Let’s Check-In, shall we?

Today I introduce Innkeeper Innsights, a running newsletter of sorts that will allow me to comment on updates, changes and happenings regarding ConfessInns: The Innkeeper Chronicles and its companion site ConfessInns.com. I will also post and answer questions/comments and perhaps even spout off about any off-topic rants that may be lingering in my thoughts or cramping my brain. But I should not digress when...

I Must Confess…

A last minute glitch in a banquet set-up for Mrs. Esther Carver’s book club sent me scurrying to a first floor storage room ten minutes after 7PM one Tuesday night, long after the point when I should have been gone for the day and enjoying General Tso chicken from my favorite Chinese restaurant (extra spicy!) and catching up with my DVR. It seemed Mrs. Carver’s request for maroon colored tablecloths was overlooked and the tables were dressed with cream colored cloths instead. Pressed for time with only twenty minutes until the sea of gray-haired ladies began their enthralling discussion of the latest Danielle Steele installment, I apologized and dashed away to change them out personally.

As I made my way down a dark hallway between the kitchen and the ballroom, I noticed a light coming from Mack’s office, the Inn’s Food and Beverage Manager. I walked by and waved, but his back was turned towards me as I passed; he was hunched over and rearranging a series of items sprawled out on his desk. I reached the storage room, slide my key card through the lock and felt for a light switch. The maroon cloths sat in a mangled pile on the top shelf of a four tier wall organizer. They were clean in appearance and smelled divine, but had wrinkles that looked like a complex spider web of criss-crosses and zig-zags leading everywhere and nowhere; covering every square inch. Committed to try, though not entirely convinced of its plausibility, I loaded my arms with tablecloths and headed to the Housekeeping Department to battle the army of wrinkles with hot irons and steam in the hopes of making the looming book club deadline.

I dashed back down the hallway and stopped this time at Mack’s door; I could now see that the items he had laid out were from his wallet: small pictures of children and pets, piles of ATM and fast food receipts, loose change, seven or eight dollars in ones, a few old movie stubs and more.

“Hey, Mack – you want to lend me a hand or two?” I asked while peeking over the leaning pile of table cloths in my arms.

“Where you going with these?” he said as he lifted off the top half of the pile.

“We need these pressed for the book club in fifteen minutes; how are you with an iron?” I repositioned my remaining load to rest on my hip.

“We’ll get these knocked out in ten,” Mack replied, “as long as you let me back into my office afterward, I’m not finished yet and this door is going to lock behind me.”

On the way to Housekeeping and all throughout our Olympic ironing challenge, Mack discussed his after-hours wallet project. He was excited about upgrading from a generic bi-fold Velcro version to a new tri-fold leather one. With the enthusiasm of a new car owner, Mack described the features which included double the compartment space, a transparent driver’s license window, functional zipper pocket and convenient security clasp. Even though the old one was perfectly fine and acceptable by basic standards, the new one looked much better, provided superior organization and allowed easier access. I understood the logic,despite my personal feelings towards wallets in general, a relationship that was turbulent and regrettable at best. I recall when I received my first wallet and the conversation I had with my father regarding it.

“A wallet is a very important possession,you’ll probably keep this for 10 years,” he said, “I had my first wallet for 10 years – you get attached, like a lucky charm.”

Looking back I have two thoughts – One: someone should start a support group for obsessive wallet lovers and Two: my father was quite mistaken about my wallet’s longevity. I lost the first and every one I have ever owned, right along the cash, ID and credit cards it held. I can hardly bare to imagine the time I’ve lost standing in line at the DMV for replacement identification or the torturous hours of hold music  I endured  while canceling cards and stopping charges.

I thought of the exchange I had with Mack when I decided to make some updates and improvements to ConfessInns.com and the Innkeeper Chronicles:

Updates & BulletInns

• Today you’ll notice a completely new look at ConfessInns.com, which is now fully integrated with The Innkeeper Chronicles to ensure fast, efficient navigation and a bunch of little extras for those who wish to spend more time in my little world.

• Share your thoughts on new/experimental features such as Daily BulletInns, Hospitality Headlines, Group ConfessInn Polls and more, which will be appearing throughout the ConfessInns website over the coming weeks and months. Plus, opportunities to share your own ConfessInns!
  

Reader Feedback:

Some items currently under consideration based on popularity of requests:

The Inn’s Family Tree – a detailed diagram of the Inn’s staff members mentioned in the chronicles and a summary of memorable guests.

Reader ConfessInns – stories and reflections submitted by readers that work in the hospitality industry or have had a memorable guest experience.

Weekly Whisper

Shhh. You didn't hear this from me but rumor has it that the next new chronicle is an open-ended tale of a mysterious guest room that qualifies as odd in every sense of the word.

Thank-you

My appreciation goes out to my subscribers,loyal readers and the quick passers-by that take the time join in the ever challenging, always chaotic, often peculiar and fantastically rewarding journey of an Innkeeper and his chronicles. Sleep well!

Oh, what happened with Mrs. Carver?  She received her freshly pressed maroon table cloths about fifteen minutes late. To make up for the inconvenience, Mack and I stayed another half hour to bake two complimentary sheets of cookies for the book club, a gesture that went over smashingly and put the complaints to rest.

Exhausted, I finally stepped through my front door at 8:42PM, slid off my shoes, loosened my tie and called in my order for General Tso chicken – extra spicy.