On my first day of work, one of my co-workers explained to me what it meant when “Inghams” was written next to reservations in the book. They have a set menu including an entree, le plat du jour, followed by a cheese course and dessert course. Okay, cool. No problem. But why Inghams? I was so confused. Well, after a few weeks of serving the these tables--always over the age of 60 and hailing from either England, Wales, Scotland, or Ireland--I asked again. What does that mean, Inghams? Come to find out that it is some travel agency/organization in the UK that offers hotel guests a special rate and four course meal in the hotel restaurant. Ah yes, okay. Much better, thank you.
Over the past three and a half weeks, I have had the pleasure of serving these lovely British folk. The staff usually has me announce the menu for the night because my English is well, native, and then I inevitably get the question, “Now dear, where do you come from??” and “Well what are you doing so far from home? Oh, what a lovely experience...” It never fails. They always ask where I’m from and want to know my story, etc. We chat. I tell them about my life in under three sentences and they usually respond with a two to three minute answer when I ask them the same. And once again, I am reminded of why I love British people so much. No offense to other Europeans, but British people are just friendlier. They don’t scowl and they actually enjoy talking (and smiling) to random strangers. Maybe they’re just so happy to get off that cold and rainy island that they’re willing to make friends with anyone. That or maybe the beer buzz runs through their veins permanently. But who cares? I like them, and (and I say this only because I know it’s true) they like me.
For the most part, these couples (they have all been couples thus far) are easy-going and happy with the menu when I announce it. However, some have proven to be slightly more difficult and because they usually ask for a jug of water instead of anything bottled and fancy or wine, the rest of the staff isn’t so fond of the Inghams tables (which is why they hand them off to me). Picky and cheap. Typically not a server’s guest of choice. But making them happy is my job, so I’m extra patient with them, and I try to accommodate their wishes whenever possible. And unlike many other customers I deal with, Inghams are sincerely appreciative when they see you go out of your way to get them what they ask for. Okay yes, sometimes their requests can be slightly over-the-top, but those situations are reserved only for the crazies (of which there have now been two separate couples that fit the profile). Crazy or not, these people are entertaining and make my job more fun because I actually get to interact with customers beyond taking their order or silently serving them water. And apparently, most of the staff doesn’t think that chatting with customers is a part of their job description, as they always say that I talk to the Inghams guests so much. I guess if asking them how their day was or what they did or how they are enjoying their stay counts for being overly chatty, well then yes, I admit it. Guilty.
There have been a few couples that I cannot not tell you about. So here’s a list of the most memorable, thus far:
1. R&R. The woman (same crazy one that gave me the nice compliment about my smile) was seriously missing a few screws, but she was nice enough. Her outfits were spectacularly colorful. She was like a walking botanical garden, minus any sort of tranquility vibe. Her husband just sat there dozing off into the void, half-listening while she went on and on and on about anything that popped into her mind (though I mostly heard her complaining). She was extremely difficult, did not like the food, and made sure to tell me how disappointed she was with this sour look on her face. However, she also told me that her disappointment had nothing to do with me. No, it was the kitchen. She definitely blacklisted the hotel kitchen after her first meal, maybe even after her first bite. But the service staff? We were wonderful! she said. I didn’t realize how appreciative she was of my patience until the morning her and her husband were leaving. While I was setting up for lunch on the terrace, she and her husband came out to say goodbye and to--get this--take a photo with me. Yeah, so I’m basically a celebrity busser now. Can I put that on a resume?
2. Couple number two--I never got their first names. They came to stay in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary. I know, I was impressed too. They were very quiet compared to the others, but so freaking adorable that I had to seriously hold back from bringing my camera in and taking a snap shot of them sitting at their corner table in comfortable silence that only comes after being married for 50 years. I didn’t talk to them nearly as much as the others, but they always gave me the kindest smiles, especially the old woman. She had the sparkling smile of a little girl on Christmas, just with a few more wrinkles that made her that much more likable. And her husband, he barely said a word, but you could see how much he loved and took care of his wife by the tiniest of gestures.
Then, when I went to announce the menu on their last night in the restaurant, the husband pulled out a 20 CHF bill and handed it to me with a smile emanating from his entire face, “This is for you. And only for you.” I didn’t know what to say. I tried to decline (I swear, I did), but he insisted and I promised myself to put the money toward something special (which I’ll tell you about in a few moments). And when they left, the woman looked up at me (I probably had about six inches on her) and said, “I really hope to see you again.” It took every ounce of energy not to bend down and hug her.
“Me too. It was a pleasure and have a safe trip home,” was all I could get out.
3. A&D. They stayed for two weeks, so we got to know each other pretty well. In short: I LOVE them. I’ve adopted them. They’ve adopted me. It’s love, I’m sure of it. They are from a very small island in the Irish Sea and were so friendly that sometimes I felt like I was neglecting my job because I often found myself standing at their table listening to random stories about their kids, trips they’d taken together or to A’s days as a sea captain. But hey, first priority is the customers, right? And I adored watching the two of them interact. They took care of each other so effortlessly but with so much kindness. When A told me that this would be his last vacation because he is not well, I literally had to hold back tears, but they are so young spirited and light hearted that I couldn’t help but be happy and relaxed around them. And they came up with a nickname for me--Mrs. Maple (Jr.)--based off of an English television series. It’s a long story, more like an inside joke (yeah, we even had those!).
So I bet you can understand why I was so heartbroken when I found at that D’s purse was stolen right out of the lobby on their fourth to last day in Montreux (along with their camera and all the photos they’d taken, wallets, train tickets, and plenty of other non-refundable/non-replaceable items). How could such good people have such bad luck? Out of anyone, why them? D had set her bag down next to the wheel chair they were renting for A and voila. After five minutes, gone. All I have to say is this: Car, Saboobs, and Les... If we would have been there, the mo-fo wouldn’t have gotten out of the lobby without being tackled down to the vintage-carpeted floor. They told me about the theft that night during dinner. They were so upset and A, who barely had an appetite on most days because of his illness, couldn’t eat anything at all. I had to do something... So, remember the 20 CHF tip I told you about? I went to Migros, bought some red ribbon and a disposable camera, wrote a note, and left the little package at their door the following day. It wouldn’t replace all that they lost, but it was something and I hoped, it would at least make them a wee-bit happier. My plan worked like a charm. When they came in later that night for dinner, they were beaming. And best of all, A actually ate something. Not much, but it was something.
We had to say goodbye yesterday since they are leaving this morning, but not without taking a photo (with their disposable) and exchanging contact information. I wrote down my email address and they gave me their home address, email, and an invitation to stay in their home any time. And as unrealistic as it may sound, I was really sad to see them go and I would absolutely go visit them in the future. That’s the thing that I do not like about working at a hotel. Everyone is so temporary--co-workers and patrons alike. You connect with someone(s) one moment and the next day, they’re off to their next destination. It’s a job littered with goodbyes, which I despise in the first place. But in the case of A&D, I know I’ll at least keep in touch with them. They were too good of people to give up. And in a job where I’m constantly reminded of how kind or not-so-kind people can be, I’m not willing to let go of the good ones. Not yet at least.
