to come over (probably to give directions or give jogging tips or something). He then waves more emphatically, and now I'm confused- does this guy want me to cross? Does he want directions? Does he want my autograph? What?? So I step a little closer to the car to see if I can help in some way, and then realize that he was waving neither for me to come over nor to cross the street. He was just waving me out of the way. Apparently I was standing in his line of site from his car to the street sign he was looking at. And me walking toward him, just made the obstruction larger and the guy more frustrated. So he just stepped on the gas and turned the corner in disgust, leaving me standing there contemplating the events of the previous 2 minutes. I shrugged to myself and walked into the house. Immediately upon entrance to the house, I went to the fridge to hydrate. I opened the fridge to look for a gallon of water, but instead found egg nog (not the best for a post cardio workout), milk, apple juice and a bottle of wine with a cork screw poking out of it...don't worry it's not what you think! My sister is using it for a sweet Fish Recipe. Funny story about the wine though. So I borrowed a cork screw from the hotel, but instead of borrowing one of our nice ones, I picked up one of our small, plain cork screws. So the problem is with the standard cork screw, is that it doesn't have the lever that will raise the cork up out of the bottle. Instead it works purely on your own strength to get the cork out. I happened to have a rather embarrassing moment a couple years ago, opening a bottle of wine for a guest in their room, and between that, and the fact that I don't use cork screws very often, I am having the darnedest time opening this bottle of wine. I have the cork screw in the cork, but I can not get it to budge. the other day, I was trying to open it so we could have some fish, but not wanting to break the cork into pieces, and also not wanting to spill all over myself, I was relegated to leaving the cork screw in the bottle, and heading into work. We haven't had time to do the fish yet, which is good, because I currently have no idea how I'm going to open the bottle...
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
3 years and the memory remains...
The other day I walked into our Resort Shop, looking for a Gatorade. I picked out a "cool blue" and was heading to the register, when something caught my eye. It was something I haven't given second glance to in quite a long time. Yes, it was an 8 oz bag of White Chocolate covered Pretzels. I picked the bag up as I placed my Gatorade on the counter. I perused the bag as if I were studying an old photograph of long separated friend. "Those are good aren't they?" asked our lovely Shop Attendant. "Yes....yes they are" I replied, as I placed the pretzels back on the shelf. "Well, aren't you going to buy them??" She asked.
She obviously didn't know my history with these pretzels. She had no idea how high I had soared, or the depths of which I had fallen. It was an honest and naive question by someone who had no idea the seductive power a Chocolate Covered Pretzel possesses over the weak. It was like a bartender walking out of his establishment and enticing the recovering alcoholic peering into his window with parched lips (ok, maybe not that extreme, but you get my point). I hesitated for a moment, and then, having decided that 3 years was enough recovery time, I said "absolutely"
I took the pretzels and the Gatorade back to my office and placed the pretzels on the desk in front of me. After staring at them for a few minutes, I opened the cellophane bag and reached in for a pretzel. The moment I ate that pretzel, the memories of its taste flooded my mind. Memories of when I was a kid and first started eating them. Memories of Christmas parties where I would fill my plate with them and be content the remainder of the night. And then the two most recent memories: firstly, Josh and Amy's Reception where this whole mess began. Josh and Amy just happened to have some of the most delicious reception favors ever: Creme Puffs, Carrots with ranch dressing, and of course...Chocolate Covered Pretzels.
quick sidebar:
In recalling some of the greatest accomplishments through the ages, it's fascinating to note that most share a common start. almost all were born out of a friendly wager, or "one upsmanship mentality" Pocahontas showed John Smith how to play football in the first ever Turkey Bowl, so Lewis and Clark had Sacajawea build them the Oregon Trail. FDR had a sweet wheelchair to ride around in during the Great Depression, so Truman decided to "one up" him by giving a bunch of scientists Einstein Bagels in exchange for the A Bomb. Magellan sailed around the tip of Africa in a boat, so Alexander the Great used African Elephants to cross the Alps, and we could go on and on...
This experience was no different. Friends enjoying some savory snacks, not knowing that they would soon be orchestrating one of the greatest "I can eat a significant amount of one particular item on New Year's Eve" accomplishments ever to be attempted along the Wasatch Front.
Of course, when surrounded by pure testosterone and wedding food, eyes tend to be bigger than stomachs. So the wagers ended up starting a little high. 50 lbs of chocolate pretzels, 50 lbs of carrots, 10,000 creme puffs. Yes, I admit, this is a little over the top, but consider the Chinese for a moment (second sidebar, be prepared for it to wrap back to the original point, if I can remember it... I tend to get off subject). Originally, they wanted to build a wall around the entire world. Talk about big eyes! Sure, if you ask someone now-a-days, they'll tell you the Chinese wanted to build a wall to fortify them from their northern enemies, but we all know the real story. Qin Shi Huang was at a golf event with Genghis Khan when Genghis started talking about how many Mongolian Restaurants he could open in one day. He said he could open up enough restaurants that they could form a delicious fence across the entire Asian continent. Then Qin Shi Huang said he would one up Genghis by building a wall around the world, forcing local patrons to pay a toll in order to get from one Mongolian Grill to the next. They both left the golf tournament with a mission (neither made the final day cuts, Genghis shot an abysmal 83 and stabbed a rules official, and Qin Shi Huang was DQ'd for grounding his club in a green side bunker).
Well as we all know, The Chinese did build one fantastic wall. It even has "great" in the title. But we also know that it doesn't span the globe. We also know that while Mongolian Restaurants don't quite form a fence, they do spot the globe, offering a nice variety at a fair price. So I'd say Genghis was the more successful of the two, but that's a different debate.
Back to the Reception (which was lovely, by the way)...
We decided at some point we were going to have this "overindulging throw down" and began prepping ourselves for the day of reckoning. I approached training for my pretzel mosh, much like Kobyashi (pre-arrest).
Alas, New Year's Eve day arrived, and we gathered for the festivities. The hodgepodge of delicacies sat on the table: brownies, cereal, ho-ho's, creme puffs, pretzels, cinnamon rolls, rice krispie treats, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, ice cream, lasagna, and even Swedish Fish.
The starting signal flashed, and we were off. What seemed like eternity, but was most likely an hour or so later, all had succeeded or failed, and we were on to less caloric activities (namely lighting fireworks and singing karaoke).
I came away with three things that night. 1: Skyrocketing Cholesterol 2: a huge appreciation for the gag reflex, and 3: a satisfied resolve never to eat a chocolate covered pretzel again.
Fast Forward to this week. All of the above memories flooded my senses as I bit that first pretzel. but overpowering the sick feelings I had December 31st, 2008, was the deliciousness of that pretzel, and the many fond memories I had prior to that overindulgence... I ate another, and then another, and then I found myself stupidly saying "If I had 5 lbs of these exact pretzels, I would have done it!" I ate a few more, and then all of the sudden.... I couldn't eat any more. They are so RICH and so SALTY...it was crazy. I couldn't even finish an 8 oz bag of pretzels! What was I thinking??? 5 lbs??? 50 lbs???!!! these are the times when I really just sit back and think, "man Ben, sometimes, you are such a MORON" I finished the bag eventually (it only took me three days), and it was delicious, but it was also a good reminder of the age old adage "all things in moderation". Now, I understand this was quite a long story for such a short moral, but sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination (wow, a two-fer of adages in one post...I'm on a roll).
She obviously didn't know my history with these pretzels. She had no idea how high I had soared, or the depths of which I had fallen. It was an honest and naive question by someone who had no idea the seductive power a Chocolate Covered Pretzel possesses over the weak. It was like a bartender walking out of his establishment and enticing the recovering alcoholic peering into his window with parched lips (ok, maybe not that extreme, but you get my point). I hesitated for a moment, and then, having decided that 3 years was enough recovery time, I said "absolutely"
I took the pretzels and the Gatorade back to my office and placed the pretzels on the desk in front of me. After staring at them for a few minutes, I opened the cellophane bag and reached in for a pretzel. The moment I ate that pretzel, the memories of its taste flooded my mind. Memories of when I was a kid and first started eating them. Memories of Christmas parties where I would fill my plate with them and be content the remainder of the night. And then the two most recent memories: firstly, Josh and Amy's Reception where this whole mess began. Josh and Amy just happened to have some of the most delicious reception favors ever: Creme Puffs, Carrots with ranch dressing, and of course...Chocolate Covered Pretzels.
quick sidebar:
In recalling some of the greatest accomplishments through the ages, it's fascinating to note that most share a common start. almost all were born out of a friendly wager, or "one upsmanship mentality" Pocahontas showed John Smith how to play football in the first ever Turkey Bowl, so Lewis and Clark had Sacajawea build them the Oregon Trail. FDR had a sweet wheelchair to ride around in during the Great Depression, so Truman decided to "one up" him by giving a bunch of scientists Einstein Bagels in exchange for the A Bomb. Magellan sailed around the tip of Africa in a boat, so Alexander the Great used African Elephants to cross the Alps, and we could go on and on...
This experience was no different. Friends enjoying some savory snacks, not knowing that they would soon be orchestrating one of the greatest "I can eat a significant amount of one particular item on New Year's Eve" accomplishments ever to be attempted along the Wasatch Front.
Of course, when surrounded by pure testosterone and wedding food, eyes tend to be bigger than stomachs. So the wagers ended up starting a little high. 50 lbs of chocolate pretzels, 50 lbs of carrots, 10,000 creme puffs. Yes, I admit, this is a little over the top, but consider the Chinese for a moment (second sidebar, be prepared for it to wrap back to the original point, if I can remember it... I tend to get off subject). Originally, they wanted to build a wall around the entire world. Talk about big eyes! Sure, if you ask someone now-a-days, they'll tell you the Chinese wanted to build a wall to fortify them from their northern enemies, but we all know the real story. Qin Shi Huang was at a golf event with Genghis Khan when Genghis started talking about how many Mongolian Restaurants he could open in one day. He said he could open up enough restaurants that they could form a delicious fence across the entire Asian continent. Then Qin Shi Huang said he would one up Genghis by building a wall around the world, forcing local patrons to pay a toll in order to get from one Mongolian Grill to the next. They both left the golf tournament with a mission (neither made the final day cuts, Genghis shot an abysmal 83 and stabbed a rules official, and Qin Shi Huang was DQ'd for grounding his club in a green side bunker).
Well as we all know, The Chinese did build one fantastic wall. It even has "great" in the title. But we also know that it doesn't span the globe. We also know that while Mongolian Restaurants don't quite form a fence, they do spot the globe, offering a nice variety at a fair price. So I'd say Genghis was the more successful of the two, but that's a different debate.
Back to the Reception (which was lovely, by the way)...
We decided at some point we were going to have this "overindulging throw down" and began prepping ourselves for the day of reckoning. I approached training for my pretzel mosh, much like Kobyashi (pre-arrest).
Alas, New Year's Eve day arrived, and we gathered for the festivities. The hodgepodge of delicacies sat on the table: brownies, cereal, ho-ho's, creme puffs, pretzels, cinnamon rolls, rice krispie treats, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, ice cream, lasagna, and even Swedish Fish.
The starting signal flashed, and we were off. What seemed like eternity, but was most likely an hour or so later, all had succeeded or failed, and we were on to less caloric activities (namely lighting fireworks and singing karaoke).
I came away with three things that night. 1: Skyrocketing Cholesterol 2: a huge appreciation for the gag reflex, and 3: a satisfied resolve never to eat a chocolate covered pretzel again.
Fast Forward to this week. All of the above memories flooded my senses as I bit that first pretzel. but overpowering the sick feelings I had December 31st, 2008, was the deliciousness of that pretzel, and the many fond memories I had prior to that overindulgence... I ate another, and then another, and then I found myself stupidly saying "If I had 5 lbs of these exact pretzels, I would have done it!" I ate a few more, and then all of the sudden.... I couldn't eat any more. They are so RICH and so SALTY...it was crazy. I couldn't even finish an 8 oz bag of pretzels! What was I thinking??? 5 lbs??? 50 lbs???!!! these are the times when I really just sit back and think, "man Ben, sometimes, you are such a MORON" I finished the bag eventually (it only took me three days), and it was delicious, but it was also a good reminder of the age old adage "all things in moderation". Now, I understand this was quite a long story for such a short moral, but sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination (wow, a two-fer of adages in one post...I'm on a roll).
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Memories-Destination Unknown
So, memory is a funny thing... and if I ever get accepted to another university willing to take a chance on me, I might take a class on the human mind (I wonder if that would count as an elective?)... It's amazing the things you forget over time. I know that last sentence sounds stupid, but seriously, it sucks to forget things. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who regretted not keeping a journal during a 3 month visit to Europe. And it's true- very few of us actually keep good records of this show we call life. I pulled out the 2001 Springville High School Yearbook with "Destination Unknown" on the cover. Don't ask me why I pulled out my junior year yearbook, I hadn't yet reached my peak of coolness, so one would naturally assume I'd go straight for Senior year, but alas, this is where my attention focused.
1 sidebar very quickly: if you ever are in need of a self esteem boost, look at your old yearbooks. Generally speaking, you only had people sign your yearbook, whom you liked, and knew liked you. So 98% of what people wrote were compliments about you (I reserved the 2% for Blake Haines who wrote something about how I should stop being a closet gay, and the person who wrote "Duke Rules" all over my year book...thanks a lot Mortensen). But seriously, even if half of what these people are writing is generic "yearbook jargon" it still suffices as quite a morale boost :)
ok, sidebar aside, I think everyone should pull out their Junior Year Yearbook (I'll wait while you search frantically through old book shelves, or call your parents and ask if they kept any of your old belongings...).
Got it? ok, good. Now, just open up the first page and read the comments...I defy any of you to not find some quote, advice, memory that you had forgotten through the falling of the sands of time. I found tons! first off, some of these people had very nice things to say about me (again, they may have written the same thing in everyone's yearbook, but it doesn't matter), and I can not even remember who they are. I feel like a huge jerk for that. Secondly, it's often been said that adolescence is a time filled with identity issues. well, apparently, Junior year was mine, because I had way too many nicknames. the thing is, I'm pretty sure most of them were self appointed, which is not how nicknames are supposed to work...but it's nice to see that some things don't change, because I'm still giving myself nicknames. But there were some good ones from back in the day, that I had long forgotten about: Mr. Sensitive (I'm totally Mr. Sensitive!!), BYOB (thanks Kirsta for reminding me in your message on the back page!), Mr. Tough, Muerte! of course, I'm not sure how I had the nickname Muerte (spanish for death) and Mr. Sensitive at the same time, but clearly I was a chameleon back then.
So I could go on and on about the, well for lack of a better term, and this being the digital age "postings" on my yearbook, but since I only know of a select few that have occasion to read this blog, here are a few things I'd like to bring up:
First-and just a general statement. Lots of people mentioned memories of me in College Alg/Trig, and how fun it was. I don't remember it being fun. I barely passed that class. I honestly did not remember that I was such a nuisance...No wonder I didn't learn anything, and I'm surprised anyone learned anything with me in their class... I was a complete distraction. Teachers must have hated me!
but I digress...
Diana...you said that "if we ever got bored, we needed to conjugate irregular french verbs" well, I just want to say that your lack of follow through probably is the reason I'm not fluent today... :)
Justin- you said we were going to go camping everyday during the summer of 2001. I'm looking back on my date book, and you know what I didn't see?? it filled with notes about all my various camping appointments! although the few we did go on were wicked cool. (I'm guessing my schedule at the Hogi Yogi was pretty demanding or something :)
Mossey, you made several comments about my rugged good looks...I can't argue with that.
Will said something about me being the Great American Pelican... I know there's a story behind this, but I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps because I blocked it out. Ring a bell to anyone else?
Brad brought up something about cell phone smashing, which I vaguely remember...but not completely since I didn't own a working cell phone until I was back from the mish...
Boyer talked about how I was the greatest locker partner he ever had (loose translation)
Dave... guess what dave?? I can't find anything in my junior yearbook from you!!!? what's that about?! next time I visit Utah, I'm bringing this yearbook and you're going to write something in it!
So, generally speaking, it was really fun to look this over. I think when you are in the last days of school, and a whole day is basically set aside for people to sign yearbooks, it seems like a waste of time...I remember thinking that the whole process was a tad bit self centered. but looking back on it, it's good to remember the days of yore. These I've mentioned and a few specific others that I haven't, have had a distinct impact on the person I am today. I think we sometimes forget that the journey of becoming who we want to be, is often just as important as the attainment of that persona. I just looked back on what was only a sliver of my life, and realized-that sliver, albeit small and seemingly insignificant on the outside, actually affects a huge part of who I am, and how I act, and why I tend to use comedy as an escape.
This small moment has opened up this stroll down memory lane...It's like the movie inception, only without all the complicated twists, turns, and thrills. It's as if I'm walking down a street and the buildings I walk past are structures representing my memories- my past. I pass a building on my right, it's a concert hall. Inside are all my memories of orchestra. I walk past the concert hall, and there's a frozen yogurt/sandwich/Japanese fast food restaurant (crazy, I know...) just across from the restaurant is the french embassy with a crazy man and lady standing out front (how were we so blessed to have two completely insane french teachers?? I'll never know). I turn down the street to the right and there's an open courtyard, with some sort of street fair in progress-filled with dances I've been to, and kids listening to a stereo in the middle of the hall... it's crazy. So many buildings/events are going on in this city in my mind. It's really quite amazing and in that respect, the fact that only a few things have slipped past my ability to recall them, is in and of itself a miracle. But that's why these things are so important. Journals, pictures, video, scrapbooks, and yes, even High School Yearbooks, can serve as defibrillators for the mind.
Anyway, this is a long post, but I encourage everyone to look back at these tools and take a trip through your own "city of memory". perhaps I'll see you there ;)
1 sidebar very quickly: if you ever are in need of a self esteem boost, look at your old yearbooks. Generally speaking, you only had people sign your yearbook, whom you liked, and knew liked you. So 98% of what people wrote were compliments about you (I reserved the 2% for Blake Haines who wrote something about how I should stop being a closet gay, and the person who wrote "Duke Rules" all over my year book...thanks a lot Mortensen). But seriously, even if half of what these people are writing is generic "yearbook jargon" it still suffices as quite a morale boost :)
ok, sidebar aside, I think everyone should pull out their Junior Year Yearbook (I'll wait while you search frantically through old book shelves, or call your parents and ask if they kept any of your old belongings...).
Got it? ok, good. Now, just open up the first page and read the comments...I defy any of you to not find some quote, advice, memory that you had forgotten through the falling of the sands of time. I found tons! first off, some of these people had very nice things to say about me (again, they may have written the same thing in everyone's yearbook, but it doesn't matter), and I can not even remember who they are. I feel like a huge jerk for that. Secondly, it's often been said that adolescence is a time filled with identity issues. well, apparently, Junior year was mine, because I had way too many nicknames. the thing is, I'm pretty sure most of them were self appointed, which is not how nicknames are supposed to work...but it's nice to see that some things don't change, because I'm still giving myself nicknames. But there were some good ones from back in the day, that I had long forgotten about: Mr. Sensitive (I'm totally Mr. Sensitive!!), BYOB (thanks Kirsta for reminding me in your message on the back page!), Mr. Tough, Muerte! of course, I'm not sure how I had the nickname Muerte (spanish for death) and Mr. Sensitive at the same time, but clearly I was a chameleon back then.
So I could go on and on about the, well for lack of a better term, and this being the digital age "postings" on my yearbook, but since I only know of a select few that have occasion to read this blog, here are a few things I'd like to bring up:
First-and just a general statement. Lots of people mentioned memories of me in College Alg/Trig, and how fun it was. I don't remember it being fun. I barely passed that class. I honestly did not remember that I was such a nuisance...No wonder I didn't learn anything, and I'm surprised anyone learned anything with me in their class... I was a complete distraction. Teachers must have hated me!
but I digress...
Diana...you said that "if we ever got bored, we needed to conjugate irregular french verbs" well, I just want to say that your lack of follow through probably is the reason I'm not fluent today... :)
Justin- you said we were going to go camping everyday during the summer of 2001. I'm looking back on my date book, and you know what I didn't see?? it filled with notes about all my various camping appointments! although the few we did go on were wicked cool. (I'm guessing my schedule at the Hogi Yogi was pretty demanding or something :)
Mossey, you made several comments about my rugged good looks...I can't argue with that.
Will said something about me being the Great American Pelican... I know there's a story behind this, but I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps because I blocked it out. Ring a bell to anyone else?
Brad brought up something about cell phone smashing, which I vaguely remember...but not completely since I didn't own a working cell phone until I was back from the mish...
Boyer talked about how I was the greatest locker partner he ever had (loose translation)
Dave... guess what dave?? I can't find anything in my junior yearbook from you!!!? what's that about?! next time I visit Utah, I'm bringing this yearbook and you're going to write something in it!
So, generally speaking, it was really fun to look this over. I think when you are in the last days of school, and a whole day is basically set aside for people to sign yearbooks, it seems like a waste of time...I remember thinking that the whole process was a tad bit self centered. but looking back on it, it's good to remember the days of yore. These I've mentioned and a few specific others that I haven't, have had a distinct impact on the person I am today. I think we sometimes forget that the journey of becoming who we want to be, is often just as important as the attainment of that persona. I just looked back on what was only a sliver of my life, and realized-that sliver, albeit small and seemingly insignificant on the outside, actually affects a huge part of who I am, and how I act, and why I tend to use comedy as an escape.
This small moment has opened up this stroll down memory lane...It's like the movie inception, only without all the complicated twists, turns, and thrills. It's as if I'm walking down a street and the buildings I walk past are structures representing my memories- my past. I pass a building on my right, it's a concert hall. Inside are all my memories of orchestra. I walk past the concert hall, and there's a frozen yogurt/sandwich/Japanese fast food restaurant (crazy, I know...) just across from the restaurant is the french embassy with a crazy man and lady standing out front (how were we so blessed to have two completely insane french teachers?? I'll never know). I turn down the street to the right and there's an open courtyard, with some sort of street fair in progress-filled with dances I've been to, and kids listening to a stereo in the middle of the hall... it's crazy. So many buildings/events are going on in this city in my mind. It's really quite amazing and in that respect, the fact that only a few things have slipped past my ability to recall them, is in and of itself a miracle. But that's why these things are so important. Journals, pictures, video, scrapbooks, and yes, even High School Yearbooks, can serve as defibrillators for the mind.
Anyway, this is a long post, but I encourage everyone to look back at these tools and take a trip through your own "city of memory". perhaps I'll see you there ;)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
"Is Possible???"
Almost every Monday we have a tour group with 2-4 buses stay at the hotel for a night, on their way to visit the "Enchanted Canyonlands of the Southwest". Usually we have an Italian Bus, a French Bus, and then sometimes we get Australians.
The other day, one of the Italian guests came to the desk and started asking a question....in Italian... I looked at him blankly for a few minutes until he was done. Then I told him I didn't speak Italian, and he responded with....well, more Italian. I've had similar experiences with our French and Spanish speaking guests. Almost always they're sentence starts with "Is Possible...?" i.e. "Is Possible....to aah, internet??" which is fine, because that, I can understand. But with this gentleman, there was no working through the phonetics. He kept repeating himself, and I would point to things, or answer with what I thought he was asking, but eventually he just muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked away. If there was ever a time when I wish I could download a language learning system directly into my brain, this is it. Unfortunately, I can't draw on my experiences in Foreign Northern California to aide my translation skills... not that I'm bitter for going English Speaking or anything...
The other day, one of the Italian guests came to the desk and started asking a question....in Italian... I looked at him blankly for a few minutes until he was done. Then I told him I didn't speak Italian, and he responded with....well, more Italian. I've had similar experiences with our French and Spanish speaking guests. Almost always they're sentence starts with "Is Possible...?" i.e. "Is Possible....to aah, internet??" which is fine, because that, I can understand. But with this gentleman, there was no working through the phonetics. He kept repeating himself, and I would point to things, or answer with what I thought he was asking, but eventually he just muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked away. If there was ever a time when I wish I could download a language learning system directly into my brain, this is it. Unfortunately, I can't draw on my experiences in Foreign Northern California to aide my translation skills... not that I'm bitter for going English Speaking or anything...
Catching up on the train ride to BlogTown
Wow, it's been a little while. I'm working the graveyard shift today and tomorrow, so I figure I'll have some time to post. I was trying to post a Youtube video Dave showed me when I visited Utah, it was Hilarious, and totally reminds me of the great Videos we made in yesteryear. When I went to share it, the title came up, but not the video....weird. Anyway, you should all go to Youtube and search for "Canadian Border Patrol" it's the first video that pops up...Amazing!
Mainly I use this forum for random thoughts, stories, and the like, but I was re-reading the July 1st Presidency Message from Pres. Eyring. He spoke of Friendship, and quoted D&C 84 when the Savior called us his Friends, if we will follow him. Pres. Eyring goes on to say that we should be the kind of Friend to others that the Savior is to us. This is great counsel. I've had my share of "down times" lately, but I can honestly say that I have always had the most joy and the most blessings, when I've forgotten about myself and looked to help others-when I've been a good friend. So my focus the rest of the year is to do more on that front.
Mainly I use this forum for random thoughts, stories, and the like, but I was re-reading the July 1st Presidency Message from Pres. Eyring. He spoke of Friendship, and quoted D&C 84 when the Savior called us his Friends, if we will follow him. Pres. Eyring goes on to say that we should be the kind of Friend to others that the Savior is to us. This is great counsel. I've had my share of "down times" lately, but I can honestly say that I have always had the most joy and the most blessings, when I've forgotten about myself and looked to help others-when I've been a good friend. So my focus the rest of the year is to do more on that front.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Ellen's large feet
I just got off of work, and I'm basically debating on whether to go to bed (it's 8pm by the way) or do some laundry. I just polished off the better part of a box of Mac and Cheese (I added a can of green beans, my mother would be proud), and almost immediately regretted eating that much. While I contemplated the insane amount of pasta I had devoured today (I finished off some vegan leftovers from last night for breakfast: noodles and vegetables pan fried in Tai peanut sauce...very good); I decided to sit down and rest for a spot. Ellen's Somewhat Special Special was on. First thing I noticed was her sweet 3 piece suit. she is, after all, a sharp dresser. Next I look down, and what do you know, She's got some decent sized dogs! I mean, her shoes looked really long. not quite clown like, but definitely bigger than her small frame would suggest. I didn't dwell too long on her feet, however, because I got to thinking to myself "self, Ellen's got a pretty sharp hairdo going on...maybe you should get yourself an Ellen haircut!" I just wonder what the reaction will be when I go to the Great Clips down the street and tell the stylist "I'll take The Ellen." I would think it could be quite embarrassing, but hey, this is me...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
"Time Flies on Wings of Lightning"
Dallin H. Oaks referenced this quote from a Hymn in the April 2001 Conference. It was evident tonight as I looked at some pictures of Blake.
How did this little tyke
turn into this little Man Child in less than 2 years????
How did this little tyke
He still makes the same face when he sleeps though. I love it.
We're letting his hair grow out a bit. I want to see how it looks. If it's horrible, we'll have to get him a trim before his 2 year photo, but until then, I say grow baby grow.
I think he's getting a little big of a Samson complex though. He's been a little bit of a tyrant recently. We had a little chat though, and he's going to work on it (If only parenting were that simple :)...Customer Service
Most big companies have customer service departments. You know them, they take the returns, faulty merchandise, and all your complaints. Well in my line of work, the Front Desk is the Resort's customer service desk. You have a problem with Housekeeping...tell the Front Desk. Restaurant service was slow, get up from your table, walk past the Restaurant Manager and the three hostesses, and come to the Front Desk. Spa doesn't have any availability- they have several managers who are happy to talk to you, but nope-call the Front Desk. It's very interesting. I understand this is the case, and I'm OK with that for the most part. I understand that a big part of my job is to deal with Guest problems. Where I start to take umbrage, however, is when people who aren't guests, call to complain to me. It's like I'm the Chloe of Complaints, sans the accent (although I've got some great Jamaican associates who are teaching me their lingo...stay tuned for that).
This afternoon I got a call from this irate lady who wanted to give her friend (who had a future reservation to stay with us) a $100 credit to use as she wished. She was ripped because we wouldn't take her credit card over the phone. Marriott requires a credit card authorization form to be filled out and faxed/emailed to the property to allow third party charging. This is to protect the company and the guest. It's pretty standard in most hotel chains. Well this lady wasn't having any of it. She just went off about how I should be ashamed to work for a company that would make this so difficult for her. She then said that it wasn't to protect her at all, it was just to protect the company and that I was a liar for telling her different. And for the first time in a very long time, I started to lose my patience. She continued about how she is a Gold Member of Hyatt and they never ever asked her to send a credit card authorization, they always take her card over the phone. Amazon. Macy's. They all take credit cards over the phone. "All I want to do is give my friend a gift, and you are ruining her birthday!"
I was astonished. I'm very good at taking a verbal beating from guests, because I understand the associate/guest relationship. But this lady wasn't even staying with us! I basically cut her off. I told her that though she thought I was a liar, the credit card authorization was just as much for her benefit as ours. "How so??" she asked.
"Well Ma'am, lets say you tell me over the phone you want to pay $100 on your friends bill. I take your credit card over the phone, but instead of charging it $100, I charge it $1000. You see your credit card statement in a few days and call us to complain that we overcharged your card. But then it's your word against mine, thus our problem. However, lets say you were to send in a quick little form which the written amount you wanted charged and your signature. Then there would be no chance for confusion. Does this make sense to you?"
Then she gave an analogy of her own about calling Amazon to pay for something, and asked if what I said was similar to what she said. I checked out of the conversation 3 minutes earlier, so I just said yes.
Then she asks "Well, what should I do then?"
Well, you could write your friend a poem, give them a car wash, or shoe shine...maybe babysit her kids while she got away for the weekend...Or maybe...just maybe...you could email me back this credit card authorization filled out, and give your friend $100 like you planned. Holy Smokes! this conversation is worse than me sticking thumb tacks into my knuckles!
Eventually I ask her why she doesn't give them a Marriott Gift Card. Well I tried, but someone at your hotel gave me the wrong website.
http://www.marriott.com/? yes that is a tough one to remember. So I walked her through the process, even going to the website as she was, and clicking on everything before I told her, so I knew it worked. She said she wasn't seeing the same thing I was. Eventually she found the right site, but then asked how she's going to print off the gift card. I told her it wasn't a certificate, but that Marriott would actually mail her an actual gift card. "but the party is today, will it get here today?"
"No ma'am, it probably wont be there for a few days, since it's already 12pm and it won't leave the warehouse until TOMORROW!"
"well, what am I going to do then?"
So then I told her about the final option. "you could try Safeway or Fry's. They often have Marriott gift cards, or at the very least, they have visa and American express gift cards, which we accept here at the resort.
"No, I don't remember seeing any gift cards at Safeway."
"Trust me ma'am, they are there."
"Well, I don't know. This whole process has been very frustrating, and I feel certain people at your resort misled me. I've never experienced this with Hyatt."
Anyone that has been in customer service long enough, knows when a person is trying to get something for free. They're just fishing around, and you know exactly what they're doing, it's insane. It's like a five year old that wants something, so he goes to his mom and he thinks he's being so clever and sly, but he's a little kid, and his mom isn't stupid. She sees right through him! That's how I felt with this lady. Did she honestly expect me to say "Ma'am, I am so sorry for this trouble you've had giving your friend a gift. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to put $100 credit on your friends account, and tell her it was from you. that way, you get out of giving her an actual gift!"
Seriously?? I'd rather get kicked in the face by a donkey then give you anything!
It's people like this that really make it hard for honest guests who have experienced problems to get proper compensation. Amazing!!
This afternoon I got a call from this irate lady who wanted to give her friend (who had a future reservation to stay with us) a $100 credit to use as she wished. She was ripped because we wouldn't take her credit card over the phone. Marriott requires a credit card authorization form to be filled out and faxed/emailed to the property to allow third party charging. This is to protect the company and the guest. It's pretty standard in most hotel chains. Well this lady wasn't having any of it. She just went off about how I should be ashamed to work for a company that would make this so difficult for her. She then said that it wasn't to protect her at all, it was just to protect the company and that I was a liar for telling her different. And for the first time in a very long time, I started to lose my patience. She continued about how she is a Gold Member of Hyatt and they never ever asked her to send a credit card authorization, they always take her card over the phone. Amazon. Macy's. They all take credit cards over the phone. "All I want to do is give my friend a gift, and you are ruining her birthday!"
I was astonished. I'm very good at taking a verbal beating from guests, because I understand the associate/guest relationship. But this lady wasn't even staying with us! I basically cut her off. I told her that though she thought I was a liar, the credit card authorization was just as much for her benefit as ours. "How so??" she asked.
"Well Ma'am, lets say you tell me over the phone you want to pay $100 on your friends bill. I take your credit card over the phone, but instead of charging it $100, I charge it $1000. You see your credit card statement in a few days and call us to complain that we overcharged your card. But then it's your word against mine, thus our problem. However, lets say you were to send in a quick little form which the written amount you wanted charged and your signature. Then there would be no chance for confusion. Does this make sense to you?"
Then she gave an analogy of her own about calling Amazon to pay for something, and asked if what I said was similar to what she said. I checked out of the conversation 3 minutes earlier, so I just said yes.
Then she asks "Well, what should I do then?"
Well, you could write your friend a poem, give them a car wash, or shoe shine...maybe babysit her kids while she got away for the weekend...Or maybe...just maybe...you could email me back this credit card authorization filled out, and give your friend $100 like you planned. Holy Smokes! this conversation is worse than me sticking thumb tacks into my knuckles!
Eventually I ask her why she doesn't give them a Marriott Gift Card. Well I tried, but someone at your hotel gave me the wrong website.
http://www.marriott.com/? yes that is a tough one to remember. So I walked her through the process, even going to the website as she was, and clicking on everything before I told her, so I knew it worked. She said she wasn't seeing the same thing I was. Eventually she found the right site, but then asked how she's going to print off the gift card. I told her it wasn't a certificate, but that Marriott would actually mail her an actual gift card. "but the party is today, will it get here today?"
"No ma'am, it probably wont be there for a few days, since it's already 12pm and it won't leave the warehouse until TOMORROW!"
"well, what am I going to do then?"
So then I told her about the final option. "you could try Safeway or Fry's. They often have Marriott gift cards, or at the very least, they have visa and American express gift cards, which we accept here at the resort.
"No, I don't remember seeing any gift cards at Safeway."
"Trust me ma'am, they are there."
"Well, I don't know. This whole process has been very frustrating, and I feel certain people at your resort misled me. I've never experienced this with Hyatt."
Anyone that has been in customer service long enough, knows when a person is trying to get something for free. They're just fishing around, and you know exactly what they're doing, it's insane. It's like a five year old that wants something, so he goes to his mom and he thinks he's being so clever and sly, but he's a little kid, and his mom isn't stupid. She sees right through him! That's how I felt with this lady. Did she honestly expect me to say "Ma'am, I am so sorry for this trouble you've had giving your friend a gift. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to put $100 credit on your friends account, and tell her it was from you. that way, you get out of giving her an actual gift!"
Seriously?? I'd rather get kicked in the face by a donkey then give you anything!
It's people like this that really make it hard for honest guests who have experienced problems to get proper compensation. Amazing!!
awkward...
So, being somewhat of a blogger novice, I sometimes hit the "next blog" button on accident, when I'm actually trying to post something. It's a little awkward. Here I am, sitting comfortably in my own living room, trying to pen the inner most languishings of my heart (while USA v Australia plays on the DVR)...when all of the sudden, one mis-click of the mouse, and I'm transported to someone else's world, someone else's languishes of the heart, on a blog, not so ironically called "languishings" It's a little awkward being thrown into a stranger's blog. I don't know this person, I feel like an intruder. It's like freshman year of college when you walk into the classroom, sit down, look around, notice that "Welcome to Issues of the Womb 202" is on the white board, and suddenly realize, you're sitting in classroom RB242 instead of RB142. Just as you get up to leave the professor walks in...so you have to sit down so as to not draw too much attention to yourself. You think you can get through one class, unnoticed, and then never return again, but by about the 5th minute, you realize you're just not going to be comfortable with the subject matter, and you book it out of there. To parallel, I accidentally came across this other blog, I want to get out of there, but feel weird automatically clicking the back button. Almost as if this person would know that I came in, and left as if I had just noticed I walked into the women's restroom. (wow, maybe the women's restroom analogy works better than the drawn out "issues of the womb" class analogy...I'm not even sure BYU offers that course, oh wait... yes they do... Marriage Family and Human Development! ha ha, just kidding Friends and Sister who may or may not have such a degree ;)
anyway, I did find myself starting to read this person's blog, but had to stop after 3 or 4 lines because I just felt like such a home invader... I'm sure it's a very nice blog, written by a very nice lady, but I couldn't hang around uninvited long enough to find out.
anyway, I did find myself starting to read this person's blog, but had to stop after 3 or 4 lines because I just felt like such a home invader... I'm sure it's a very nice blog, written by a very nice lady, but I couldn't hang around uninvited long enough to find out.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
thank you for smoking pot, here's $200
You remember how occasionally I have a story or two about our wonderfully wacky guests. Well a couple of weeks ago, we had a wedding on property. One of the bridesmaids calls the front desk, asking if it's normal for there to be a beehive in her bathroom. "Why yes it is Ma'am, you are the lucky recipient of the 'find a beehive in the room, win a year supply of honey' award!! ok, so finding a beehive in the room, is actually quite a big deal, and we wanted to of course get it rectified as soon as possible. We told the guest we would send the bellmen up right away to move her to another room. She replied "no I don't want to move, I'm going down to the wedding rehearsal right now, so just send someone in to remove the beehive and I'll be fine." Huh?? You have a swarm of stinging insects in your room, but you don't want to move?? This is a very curious case (quick side note, which is irrelevant to the beehive incident, but something you should know about the guest: the previous night this guest had left her purse in the lounge and it came up missing. The hotel doesn't assume responsibility for purses left alone, but nonetheless this isn't a great way for them to start their vacation). So we called Ecolab and sent them up to the room with one of our Engineers. The engineer called me from the room saying that while they found a few bees in the ceiling light of the bathroom, they did not find a hive of any sort. The Engineer did mention, however, that the room had a very strong smell of marijuana. He said Ecolab was going to spray the room just to be sure, and that the guest will probably want to move because, though the spray is safe to be around, it doesn't have the most pleasant odor (unlike this ant killer we use sometimes which smells like Vanilla...we call it Vanilla Killa...sometimes I want to use it as cologne...then I remember it's used to kill ants...and I change my mind, but I digress...) I left a message for the guest to call me when they got back, so we could arrange a room move for them. Sometime later, she called from the room and spoke to one of our At Your Service Agents. She again said she didn't want to move, but she was still upset about her purse, and also finding a beehive in her room (the AYS agent said the guest definitely sounded inhibited in someway, and was having a hard time putting together full sentences). We can't force anyone to move, so we said fine, and hung up the phone. because bees in the room is a big deal, I had prepared a suite for her to move into, but then reconsidered once I found out she was smoking pot in her room. I can't have her fouling the furniture in a suite with the "sweet weed"...So I was actually relieved she didn't want to move. And while I still feel really bad she found bees in her room, I have to wonder about her perception of the whole thing. This is how I imagine her timeline that day.
2pm: check in.
2:15pm: talk for a few minutes with her bridesmaid roommate about the wedding and compare/rehearse their various toasts for that night..."I remember a time when (insert name of bride here) spilled bong resin all over our Econ book!! Now she's getting MARRIED!!!! HA HA!! (cricket sounds heard throughout audience as bride looks on in horror while her clearly inebriated bridesmaid stumbles over the microphone chord)
2:40pm: As laughter over their seemingly funny toasts turns into awkward half-sobs of self pity over their own pathetic lives, the roommates decide to drown their sorrows in a bag of ganja.
3:00pm: The girls look at the ihome clock and think they are late for their rehearsal...They rush into the bathroom and turn on the light to get ready. The delayed flicker of the halogen lights cause them to start seeing spots. The flicker of the light also stirs the few bees that are trapped inside. The mixture of the few bees, and the spots, combined with the effects the pot is having on their system cause an interesting reaction
"Jan (I'm honestly just making up names at this point to help convey the story), do you know where the hair dryer is (our hairdryers are hung in the closet, so we often hear this question)??"
"I don't know, maybe we don't have...wait a minute! What is THAT??? Is that a beehive??? HOLY CRAP, WE'RE SURROUNDED BY BEES!!!! LETS GET OUT OF HERE MARSHA (I just pictured Marsha Brady having this conversation with Jan, so I'm going with that here on out)!!
"Jan, this is incredible!!" Marsha replies in a much more subdued voice (In my limited experience talking to people under the influence of marijuana, it's amazing how certain people react differently).
"Jan, I'm surrounded by bees right now, but they're not stinging me...this...is so...Awesome! I feel like Pinnie the Moo...no wait...Minnie the Woo...no that's not it either. Hold on, hold on, it'll come to me... You know, that crazy bear that hangs out with the donkey and tiny pig??
"MARSHA! you've got bees all around you, circling above your head...we need to let someone know about this"
"Winnie the Pooh!! that's it Jan, I'm Winnie the Freaking Pooh!!! This is awesome, quick take my picture on my iPhone!"
"Marsha, for serious, call the front desk, and get an incurminator...externimator...get a whatever they're name is up here to get rid of this beehive"
3:30pm Call Made to AYS
3:31pm: Marsha and Jan head to the wedding rehearsal (that experience probably is worthy of a whole other story).
I mean, how crazy is that?? I feel like the next time a guest calls and claims there is a swarm of anything in the room I need to start my response with a disclaimer question of my own "now sir and/or ma'am, we want to remedy this situation right away, but first I must ask, have you been using any recreational drugs since you arrived on property?"
Now I'm no Bert Einstein, but I have a feeling that question may not go over so well with our valued guests.
second side note, in my three years at this property, I have had only one other call regarding bees. and this one really was a beehive. What had happened, is a beehive was established (what? established? that doesn't sound like the right word at all, in fact established sounds like the bees have one of those signs on their front door citing the month and year their Queen decided to make union with each of them and start a colony) inside the rafters in this room. Then the bees had found their way through a small hole between one of the wood beams and the ceiling....probably 50-80 bees were in this room. I checked a guy into it (not knowing about the bee issue obviously), and five minutes later, I got a call from his room. this is how the conversation went
"Hi this is Mr. Freeman, you just checked me into 310"
"Yes, Mr. Freeman, how is the room?" I reply with genuine interest in my tone, and charisma dripping from my voice
"Well...it's very nice, except....well, there's a swarm of bees in here... and I was wondering if it would be too much trouble to have a room....well....that was bee free?"
I was astonished, seriously, he was taking it all very well.
"I'm SOO Sorry Mr. Freeman, I'm sending the Bellman over right now, he's going to take you to a room close by, it's a suite I think you'll like very much"
The bellman returned from moving the guy and told me what happened. He went over to the room and the guest wasn't waiting outside. So he knocked on the door, heard a faint "come in" and entered the room. The guest was cowering in the opposite corner as bees circled his head like vultures around the last dodo bird. "Run Mr. Freeman!!! screamed the bellman. Mr. Freeman swung his briefcase above his head, and bolted for the door.
What was he still doing in the room?!?!!? I assumed he would hang up and sit on his porch until the bellman arrived. Instead I can envision him hanging up with me, silently lamenting "please hurry" under his breath, while he curled up into the fetal position as the bees prepared to attack. I still can't believe that story.
ANYHOO, back to Marsha and Jan....
So they return to the room after the rehearsal but before the actual wedding, get my message, call down to AYS, still under the influence and again refuse to move. I'm not sure if they could smell the Ecolab Spray given their condition, but that must have been a weird combination for their senses....
So based on the fact that they A-were smoking pot in the room, B-willingly chose to stay in the room, even after we encouraged/plead with them to move and C-were SMOKING POT IN THE ROOM, I decided that these guests did not deserve the red carpet treatment like Mr. Freeman did. But I'm not heartless, so I send up a nice little amenity from room service (honeygrams and milk...just kidding:)
Case closed right? They go to the wedding, chase their sweet high with a lot of alcohol, pass out back at the room sometime after 12am, get up the next morning, pack and leave with a host of new memories, or at least the lingering notion that you wish you remembered more of the previous night than you actually do.
That's what I thought happened. Turns out Jan (or Marsha, I can't remember which was which) called Marriott's Customer Care the other day, complaining about her purse being stolen and a beehive in her room. Once it reaches customer care, we can't exactly say, well we didn't do anything because, well she left her purse unattended and she didn't really have a beehive in her room, there were 3 bees and an apparent prescription for glaucoma. That doesn't really fly. And to be honest we're pretty busy with other issues right now, so we throw $200 at her, and close the issue.
Only in America can someone cause odor damage to a hotel room by use of recreational drugs, be given a nice room service amenity, refuse to let us move their room, but still demand further compensation for the inconvenience of having an alleged beehive in their room. And all this two weeks after the fact. I mean, is she just now coming down??? was that enough pot to cause a Two Week High???
Marriott: where Amazing Happens...
2pm: check in.
2:15pm: talk for a few minutes with her bridesmaid roommate about the wedding and compare/rehearse their various toasts for that night..."I remember a time when (insert name of bride here) spilled bong resin all over our Econ book!! Now she's getting MARRIED!!!! HA HA!! (cricket sounds heard throughout audience as bride looks on in horror while her clearly inebriated bridesmaid stumbles over the microphone chord)
2:40pm: As laughter over their seemingly funny toasts turns into awkward half-sobs of self pity over their own pathetic lives, the roommates decide to drown their sorrows in a bag of ganja.
3:00pm: The girls look at the ihome clock and think they are late for their rehearsal...They rush into the bathroom and turn on the light to get ready. The delayed flicker of the halogen lights cause them to start seeing spots. The flicker of the light also stirs the few bees that are trapped inside. The mixture of the few bees, and the spots, combined with the effects the pot is having on their system cause an interesting reaction
"Jan (I'm honestly just making up names at this point to help convey the story), do you know where the hair dryer is (our hairdryers are hung in the closet, so we often hear this question)??"
"I don't know, maybe we don't have...wait a minute! What is THAT??? Is that a beehive??? HOLY CRAP, WE'RE SURROUNDED BY BEES!!!! LETS GET OUT OF HERE MARSHA (I just pictured Marsha Brady having this conversation with Jan, so I'm going with that here on out)!!
"Jan, this is incredible!!" Marsha replies in a much more subdued voice (In my limited experience talking to people under the influence of marijuana, it's amazing how certain people react differently).
"Jan, I'm surrounded by bees right now, but they're not stinging me...this...is so...Awesome! I feel like Pinnie the Moo...no wait...Minnie the Woo...no that's not it either. Hold on, hold on, it'll come to me... You know, that crazy bear that hangs out with the donkey and tiny pig??
"MARSHA! you've got bees all around you, circling above your head...we need to let someone know about this"
"Winnie the Pooh!! that's it Jan, I'm Winnie the Freaking Pooh!!! This is awesome, quick take my picture on my iPhone!"
"Marsha, for serious, call the front desk, and get an incurminator...externimator...get a whatever they're name is up here to get rid of this beehive"
3:30pm Call Made to AYS
3:31pm: Marsha and Jan head to the wedding rehearsal (that experience probably is worthy of a whole other story).
I mean, how crazy is that?? I feel like the next time a guest calls and claims there is a swarm of anything in the room I need to start my response with a disclaimer question of my own "now sir and/or ma'am, we want to remedy this situation right away, but first I must ask, have you been using any recreational drugs since you arrived on property?"
Now I'm no Bert Einstein, but I have a feeling that question may not go over so well with our valued guests.
second side note, in my three years at this property, I have had only one other call regarding bees. and this one really was a beehive. What had happened, is a beehive was established (what? established? that doesn't sound like the right word at all, in fact established sounds like the bees have one of those signs on their front door citing the month and year their Queen decided to make union with each of them and start a colony) inside the rafters in this room. Then the bees had found their way through a small hole between one of the wood beams and the ceiling....probably 50-80 bees were in this room. I checked a guy into it (not knowing about the bee issue obviously), and five minutes later, I got a call from his room. this is how the conversation went
"Hi this is Mr. Freeman, you just checked me into 310"
"Yes, Mr. Freeman, how is the room?" I reply with genuine interest in my tone, and charisma dripping from my voice
"Well...it's very nice, except....well, there's a swarm of bees in here... and I was wondering if it would be too much trouble to have a room....well....that was bee free?"
I was astonished, seriously, he was taking it all very well.
"I'm SOO Sorry Mr. Freeman, I'm sending the Bellman over right now, he's going to take you to a room close by, it's a suite I think you'll like very much"
The bellman returned from moving the guy and told me what happened. He went over to the room and the guest wasn't waiting outside. So he knocked on the door, heard a faint "come in" and entered the room. The guest was cowering in the opposite corner as bees circled his head like vultures around the last dodo bird. "Run Mr. Freeman!!! screamed the bellman. Mr. Freeman swung his briefcase above his head, and bolted for the door.
What was he still doing in the room?!?!!? I assumed he would hang up and sit on his porch until the bellman arrived. Instead I can envision him hanging up with me, silently lamenting "please hurry" under his breath, while he curled up into the fetal position as the bees prepared to attack. I still can't believe that story.
ANYHOO, back to Marsha and Jan....
So they return to the room after the rehearsal but before the actual wedding, get my message, call down to AYS, still under the influence and again refuse to move. I'm not sure if they could smell the Ecolab Spray given their condition, but that must have been a weird combination for their senses....
So based on the fact that they A-were smoking pot in the room, B-willingly chose to stay in the room, even after we encouraged/plead with them to move and C-were SMOKING POT IN THE ROOM, I decided that these guests did not deserve the red carpet treatment like Mr. Freeman did. But I'm not heartless, so I send up a nice little amenity from room service (honeygrams and milk...just kidding:)
Case closed right? They go to the wedding, chase their sweet high with a lot of alcohol, pass out back at the room sometime after 12am, get up the next morning, pack and leave with a host of new memories, or at least the lingering notion that you wish you remembered more of the previous night than you actually do.
That's what I thought happened. Turns out Jan (or Marsha, I can't remember which was which) called Marriott's Customer Care the other day, complaining about her purse being stolen and a beehive in her room. Once it reaches customer care, we can't exactly say, well we didn't do anything because, well she left her purse unattended and she didn't really have a beehive in her room, there were 3 bees and an apparent prescription for glaucoma. That doesn't really fly. And to be honest we're pretty busy with other issues right now, so we throw $200 at her, and close the issue.
Only in America can someone cause odor damage to a hotel room by use of recreational drugs, be given a nice room service amenity, refuse to let us move their room, but still demand further compensation for the inconvenience of having an alleged beehive in their room. And all this two weeks after the fact. I mean, is she just now coming down??? was that enough pot to cause a Two Week High???
Marriott: where Amazing Happens...
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
BYU Vocal Point - Nearer My God to Thee
It's my lucky day! I found both songs I was writing about last night. Amazing Vocals!
The Last of the Mohicans - Promentory
Ok, so I have not yet figured out how to post just a song, but thanks to the wonderful world of youtube, they have it. I chose this version, because it doesn't show any of the movie clips. This will allow you to just listen... It freakin rocks! I definitely would put this song in my "Own Life's Story" soundtrack, although I'm not sure what part of my life this piece would go along with...I don't have a lot of times when I'm sprinting up a hill to seek revenge on an evil murderer....
good business idea
You know what I'm in the mood for right now? A haircut. But I think I may have a hard time finding a Great Clips open right now. And if I learned anything from the various business courses I failed it's this: How do successful business start? By filling a need. And right now... I need a haircut. So that begs the question: why aren't there any 24 hour barber shops or salons? I mean, honestly...I'm sure I'm not the only person that has Midnight cravings for a nice crew cut, or maybe a mullet. I think the hotel guests might like to deal with someone who has the business up front, but the party in the back. It shows I can be professional and formal, but I still like to party- much like the famed tuxedo t-shirt.
They should just make all the overnight cashiers at Wal Mart get their hair school/cosmetology licenses. Then they could satisfy your need for late night pringles, and do a quick color and up-do...all in one stop. Wal Mart's stock would soar!!
I'm just putting it out there for you "ahead of your time" entrepreneurs out there. I sense a gold mine!
They should just make all the overnight cashiers at Wal Mart get their hair school/cosmetology licenses. Then they could satisfy your need for late night pringles, and do a quick color and up-do...all in one stop. Wal Mart's stock would soar!!
I'm just putting it out there for you "ahead of your time" entrepreneurs out there. I sense a gold mine!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
What are you Passionate about?? part 1
Have you ever sat down and considered your passions. Wise words once admonished "bridle your passions." True it is that when we let our passions dictate our actions, when we let them become our master, when this happens...well, then we have lost the very thing we were seeking. But when the things we are passionate about are in harmony with what we should be doing in life, building upon them can be a real joy. and joy is part of the reason we are here is it not? And so to revert back to the first question... Have you ever just sat down and asked yourself "what am I passionate about?" I think you'll find what you think of pretty interesting. It's also interesting how some passions come and go, and some are consistent. The constants are of course, faith and family... but it's also interesting how passions affect each other. For instance, I am passionate about music. I really am. I love music! I love the show Glee, and not for the portrayal of high school drama, or even for the hilarity of the writing, which I admire quite a bit, but mainly I love it for the music! It's incredible how much music has and continues to shape my life. One of my favorite things about playing in the orchestra was the synergy that was created when you combined melody and harmony out of chaos. When that happens, and you are in the moment of a great song, and your heart goes up and down with the mood of the music...it's nothing short of magical. And I pretty much sucked! So it was even more magical that I was apart of something that created something so beautiful, so poetic. Right now I'm listening to the theme from Last of the Mohican's... Possibly one of the greatest theme songs ever! You can not help but feel like you are running up the mountain to one last battle. You can not help but feel your adrenalin mount up inside you when you listen to this music! I defy someone to listen and not feel anything. There are so many great soundtracks out there. Gladiator, Pirates of the Caribbean, Jurassic Park...the list goes on and on. I love the power a full orchestra possesses.
I wish I could post a few of the songs I have in my head right now. I'll have to consult with my expert blog advisor and see if there's a way to do it. On my way to work recently I was listening to my Glee CD, but on the tail end of it, I added some Vocal Point A Capella songs. Nearer My God to Thee and Praise to the Man. Both incredible! You can not help but want to stand and sing at the top of your lungs along with them. Here as I sit on my couch writing about my passion for music, I can see just above my laptop screen, my guitar sitting on its stand. behind it, my ukulele. I'd love to go and pick either up and just play and play and play...unfortunately I haven't quite put in my due practice lately, and what was once a primitive 5 song repertoire is now down to a depressing 1 or 1 1/2 if my memory is in a generous mood. So there you have it, Music is one of my great passions, and yet I still can't dedicate enough time in my day to spend practicing. Now that is lousy dedication. but I digress... The point is, this is just one of my passions, and I've already wrote a fairly mind numbing amount on just the one. So before I write part two, I'd like to hear some of the things you are passionate about. It could be something small, or something grandiose, but either way, I think it's good if we just take some time to think about them once in a while.
"Cool Runnings: Peace Be the Journey"
B
I wish I could post a few of the songs I have in my head right now. I'll have to consult with my expert blog advisor and see if there's a way to do it. On my way to work recently I was listening to my Glee CD, but on the tail end of it, I added some Vocal Point A Capella songs. Nearer My God to Thee and Praise to the Man. Both incredible! You can not help but want to stand and sing at the top of your lungs along with them. Here as I sit on my couch writing about my passion for music, I can see just above my laptop screen, my guitar sitting on its stand. behind it, my ukulele. I'd love to go and pick either up and just play and play and play...unfortunately I haven't quite put in my due practice lately, and what was once a primitive 5 song repertoire is now down to a depressing 1 or 1 1/2 if my memory is in a generous mood. So there you have it, Music is one of my great passions, and yet I still can't dedicate enough time in my day to spend practicing. Now that is lousy dedication. but I digress... The point is, this is just one of my passions, and I've already wrote a fairly mind numbing amount on just the one. So before I write part two, I'd like to hear some of the things you are passionate about. It could be something small, or something grandiose, but either way, I think it's good if we just take some time to think about them once in a while.
"Cool Runnings: Peace Be the Journey"
B
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Thoughts on tonight's Glee
So, a couple of thoughts on tonight's episode. First off, Sue still has it. Classic. Secondly, I'm a little offended that the premise of the show was to "rehab songs with bad reputations"...well it just so happens that 3 of the songs they showcased, are on my itunes playlist right now. and 1 of them is in my top 10 of most played. Bonnie Tyler is a melodic genius!!! Total Eclipse of the Heart is Awesome, and I defy the notion that it needs restoration from it's poor reputation. Thirdly, I'm so glad Molly Shannon made a cameo! She's perfect for this type of writing. I hope she stays for many many episodes!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
WalMart with Blake
I was at Wal Mart with Blake the other day. It was right before his nap time, and I thought we could get through shopping and back home before he went down...He had other plans
Friday, April 30, 2010
Video Time-Who's Next??
So one of my first posts was about my incredible Arm Wrestling talent...or lack thereof. I had completely forgotten that video footage was taken of one of my "bouts" (is it a bout or a match? either way, I should have brought my punch card because I got worked like a part time job).
Anyway, I was taking some video of Blake at WalMart today and I found it as I looked at the other videos on my phone.
A couple things about this video.... first: Diana is really strong, she's not the bragging type, so maybe most of you don't know this...but she's got a lot of power in those shoulders/biceps/wrists/whatever muscle you use to arm wrestle
second: you really gotta pay attention from the beginning because I lose the right handed battle in the first 5 seconds. third: you may ask yourself after viewing this video why I chose to post it on my own blog, especially a blog that was created to show how awesomely manly I am.... well the answer is simple. While I am awesomely manly, I am also something of an idiot.
Anyway, I was taking some video of Blake at WalMart today and I found it as I looked at the other videos on my phone.
A couple things about this video.... first: Diana is really strong, she's not the bragging type, so maybe most of you don't know this...but she's got a lot of power in those shoulders/biceps/wrists/whatever muscle you use to arm wrestle
second: you really gotta pay attention from the beginning because I lose the right handed battle in the first 5 seconds. third: you may ask yourself after viewing this video why I chose to post it on my own blog, especially a blog that was created to show how awesomely manly I am.... well the answer is simple. While I am awesomely manly, I am also something of an idiot.
did you notice that my neck muscles had to tighten just to win that second match?? some people put their backs into it, but me... I put my whole body behind my endeavors.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Random Posts
Ok, so two years ago, while I was working one summer night at the Hotel, it was incredibly slow. So I just started writing various ridiculous stories/deep thoughts.
So I thought I'd post a few. Most are unfinished, but at least it's a start. Did I mention they're completely ridiculous? Also, there are probably more than a few grammatical errors, hanging participles and the like.
So I thought I'd post a few. Most are unfinished, but at least it's a start. Did I mention they're completely ridiculous? Also, there are probably more than a few grammatical errors, hanging participles and the like.
I need a Cork Screw, a Cabage Patch Kid, and a Microwave
“I NEED A CORK SCREW, A CABBAGE PATCH KID, AND A MICROWAVE!!!”
What a day it had been. You know those days when the moment you wake up, you know you should strongly consider staying in bed the rest of the day. Not because you are sick, or need more rest, or even because you hate the agenda of the day so much you would rather slit your wrists and do pushups in hot water…no…no, the main reason for your considering staying in bed is that from the moment your eyes slowly flickered open, you knew that the fates would align against you that day. Some one, some thing, some idea, was going to get you. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew it was going to be.
Like the man who walks the beach every morning throwing starfish back into the ocean. Hundreds lie before him, scattered across the sandy shoreline. Every day people line the beachhead, watching him save starfish after starfish, applauding his every toss. Then one morning, as he was throwing one particular starfish back to its briny home, a crab lunged out of the sand and clawed him on his pinky toe. Then a jelly fish did a gainer right out of the ocean and marooned itself on his lower neck region, which was an incredible degree of difficulty for the jelly fish, but also an incredible degree of pain for our friend the starfish rescuer.
So as the fateful story of the starfish guy races through your mind, you ponder the ramifications of your decision to stay in bed. After weighing the pro’s and con’s of missing a day of class versus what you expect to be a day from Satan’s underbelly; even going so far as to pull the abacus from beneath your bed, to get a logical and mathematical equation as to the odds you make it safely home again that night without so much as a hint of Murphy’s Law taking place. Once fully satisfied that your life will be miserable for the next 24 hours, but still not in the mood to upset your parents by failing to get to class, you put on your favorite pair of ski pants and Van Halen tee-shirt and walk triumphantly out the front door.
On the way to school you pass Mrs. Wrigley sawing her husbands riding lawn mower in half. While this strikes you as strange because Mrs. Wrigley doesn’t like the smell of 2 stroke motor oil, you’re mind doesn’t reflect too long before moving to the picture of Mr. Wrigley sitting on his grandson’s tricycle, licking a cube of butter, watching his wife go to town on his mower. Memories of your prior decision to not stay in bed are beginning to creep back into your mind, though not for long as the bus is approaching and you have to prepare yourself for which seat you will get. It is a widely known fact that for kids in school, “school bus seating” is as much a rite of passage as a “sweet sixteen” or bagging your first Trout on the River Kwai.
As you board the bus your eyes dart from seat to seat as if you’re looking for Waldo in one of his ill-fated locater books (my point is this: why does he always lose himself in overly crowded places, if all he wants is to be found. He should just go hang out at the Circle K like any other self respectable man). Finally you come to your throne-your champs elysees-your diamond in the rough- your ‘never-caught-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place-if-you-sit-here’…chair. You all know where this most coveted seat is: 3rd from the back, on the right side…window seat. Just when you were certain getting up today was a mistake, the clouds part and sun shines down on you in all its effervescent glory.
Suddenly you think you’ve beaten the omen. That nothing could go wrong the rest of the day because you found “the seat”. Kids might go through their entire 8-12th grade without experiencing “the seat” and yet, here you are, lounging in comfort like the Sultan resting atop a pillowed pacaderm. The world was suddenly your oyster, and you intended to “dig it”. Even a tune made its way into your head, and you began to whistle some of your favorite “golden oldies”.
This euphoria didn’t last long however. The moment you step off the bus a snowball full of what can only be assumed was cat urine splashes across your face. It’s at this moment you begin to question the dame known as Karma. You knew it was going to be an awful day-all the signs pointed to such, and as a result, you were prepared for every rotten occurrence that may come about. But then Karma plays a nasty trick. She gives you hope. She lets you find the perfect seat on the bus, but doesn’t tell you that you’re sitting first class on a one way trip to Crap Town: population: you! You see, riding in “the seat” makes you soft. It makes you think you grew up licking the proverbial silver spoon. As a result you let your guard down. Had you instead sat in the worst possible seat (two rows behind the bus driver, so their mirror is such perfect position, that no matter how you tried to maneuver away from their glances, they could see you with such detail that they even knew how many cavities you had. Had you sat there, you would have had in no doubt the worse ride to school ever, but at least then your mind would have been sharp! You would have known to shoulder roll out of the bus and bolt for the classroom.
But Karma tapped you on the shoulder this particular day, and for better or worse, you found the perfect seat, only to be rewarded with pee soaked snow all over your face. Not one to overly dwell in Eyeore-esque despair, you wipe your face off with your new mitten, and head to class. First thing on Home Room agenda: lice exam. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for the conscious pursuit of a healthy classroom, but I think school nurses just like to tick kids off, and this is their quarterly chance to do it.
To Be Continued…
What a day it had been. You know those days when the moment you wake up, you know you should strongly consider staying in bed the rest of the day. Not because you are sick, or need more rest, or even because you hate the agenda of the day so much you would rather slit your wrists and do pushups in hot water…no…no, the main reason for your considering staying in bed is that from the moment your eyes slowly flickered open, you knew that the fates would align against you that day. Some one, some thing, some idea, was going to get you. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew it was going to be.
Like the man who walks the beach every morning throwing starfish back into the ocean. Hundreds lie before him, scattered across the sandy shoreline. Every day people line the beachhead, watching him save starfish after starfish, applauding his every toss. Then one morning, as he was throwing one particular starfish back to its briny home, a crab lunged out of the sand and clawed him on his pinky toe. Then a jelly fish did a gainer right out of the ocean and marooned itself on his lower neck region, which was an incredible degree of difficulty for the jelly fish, but also an incredible degree of pain for our friend the starfish rescuer.
So as the fateful story of the starfish guy races through your mind, you ponder the ramifications of your decision to stay in bed. After weighing the pro’s and con’s of missing a day of class versus what you expect to be a day from Satan’s underbelly; even going so far as to pull the abacus from beneath your bed, to get a logical and mathematical equation as to the odds you make it safely home again that night without so much as a hint of Murphy’s Law taking place. Once fully satisfied that your life will be miserable for the next 24 hours, but still not in the mood to upset your parents by failing to get to class, you put on your favorite pair of ski pants and Van Halen tee-shirt and walk triumphantly out the front door.
On the way to school you pass Mrs. Wrigley sawing her husbands riding lawn mower in half. While this strikes you as strange because Mrs. Wrigley doesn’t like the smell of 2 stroke motor oil, you’re mind doesn’t reflect too long before moving to the picture of Mr. Wrigley sitting on his grandson’s tricycle, licking a cube of butter, watching his wife go to town on his mower. Memories of your prior decision to not stay in bed are beginning to creep back into your mind, though not for long as the bus is approaching and you have to prepare yourself for which seat you will get. It is a widely known fact that for kids in school, “school bus seating” is as much a rite of passage as a “sweet sixteen” or bagging your first Trout on the River Kwai.
As you board the bus your eyes dart from seat to seat as if you’re looking for Waldo in one of his ill-fated locater books (my point is this: why does he always lose himself in overly crowded places, if all he wants is to be found. He should just go hang out at the Circle K like any other self respectable man). Finally you come to your throne-your champs elysees-your diamond in the rough- your ‘never-caught-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place-if-you-sit-here’…chair. You all know where this most coveted seat is: 3rd from the back, on the right side…window seat. Just when you were certain getting up today was a mistake, the clouds part and sun shines down on you in all its effervescent glory.
Suddenly you think you’ve beaten the omen. That nothing could go wrong the rest of the day because you found “the seat”. Kids might go through their entire 8-12th grade without experiencing “the seat” and yet, here you are, lounging in comfort like the Sultan resting atop a pillowed pacaderm. The world was suddenly your oyster, and you intended to “dig it”. Even a tune made its way into your head, and you began to whistle some of your favorite “golden oldies”.
This euphoria didn’t last long however. The moment you step off the bus a snowball full of what can only be assumed was cat urine splashes across your face. It’s at this moment you begin to question the dame known as Karma. You knew it was going to be an awful day-all the signs pointed to such, and as a result, you were prepared for every rotten occurrence that may come about. But then Karma plays a nasty trick. She gives you hope. She lets you find the perfect seat on the bus, but doesn’t tell you that you’re sitting first class on a one way trip to Crap Town: population: you! You see, riding in “the seat” makes you soft. It makes you think you grew up licking the proverbial silver spoon. As a result you let your guard down. Had you instead sat in the worst possible seat (two rows behind the bus driver, so their mirror is such perfect position, that no matter how you tried to maneuver away from their glances, they could see you with such detail that they even knew how many cavities you had. Had you sat there, you would have had in no doubt the worse ride to school ever, but at least then your mind would have been sharp! You would have known to shoulder roll out of the bus and bolt for the classroom.
But Karma tapped you on the shoulder this particular day, and for better or worse, you found the perfect seat, only to be rewarded with pee soaked snow all over your face. Not one to overly dwell in Eyeore-esque despair, you wipe your face off with your new mitten, and head to class. First thing on Home Room agenda: lice exam. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for the conscious pursuit of a healthy classroom, but I think school nurses just like to tick kids off, and this is their quarterly chance to do it.
To Be Continued…
I Told You So...
You know when your mom tells you not to lick a frozen pole because it will get stuck? Then your friends dare you by saying they’ll give you a dollar, and hey, what kid doesn’t need a dollar? So you end up licking it, getting stuck, and calling your mom through a muffled and embarrassing scream. Three cups of warm water and a thousand taste buds later, your mom calmly says to you “I told you so!” Those ‘I told you so’ moments are so precious aren’t they? I mean, what kid on earth hasn’t heard the ‘I told you so’ saying at least a million times from their parents?
Well, having established that we’ve all had the ‘I told you so’ drill, but have you ever experienced the ‘I told myself so’ story? Yes, I feel this happens at the moment when we are no longer dependents of our parents, thus we don’t have them telling us right from wrong, however we are old enough that oftentimes our minds have already gone through the ‘is this going to work’ process, and having come to the conclusion that this is not a good idea at all, we proceed to “lick the frozen pole”.
This very thing has happened to me on a number of occasions. There was one time when I was snorkeling off the coast of Kauai when I saw a vehicle that resembled a small submarine. Now comes the thought process: for what seemed like an eternity I waged battle with my subconscious about the pro’s and con’s of exploring this small submarine. In the end my mind said no, don’t do it. So of course that left me no option but to go and take a look. Upon reaching the outer shell of this strange sea vessel, I realized that it wasn’t a submarine at all, but a giant cucumber! As you can imagine, I was quite disturbed at the thought of a giant cucumber floating through the Pacific Ocean!
The origin of this cucumber is neither known nor important, suffice it to say that you could easily make quite a bit of cucumber salad with this sucker (mmm, cucumber salad with a little bit of vinegar, that would be great, especially with a nice BLT sandwich where the bacon is nice and crisp, and the tomato is so moist! Perfecto!). Upon examination of said cucumber, I found it had several electronic panels on it, with many random buttons and triggers. Once again the battle waged inside my head to touch the buttons, to not touch the buttons, and once again my mind said definitely not. So I of course began pressing buttons with such fever that I thought I was playing Wack-a-Mole at the fair! This was thoroughly exhilarating, as it took me back to a simpler time on the farm in Athens, GA.
My brothers and I (there were 16 in all) used to play a game where we would throw M80’s down the rabbit hole and see them come scramming up the other side. Then one time we decided to do it in a port-o-john only the fuse didn’t burn down as quick, and right when we ran out to wait for the explosion my uncle frank walked in to “read the funnies” as he liked to call it. Well let’s just say that he didn’t even get “the paper open” before that M80 put a scare into him like the Manager of an all you can eat buffet seeing my aunt petunia walking in for “Bingo Night”.
Where was I? Oh yeah: cucumber, buttons, wack-a-mole, aunt Petunia (ever wonder how one of your story’s end up being about something completely different then what you originally wanted?)
Anyway, so this cucumber begins to shake in the water, and I begin to ask myself two questions. First, why am I still in the water? I hate it when I get pruney! Secondly, I’m thinking: This shaking can not be a good sign!
And it wasn’t, so basically what had happened, is that my aunt Petunia and my uncle Frank wanted to get back at me for all the stuff I did to them, and so they launched this giant cucumber from Georgia, directing it where to go via this satellite, and they, knowing that I loved to push shiny buttons, programmed the cucumber to explode just as I was gleefully pressing the knobs and triggers.
Long story short, I knew I shouldn’t approach the cucumber, I knew I shouldn’t press the buttons, but I did anyway, and what did it get me? A whole lot of cucumber right in the schnozz. Lesson Learned: I told myself so!
Well, having established that we’ve all had the ‘I told you so’ drill, but have you ever experienced the ‘I told myself so’ story? Yes, I feel this happens at the moment when we are no longer dependents of our parents, thus we don’t have them telling us right from wrong, however we are old enough that oftentimes our minds have already gone through the ‘is this going to work’ process, and having come to the conclusion that this is not a good idea at all, we proceed to “lick the frozen pole”.
This very thing has happened to me on a number of occasions. There was one time when I was snorkeling off the coast of Kauai when I saw a vehicle that resembled a small submarine. Now comes the thought process: for what seemed like an eternity I waged battle with my subconscious about the pro’s and con’s of exploring this small submarine. In the end my mind said no, don’t do it. So of course that left me no option but to go and take a look. Upon reaching the outer shell of this strange sea vessel, I realized that it wasn’t a submarine at all, but a giant cucumber! As you can imagine, I was quite disturbed at the thought of a giant cucumber floating through the Pacific Ocean!
The origin of this cucumber is neither known nor important, suffice it to say that you could easily make quite a bit of cucumber salad with this sucker (mmm, cucumber salad with a little bit of vinegar, that would be great, especially with a nice BLT sandwich where the bacon is nice and crisp, and the tomato is so moist! Perfecto!). Upon examination of said cucumber, I found it had several electronic panels on it, with many random buttons and triggers. Once again the battle waged inside my head to touch the buttons, to not touch the buttons, and once again my mind said definitely not. So I of course began pressing buttons with such fever that I thought I was playing Wack-a-Mole at the fair! This was thoroughly exhilarating, as it took me back to a simpler time on the farm in Athens, GA.
My brothers and I (there were 16 in all) used to play a game where we would throw M80’s down the rabbit hole and see them come scramming up the other side. Then one time we decided to do it in a port-o-john only the fuse didn’t burn down as quick, and right when we ran out to wait for the explosion my uncle frank walked in to “read the funnies” as he liked to call it. Well let’s just say that he didn’t even get “the paper open” before that M80 put a scare into him like the Manager of an all you can eat buffet seeing my aunt petunia walking in for “Bingo Night”.
Where was I? Oh yeah: cucumber, buttons, wack-a-mole, aunt Petunia (ever wonder how one of your story’s end up being about something completely different then what you originally wanted?)
Anyway, so this cucumber begins to shake in the water, and I begin to ask myself two questions. First, why am I still in the water? I hate it when I get pruney! Secondly, I’m thinking: This shaking can not be a good sign!
And it wasn’t, so basically what had happened, is that my aunt Petunia and my uncle Frank wanted to get back at me for all the stuff I did to them, and so they launched this giant cucumber from Georgia, directing it where to go via this satellite, and they, knowing that I loved to push shiny buttons, programmed the cucumber to explode just as I was gleefully pressing the knobs and triggers.
Long story short, I knew I shouldn’t approach the cucumber, I knew I shouldn’t press the buttons, but I did anyway, and what did it get me? A whole lot of cucumber right in the schnozz. Lesson Learned: I told myself so!
Lottery=Muffins
Winning the Lottery is like eating a nice batch of assorted muffins from Costco. Before you even rip off the shrink-wrap, your mind is already processing the thousands of variations which to eat the muffins. Blueberry, Poppy seed, then the Double Chocolate Chip. No…wait….Blueberry, Double Chocolate Chip, then the gross banana nut with pecans on them, followed by a great poppy seed to make up for the nasty one previous… no…Cut up 4 different muffins into quarters, then take a quarter from each, mash it together and eat it like an apple! Yeah, that's it! An apple shaped-mashed muffin of ecstasy!!! And that’s kind of what the lottery is like.
Friday, April 9, 2010
I Love the Masters!!
I had Blake yesterday, and he is still getting over his Shingles, so it was mostly an "inside day". His medicine makes him rather drowsy, so he spent a lot of the afternoon in and out of consciousness. The one good thing is that it was the first round of the Masters. I look forward to this weekend every year! The first round this year did not disappoint either! How about Freddie Couples?? amazing. I would love for He, Tom Watson, and Tiger to be in the final pairing on Sunday. Fred and Tiger played a couple practice rounds together and are friends, and Tom was fairly critical of Tiger over the past several months, so it would be interesting to see them go head to head down the last nine.... I'm working the rest of the weekend, so my DVR is going to have a lot of golf on it!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
remember when: topic continued...
I think, had we been just a little more business minded back in high school, we could have made a killing on creating and distributing "daydreaming mix cds". maybe titled "NOW that's what I call Daydreaming: soft jams you can really get your nap on to!" Missed an opportunity there. There seem to be certain artists that just exude "trips down memory lane" type songs. Several have been mentioned. Lifehouse is a huge one- so many great songs on what was it, their 2nd album?! When I replay my own personal video yearbook in my mind, Lifehouse is on the soundtrack several times.
I can't possibly talk about music-related memories without mentioning the King of Pop! I don't know how many people we had in Brad's car (the Nissan was it?), but it was packed, we put on "Black and White" and turned it up as high as it would go-all the windows rolled down. I'm sure we were heading somewhere, but for some reason my memory just has us circling the high school parking lot for the duration of the song. Then there's the Soundtrack for O Brother Where Art Thou- doing the El Guapo dance, while "Man of Constant Sorrow" filled the Senior Hallway....(we were so cool)
and then there's sweet sweet Journey. I can not for the life of me name another song that was on the Senior Prom Theme ballot. Was there ever any doubt Faithfully would be the one? Does anyone remember after it was announced, how excited Knowland was? I walked into the Seminary building and he was telling a group of Sophomores how that was his Prom Theme Song! You could see the joy on his face as he thought back... Hows that for a two-fer? Journey brings back memories of other people's memories! crazy good
Finally, how great was Dave's Bed?? It was the perfect canvas for our daydreaming scenery. Many of my fondest high school memories took place on that bed. That statement must sound very strange to outsiders, but that's just because you haven't had the blessed occasion to rest your proverbial laurels on that mattress and just veg out on some spectacular tunes! It was Euphoric.
Now if you excuse me, I'm going to pull out my yearbooks and put on some James Taylor~
I can't possibly talk about music-related memories without mentioning the King of Pop! I don't know how many people we had in Brad's car (the Nissan was it?), but it was packed, we put on "Black and White" and turned it up as high as it would go-all the windows rolled down. I'm sure we were heading somewhere, but for some reason my memory just has us circling the high school parking lot for the duration of the song. Then there's the Soundtrack for O Brother Where Art Thou- doing the El Guapo dance, while "Man of Constant Sorrow" filled the Senior Hallway....(we were so cool)
and then there's sweet sweet Journey. I can not for the life of me name another song that was on the Senior Prom Theme ballot. Was there ever any doubt Faithfully would be the one? Does anyone remember after it was announced, how excited Knowland was? I walked into the Seminary building and he was telling a group of Sophomores how that was his Prom Theme Song! You could see the joy on his face as he thought back... Hows that for a two-fer? Journey brings back memories of other people's memories! crazy good
Finally, how great was Dave's Bed?? It was the perfect canvas for our daydreaming scenery. Many of my fondest high school memories took place on that bed. That statement must sound very strange to outsiders, but that's just because you haven't had the blessed occasion to rest your proverbial laurels on that mattress and just veg out on some spectacular tunes! It was Euphoric.
Now if you excuse me, I'm going to pull out my yearbooks and put on some James Taylor~
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Remember When...
So does anyone else have those moments when, you're driving in the car, or alone by yourself somewhere and something reminds you of a moment in your past? It happens to me all the time. Music especially brings flashbacks. For instance, tonight I was driving up to Scottsdale for a basketball game, and turned the AM sports radio show I was listening to, to FM to get a little energy for the game. Halo by Beyonce was on (one of my favorites, but that's another story). After Halo, I switched the station and Creed's "Higher" came on. I just started laughing out loud because I think of two things when I hear Creed. First is Scott Hall, he loved Creed (and may still, I haven't spoken to him in awhile). Second is a state soccer game against Mountain View. We had some student assistant coach from BYU, and on the bus ride up, he was trying to get us pumped up, so he gathered the Varsity in the back of the bus, pulled out a portable boom box, and said "Guys, for today's game, I want you all to go Higher" and he pressed play. But he had the wrong track on and "with arms wide open" came on instead. As I drove up to Scottsdale, I was laughing out loud at the pure spectacle of this guy trying to pump up a bunch of high school kids, and failing miserably as he turned on a slower song about nostalgia and fatherly responsibilities....HaHa! Priceless. We lost to Mtn. View, I wonder if it's because we didn't "go higher"? I think the only person pumped up by his speech was Scott! :) Such good times.
I mean, of all the songs people use for pregame music, I don't think Creed is ever on the play list. Period. Ahh, so funny....
I mean, of all the songs people use for pregame music, I don't think Creed is ever on the play list. Period. Ahh, so funny....
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Blake is incredible
Blake will be 21 months next week!?!? It's crazy that 2 years is fast approaching. I took him to the zoo last week. I wasn't sure how he'd like it. Dalisa had taken him a few months ago, and he wasn't too into it. But this time, he was all about it! He was mostly into the squirrels and birds eating zoo snacks that had fallen by the wayside, even more so than the exotic animals behind the various fences. But the pure joy in his face melted my heart!
He loves to come grab my hand and show me things. The other day, he was playing with his basketball hoop, and he came and grabbed my hand while I was sitting on the couch (3 feet away from the basketball hoop), and led me over to where he was dunking the ball, just so I could get a better view of his accomplishment :)
But I digress, back to the zoo (I jump at any chance I get to speak of his athletic prowess :) ... Blake loves Ducks. He and Dalisa sometimes go to feed the ducks by her house...we didn't have bread, but I had several ritz crackers. I gave Blake one to eat, and when he saw some other kids feeding the ducks, he threw in the remainder of his cracker, which brought more ducks over.
I gave him another cracker, which he took a bite of, and then proceeded again to throw the remainder in the water. He was very happy to share his crackers with the ducks.
After the Zoo, we decided to go up to Desert Ridge (Another JW Marriott Resort in the Valley). They have a sweet lazy river, and also a Nickelodeon kids program. Spongebob and Dora make appearances in the lobby each afternoon. We had an in, since my friend's girlfriend works in the Nick Kids program. So we went and swam for a little while (Blake looks total "surfer chic" but isn't really into the swimming thing yet. We're working on it though).
We went around the lazy river once, stopping for a brief time to watch the Nick Crew put pie in some guests' faces. I took Blake out of the tube, and tried to get him to swim a little bit. He wasn't having any of it. So I set him on the step of the pool, water going up to his waist. He took a few steps forward, stepped off the step and dunked himself in the water. He did not like this experience at all. I took him back around to our chairs, and after a few minutes of recovery asked if he wanted to go in again.
He didn't answer, but the look on his face gave a sort of "do i look like I want to go in the water?? If I want to get wet again, I'll get in myself, but until then, I'm good right here..."We went inside to see Spongebob and Dora...I had hyped it up all day by telling Blake he was going to see Spongebob, etc.... he was excited!...until he actually saw Spongebob that is...then he got really scared.
You could see his little mind at work though. He kept a safe distance away, but always had an eye on the characters... I'd love to know what he's thinking in this photo. It could be something like "Get those gigantic cartoon characters away from me!" or it could be "did I turn off the iron?" both are valid reasons to worry I guess :)
Survey Says: AWESOME!!!
So the "Kneaders French Toast Knockoff Project" went very well in my opinion. I wish I would have taken a picture of my rendition, so you all could compare to the picture I stole from the web. I have some left overs, and I'm tempted to "plate up" a little presentation, but then I'd have to eat it, and though there are several differences between my french toast and the Kneaders original, one thing that remains similar is how full I feel after eating way more than I should have. It reminded me of the morning Justin, Brad, and I had breakfast at the Orem store. I can't remember exactly, but if memory serves, we each ended up eating 6 or 7 portions...wait..what's that? You mean, we're not in high school anymore? we don't have raging Metabolisms that would allow us to devour a Buick, if enough barbecue sauce was provided? Oh...ok then. Perhaps it was only 2 portions consumed by each of us, with someone eating half of a third... Yeah, that sounds more accurate.
Bottom Line is, this is a really good french toast recipe. So here it is-please enjoy!
From my extensive Food Network watching, I've learned that when doing French Toast, choosing the right bread is critical. The experts like going with a Challa or Brioche bread. I picked up some Challa from Arizona Bread Company yesterday before work.
I sliced it on a bit of a slant to get slices that had a lot more bread, and a little less crust.
Slice the bread, set it aside.
Mix together:
8 eggs
3 cups milk
1T brown sugar
1T vanilla
3tsp salt
2T cinnamon
Take a glass 9x14 baking dish and butter down the bottom and sides.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Thoroughly soak the bread in the egg mixture (the recipe I went off said to lay the bread in the dish, pour the mixture over the bread, and then refrigerate for an hour to overnight, but I soaked each piece individually for about 3-5 minutes and then set it in the dish).
lay the bread in the glass baking dish
sprinkle each piece with a little cinnamon
cut 2T of butter into tiny cubes and dot over top.
bake for 45-50 minutes.
Syrup:
1c brown sugar
1c heavy cream
1c light karo syrup
heat on stove, stirring until sugar is dissolved and it's warmed through.
we put some cool whip, a fruit compote of fresh strawberries and bananas, and the syrup on top of the french toast and it was Divine.
Eat Your Heart Out Bobby Flay!
Bottom Line is, this is a really good french toast recipe. So here it is-please enjoy!
From my extensive Food Network watching, I've learned that when doing French Toast, choosing the right bread is critical. The experts like going with a Challa or Brioche bread. I picked up some Challa from Arizona Bread Company yesterday before work.
I sliced it on a bit of a slant to get slices that had a lot more bread, and a little less crust.
Slice the bread, set it aside.
Mix together:
8 eggs
3 cups milk
1T brown sugar
1T vanilla
3tsp salt
2T cinnamon
Take a glass 9x14 baking dish and butter down the bottom and sides.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Thoroughly soak the bread in the egg mixture (the recipe I went off said to lay the bread in the dish, pour the mixture over the bread, and then refrigerate for an hour to overnight, but I soaked each piece individually for about 3-5 minutes and then set it in the dish).
lay the bread in the glass baking dish
sprinkle each piece with a little cinnamon
cut 2T of butter into tiny cubes and dot over top.
bake for 45-50 minutes.
Syrup:
1c brown sugar
1c heavy cream
1c light karo syrup
heat on stove, stirring until sugar is dissolved and it's warmed through.
we put some cool whip, a fruit compote of fresh strawberries and bananas, and the syrup on top of the french toast and it was Divine.
Eat Your Heart Out Bobby Flay!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Kneaders All You Can Eat French Toast
On my recent return to Zion, I had the wonderful opportunity to partake in the blissfully sublime "Chunky Cinnamon French Toast." Since that moment of eye-opening euphoria, I have had many an occasion to ponder the delicate combination of cinnamon, spice, and everything nice. The memories/drooling culminated the other night as I was watching an ultimate french toast Throw Down with Bobby Flay. And so...being that it's Easter/General Conference Weekend, and I was fortunate to get it off, I'm going to make some. I got the recipe online...I have to make a few adjustments, being that I will be without "1 loaf Kneaders Cinnamon Bread" but all in all, I'm very excited about it!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Hotel Musings
When the hotel is full, there is always a better chance for a good story. Especially with Leisure Guests....
I've been amazed lately at the ease at which people can lie, cheat, and scam. Clearly these people have never been involved in scouting! Anyway, I have had the pleasure of dealing with a few interesting guests the past few days. One in particular happened yesterday (on my birthday...maybe it was a sign). Here's what happened...
A Guest checks in the other day (we'll call them the Browns...) Thursday night the Browns order Room Service. Fillet of Salmon, Chicken Chopped Salad, bowl of berries and yogurt. Room Service delivers the meal and when he is setting the tray down, he notices that they didn't get Forks, only knives and spoons. "I'm so sorry" he says to Mrs. Brown, "It looks like we didn't put forks on your tray, let me go get some for you and bring them back."
"Well I don't need a fork for my food, but I think my husband does, so if you could bring one back that would be great." The Room Service Attendant leaves and returns 5 minutes later with a fork for Mr. Brown. They sign the check (with a tip, which means they weren't terribly upset at the moment) and retire for the evening. Fast forward to Friday night...As the Brown's are ordering room service for dinner again, Mr. Brown goes off on how ridiculous it was that they didn't get any forks last night!
"This is a five diamond property! We've been coming here for 9 years! I've never had such a disastrous meal!!"
"I'm so sorry Mr. Brown, let me follow up with Room Service and see what happened." replies the operator. She calls room service, who apologizes to the operator and tells the story of the previous night. It was an honest mistake, but if the guest is that upset, room service is happy to give them free dessert tonight ($15 or so). The operator calls the guest back apologizes again for not bringing forks up last night, assures him everything will be in place for his order this evening, and lets him know that his dessert is on us. this is not enough for him, he wants to speak with the Manager on Duty.
(enter stage left: Me).
I call the guest back, inquire as to how I may be of assistance. He retells me the fork story, and how it ruined his dinner because both he and his wife had to eat with spoons. On top of that, the yogurt was horrible (he said it was raw, or plain, or awful, or all three, I had a hard time understanding him through his thick NY accent and what sounded like muffled expletives.
"Mr. Brown, I apologize for the trouble you had last night during your dinner. I think there was a misunderstanding, As I understand it, the room service attendant apologized for not bringing up forks and explained that he would go get some, at which time your wife said that you only needed one. Does this sound like what happened?"
"Absolutely not! he said that you all 'ran out of forks' and that's why there weren't any on the tray!" (side note, we have some 12,000 forks on this property. The room service attendant has worked here for quite some time and would never tell someone "we ran out of forks")
Then I said "But I do understand that he did bring you back a fork?"
"yes, but we needed two"
so up to this point the guest said that He didn't get forks at all, and ate his meal with a spoon, then when I told him I knew that he got at least one fork, he changed his story. this is awesome.
"well I apologize again for the inconvenience Mr. Brown. I was here last night and would have loved to fix the problem for you then, but I'm only hearing about this just now. I have been assured by room service that everything is correct on your order tonight and they even took care of dessert for you."
"well, it was late last night and we were tired" (I've learned that people who are merely looking for free bees never call/complain the day of the issue. It's always at check out or later in the stay so we can't actually fix whatever was wrong, all we can do at that point is give them something.
Mr. Brown went on to say, "and I don't think a free dessert for all of our trouble is enough."
Usually at this point I have a few decisions to make. 1- I can just comp their meal and be done with them. on one hand it saves me a lot of time, and ultimately that's what this guy wants, but on the other hand, he doesn't deserve a $90 meal just because we forgot forks, especially when we offered to go get them for him. 2- I can remain firm and say that I'm not doing anything else for them. On one hand this will make me feel better for not giving in to such a cheapskate. but on the other, if he's persistent enough it may go above me and he'll get a free meal anyway, so why go through the whole ordeal.
well, I wasn't in the best of moods that night and this guy was really upsetting me, so I chose option 2!
"Mr. Brown, I do feel really bad about this misunderstanding and I know that you know that this is a rare mishap for us. Since you are repeat customers and have come back for 9 years, I know that you enjoy the service we provide and recognize that this was an honest mistake. But since it was a mistake, we did want to do something on our end to show you our sincerity. So Room Service has taken care of your dessert as a good will gesture. I am not willing to comp any thing above and beyond the dessert, but if you would like, I can have the Room Service Manager call you in the morning and she may want to do something more for you."
"well, aren't you the MOD? Don't you have the authority to do more?"
"That is correct Mr. Brown, but I feel like the current compensation is appropriate given the circumstances, so it's not that I'm unable to take more off your bill, it's just that I don't feel comfortable doing it."
In the end, Mr. Brown did complain once more about the yogurt from the previous night, so I told him I would take that off his bill. But that was it.
I ask you America (and when I say America, I really mean my friends and family who I have guilted into reading my blog), what kind of society have we become when an honest mistake like forgetting forks, and one that is easily fixed nonetheless, has become so egregious that the only compensation acceptable is taking off the entire dinner charge of $90? I'm appalled.
I've been amazed lately at the ease at which people can lie, cheat, and scam. Clearly these people have never been involved in scouting! Anyway, I have had the pleasure of dealing with a few interesting guests the past few days. One in particular happened yesterday (on my birthday...maybe it was a sign). Here's what happened...
A Guest checks in the other day (we'll call them the Browns...) Thursday night the Browns order Room Service. Fillet of Salmon, Chicken Chopped Salad, bowl of berries and yogurt. Room Service delivers the meal and when he is setting the tray down, he notices that they didn't get Forks, only knives and spoons. "I'm so sorry" he says to Mrs. Brown, "It looks like we didn't put forks on your tray, let me go get some for you and bring them back."
"Well I don't need a fork for my food, but I think my husband does, so if you could bring one back that would be great." The Room Service Attendant leaves and returns 5 minutes later with a fork for Mr. Brown. They sign the check (with a tip, which means they weren't terribly upset at the moment) and retire for the evening. Fast forward to Friday night...As the Brown's are ordering room service for dinner again, Mr. Brown goes off on how ridiculous it was that they didn't get any forks last night!
"This is a five diamond property! We've been coming here for 9 years! I've never had such a disastrous meal!!"
"I'm so sorry Mr. Brown, let me follow up with Room Service and see what happened." replies the operator. She calls room service, who apologizes to the operator and tells the story of the previous night. It was an honest mistake, but if the guest is that upset, room service is happy to give them free dessert tonight ($15 or so). The operator calls the guest back apologizes again for not bringing forks up last night, assures him everything will be in place for his order this evening, and lets him know that his dessert is on us. this is not enough for him, he wants to speak with the Manager on Duty.
(enter stage left: Me).
I call the guest back, inquire as to how I may be of assistance. He retells me the fork story, and how it ruined his dinner because both he and his wife had to eat with spoons. On top of that, the yogurt was horrible (he said it was raw, or plain, or awful, or all three, I had a hard time understanding him through his thick NY accent and what sounded like muffled expletives.
"Mr. Brown, I apologize for the trouble you had last night during your dinner. I think there was a misunderstanding, As I understand it, the room service attendant apologized for not bringing up forks and explained that he would go get some, at which time your wife said that you only needed one. Does this sound like what happened?"
"Absolutely not! he said that you all 'ran out of forks' and that's why there weren't any on the tray!" (side note, we have some 12,000 forks on this property. The room service attendant has worked here for quite some time and would never tell someone "we ran out of forks")
Then I said "But I do understand that he did bring you back a fork?"
"yes, but we needed two"
so up to this point the guest said that He didn't get forks at all, and ate his meal with a spoon, then when I told him I knew that he got at least one fork, he changed his story. this is awesome.
"well I apologize again for the inconvenience Mr. Brown. I was here last night and would have loved to fix the problem for you then, but I'm only hearing about this just now. I have been assured by room service that everything is correct on your order tonight and they even took care of dessert for you."
"well, it was late last night and we were tired" (I've learned that people who are merely looking for free bees never call/complain the day of the issue. It's always at check out or later in the stay so we can't actually fix whatever was wrong, all we can do at that point is give them something.
Mr. Brown went on to say, "and I don't think a free dessert for all of our trouble is enough."
Usually at this point I have a few decisions to make. 1- I can just comp their meal and be done with them. on one hand it saves me a lot of time, and ultimately that's what this guy wants, but on the other hand, he doesn't deserve a $90 meal just because we forgot forks, especially when we offered to go get them for him. 2- I can remain firm and say that I'm not doing anything else for them. On one hand this will make me feel better for not giving in to such a cheapskate. but on the other, if he's persistent enough it may go above me and he'll get a free meal anyway, so why go through the whole ordeal.
well, I wasn't in the best of moods that night and this guy was really upsetting me, so I chose option 2!
"Mr. Brown, I do feel really bad about this misunderstanding and I know that you know that this is a rare mishap for us. Since you are repeat customers and have come back for 9 years, I know that you enjoy the service we provide and recognize that this was an honest mistake. But since it was a mistake, we did want to do something on our end to show you our sincerity. So Room Service has taken care of your dessert as a good will gesture. I am not willing to comp any thing above and beyond the dessert, but if you would like, I can have the Room Service Manager call you in the morning and she may want to do something more for you."
"well, aren't you the MOD? Don't you have the authority to do more?"
"That is correct Mr. Brown, but I feel like the current compensation is appropriate given the circumstances, so it's not that I'm unable to take more off your bill, it's just that I don't feel comfortable doing it."
In the end, Mr. Brown did complain once more about the yogurt from the previous night, so I told him I would take that off his bill. But that was it.
I ask you America (and when I say America, I really mean my friends and family who I have guilted into reading my blog), what kind of society have we become when an honest mistake like forgetting forks, and one that is easily fixed nonetheless, has become so egregious that the only compensation acceptable is taking off the entire dinner charge of $90? I'm appalled.
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