He was sweating and knew that his Master found this highly unacceptable. He turned, blotted and then resumed the appearance: steel-spined, nose slightly in the air and an ever knowing look.
The next client would be his, alone. Master would oversee, but the fledgling concierge would handle everything himself.
An aged woman began a slow approach to the desk and he knew not to judge by appearances, so was solicitous.
"May I assist you, Madam?"
She nodded and asked him to bend down to her five foot height. "I need assistance in purchasing my products."
"Yes, Ma'am." He said without any reluctance.
She handed him a folded magazine ad and as he smoothed it, she said. "Suite 440."
He nodded and went to work ordering her incontinence supplies. No problem.
His next clients were bachelor party guests. The party was all set, but the strippers had cancelled. They would need three strippers; blonde, brunette and redhead.
Strippers ordered, he made rounds of the lobby, looking for someone who was searching for most anything. He found no one.
The delivery service stopped by the desk and asked for room 440. He decided to go with them, for he would not allow her to be embarrassed.
She was at least five minutes coming to the door and he dismissed the courier. He would handle this himself. She opened the door and allowed him to enter.
The sweeping vista of Central Park took his breath away. He suddenly realized who she was; the widow of the owner of the hotel property and financier, Mr. Able Goodman.
"Young man?" She gestured to a chair with the best view of the park. "Is this the first time you have seen the view from here?
"Yes, Ma'am and this is amazing!" He could have sat there for many hours per day and knew that she did.
"May I stow your items for you?"
She nodded. "I still haven't found a new maid since Clary died. I don't have the heart to replace here."
"When you are ready, I will help you with the particulars and investigation of applicants."
"Thank you young man. You may 'stow' as you call it, in the bathroom closet, but on the low shelves, please." She smiled.
Her suite was from another era and was as Art Deco as he had ever seen. Everything needed a good freshening though. The sheen on the fifteen foot satin drapes had become drab long ago and the carpets were worn through in a few places. She had the money, but did not have the trust to have people in to see her. He would help.
As he was leaving, she handed him a very old classified ad, 'To Hire: Domestic'. The particulars would have to be made acceptable to the times, like 'Colored Woman acceptable with references'.
"Make it modern, do the preliminary interview and investigation and then be with me when I interview each woman. I think a final three is appropriate. What do you think?"
"Three to five, but no more." She nodded and I scurried back to the desk and even the Master's look changed when I showed him the ad.
"We have been quite worried about her for several years. This is wonderful! I will contact my connections at NYPD for the quiet, an extremely thorough, background checks. I would like to be part of the initial interviews."
"Yes, sir. I was hoping you would want to."
"I feel obligated." The Master bowed his head momentarily.
***
We reserved a small meeting room for the initial interviews, but most were completely unsuitable: gum poppers, heavily painted faces, glued to cell phones and loud talkers. We narrowed it down to twelve who warranted testing and investigation. Full checks would be done on only three to five women.
Three middle aged women made the cut, in every way and we began the interviews with Mrs. Goodman.
One of the three was immediately disqualified when she walked into the suite and said, 'God damn! Look at that view!' She was hurried away.
The last two seemed perfect and would be hard to choose from.
Mrs. Goodman couldn't decide either, so she hired both. This was quite fortunate since the women were twins, fifty years old and very able bodied and ready to make the tattered home a glowing example of Art Deco.
***
Back at the desk, the usual requests were voiced or given to us in tiny folded notes. Did we fulfill all requests? Mostly, but some were so illegal or dangerous, we had to bow out.
What are our favorites? Special food requests are fun and challenging. 'My wife is pregnant and wants some sausage gravy an melon!' Easy!
'My son wants peanut butter an cherry preserves and a glass of cherry Kool aid!' Also easy!
***
Mrs. Goodman's suite was beautiful at her wake. She willed the suite to the hotel and its maintenance and jobs for life to her two domestics. There was a notation that the young Concierge, me, should stay in the suite at least once per month to make sure it stayed immaculate.
Strippers ordered, he made rounds of the lobby, looking for someone who was searching for most anything. He found no one.
The delivery service stopped by the desk and asked for room 440. He decided to go with them, for he would not allow her to be embarrassed.
She was at least five minutes coming to the door and he dismissed the courier. He would handle this himself. She opened the door and allowed him to enter.
The sweeping vista of Central Park took his breath away. He suddenly realized who she was; the widow of the owner of the hotel property and financier, Mr. Able Goodman.
"Young man?" She gestured to a chair with the best view of the park. "Is this the first time you have seen the view from here?
"Yes, Ma'am and this is amazing!" He could have sat there for many hours per day and knew that she did.
"May I stow your items for you?"
She nodded. "I still haven't found a new maid since Clary died. I don't have the heart to replace here."
"When you are ready, I will help you with the particulars and investigation of applicants."
"Thank you young man. You may 'stow' as you call it, in the bathroom closet, but on the low shelves, please." She smiled.
Her suite was from another era and was as Art Deco as he had ever seen. Everything needed a good freshening though. The sheen on the fifteen foot satin drapes had become drab long ago and the carpets were worn through in a few places. She had the money, but did not have the trust to have people in to see her. He would help.
As he was leaving, she handed him a very old classified ad, 'To Hire: Domestic'. The particulars would have to be made acceptable to the times, like 'Colored Woman acceptable with references'.
"Make it modern, do the preliminary interview and investigation and then be with me when I interview each woman. I think a final three is appropriate. What do you think?"
"Three to five, but no more." She nodded and I scurried back to the desk and even the Master's look changed when I showed him the ad.
"We have been quite worried about her for several years. This is wonderful! I will contact my connections at NYPD for the quiet, an extremely thorough, background checks. I would like to be part of the initial interviews."
"Yes, sir. I was hoping you would want to."
"I feel obligated." The Master bowed his head momentarily.
***
We reserved a small meeting room for the initial interviews, but most were completely unsuitable: gum poppers, heavily painted faces, glued to cell phones and loud talkers. We narrowed it down to twelve who warranted testing and investigation. Full checks would be done on only three to five women.
Three middle aged women made the cut, in every way and we began the interviews with Mrs. Goodman.
One of the three was immediately disqualified when she walked into the suite and said, 'God damn! Look at that view!' She was hurried away.
The last two seemed perfect and would be hard to choose from.
Mrs. Goodman couldn't decide either, so she hired both. This was quite fortunate since the women were twins, fifty years old and very able bodied and ready to make the tattered home a glowing example of Art Deco.
***
Back at the desk, the usual requests were voiced or given to us in tiny folded notes. Did we fulfill all requests? Mostly, but some were so illegal or dangerous, we had to bow out.
What are our favorites? Special food requests are fun and challenging. 'My wife is pregnant and wants some sausage gravy an melon!' Easy!
'My son wants peanut butter an cherry preserves and a glass of cherry Kool aid!' Also easy!
***
Mrs. Goodman's suite was beautiful at her wake. She willed the suite to the hotel and its maintenance and jobs for life to her two domestics. There was a notation that the young Concierge, me, should stay in the suite at least once per month to make sure it stayed immaculate.
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