Just Desserts

Last week I had a temp assignment at a local hotel.  They are traveling seminars, basically.  I assist the speaker at the site.  I do quite a lot of these and really enjoy them because 1. they're easy and 2. folks are friendly and 3. I usually get a free lunch.   Naturally when I heard this was my next assignment, I was stoked.

I arrived at 6:45am to help the speaker assemble the greeting table. This is basically placing out manuals and teaching tools and getting their sign in-out register ready etc.  It is also my job to make sure that the hotel has breakfast set up in the meeting room, etc.

My speaker is Dr. Greenberg and I spot him coming towards me in a speedy fashion.  He's wearing a button-down and tie and black jeans.  His hair is grey and his brows furrowed.  From a distance I can tell he's flummoxed.

I extend my hand to introduce myself and he flies right past it, and me.  Great.

He spins on his heel and turns around, glaring at me.  "Where are my books?", he demands.  "Um...good morning, I'm Jenny", I stammer.

"Yes.  Yes, Jenny. Where are my books?  They were supposed to be delivered to this hotel yesterday".  "They are no where to be found"!

Since I had just arrived, I wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about.  Turns out, the good Doctor had shipped his own personal books (for sale) to the hotel and the hotel up to this point, had not been able to locate them.

Doc sent me up to the front desk to raise hell with the clerks up there.  After around 30 minutes of my trying to locate said books upstairs, the elevator opens and here comes the good Doctor.  By now his brow is so furrowed that his Karl Malden-looking eyebrows have actually become one.

"STILL ...nothing"!?!?, he bellows at me at the rest of the early morning staff.
The hotel manager tries to calmly explain that she is doing her very best to locate this package but again, she's as befuddled as he is to it's whereabouts.  This is where the good Doctor makes an absolute scene.  He rants and raves and demands a complimentary breakfast (due to his obvious pain and suffering) and then proceeds to pretty much tell us all that we're a bunch of drool-covered mouth breathing idiots and he should have expected as much dealing with so called "professionals" in the South.

I had decided about an hour prior to all of this that I'm not paid enough to give a shit so I don't take this tirade personally.  I do however feel somewhat embarrassed for the hotel manager and her staff.  I feel somewhat better when she slips me a wink after he storms off.  She obviously deals with this kind of thing quite frequently.

Later that afternoon the hotel manager locates me outside of the ballroom.  She's carrying a package.  His package.  Her face reflects controlled delight.  She gives me the package and explains the circumstances.  I can barely control myself.

I find the good Doctor on break and approach him with package extended.
"Well, it's ABOUT TIME", he booms, making sure his students hear our exchange.  "Where in God's name was it"!?

"The freezer", I reply.   He cocks his head and gives me a puzzled look.  "Apparently when you packed these books up at your last engagement you forgot to cross out the "KEEP FROZEN - Coconut Creme Pies" stamp on all FOUR sides of the box.  The hotel has had this in the freezer since yesterday's delivery."
"
He just stood there, mouth agape.

I handed him the icy cold box.  Better open 'em up and thaw 'em out!", I said, giggling just enough that he could hear it.

I only make around $10 an hour for these gigs.  His teeth-gritting silence?  Priceless.