The executive assistant explained she was planning a birthday party for her boss. Navigating broken English we understood they wanted Canadian food, only the best for a party in two days. Lack of common language didn’t hinder our ability to put on a splendid party. Not surprisingly, executive assistant’s “best” involved champagne fountains, expensive scotch, and dazzling floral festooned archways dotted with twinkling lights.. Never one to judge, we pulled out the stops to make boss one of the weirdest birthday/wedding/ sweet sixteen/ 70’s disco parties I’ve laid eyes on.
Our client said everything was perfect – exactly as she imagined. As guests started to arrive it became apparent female guests fell into two distinctly different camps. The ball gown and tiara set, mingled with barely covering your panties in skin tight Lycra dresses teetering on 4 inch heels crowd. Oddly age wasn’t a factor, nor did it seem to make the slightest difference – I suppose dress code was “optional”
After dinner attention turned to the stage for speeches and video montage of boss man’s life. We found the pictures helpful, managing to piece together boss man’s rise to glory in the real estate market, despite absence of our mother tongue. Formalities over it was time for Karaoke.
As I stood next to the stage, a Lycra clad woman approached saying “help” -one of the few English words she spoke. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out her problem.Ā Blind sided by her period, every square inch from the edge of her skimpy garment to the top of her rhinestone heels demanded immediate attention. I led her out the back door, leaving her hunched over in the back of our van as I went to find a feminine product. No luck – the best I could do was a pitcher of warm water and two clean bar rags – one to wash up with, the other to stuff in her underwear. Her motioning for me to do the washing was met with a firm “oh, hell no”. She shrugged, washed herself, and put the bar rag in her panties.
Suddenly overcome with a sense of urgency she left the van, making a B-line for the stage. I’d missed them calling her name, I didn’t miss her perfect rendition of Lady Gaga’s I Was Born This Way.
Just another day at the office – it helps if you love your job.
notestoponder 
Ain’t that the truth
š
Welcome to reality. It is stranger than fiction.>KB
Indeed š and that was a tame day, I could tell stories that Hollywood writers couldn’t come up with.
Very interesting post and well written, I have to admit the way the post was written the period thing came out of nowhere and was kind of like a surprise ending to a movie !
It certainly surprised me š
You never fail to surprise me with the things you come up with.
I’m glad that’s your job and not mine!
When we were greeted by the facilities manager here upon starting our stint as Camp Hosts she told us,
“I’ve been doing this for 17 years and I used to try to understand why people did things. You meet all kinds here. But I decided trying to understand why will only drive you bananas so I gave up trying.”
None of our adventures have been this crazy!
Cheers,
Peter
A retired Photographer looks at life
Life Unscripted
And that is one of my milder stories š When I train my staff my intro goes something like this….
” You are about to find out what you are made of. No other job will test your patience, force you to think on your feet, or develop empathy, as the hospitality industry is about to”
Great story and training intro…wise words to impart.
Have had a few of those “Oh Hell No!” moments ourselves…hospitality, customer service, concierge…there are some lines you never cross even though the guest is ‘surprised’ that we won’t…I find myself surprised they could even ask…wait… I take that back…Nothing surprises me anymore.
k-
Improvise impromtu … too funny. Love aside, working with the rich and famouse most have a stomach for it. No doubt, there are plenty of stories to be told. š
Reblogged this on notestoponder.