Today we have some VIP guests.
An Taoiseach?
No that was yesterday.
Nelson Mandela?
One day.
No, we have, lets see, journalists, sales managers' brother and his lover, someone from the property pages of the local rag, who else, oh yeah, the manager of a local firm who 'may' or 'may not' want to have a training course here in the summer but he can't decide yet so we are to butter him up anyway 'just in case'...fuck me, I am not worthy to be in such company.
Question to the floor..what constitutes a VIP?? or, as I am told these specimens are VVVIPS?? Someone who 'might (if they can get their act together and decide to) make a booking', or someone who actually matters?
My supervisor rang me to check if these were to get any 'special' treatment, my answer is NO NO NO... we should provide the same level of accommodation and service to all our guests.
I don't care if they write a few lines in some obscure golfing rag that no-one reads, or they might just tell Ireland that the barman forgot to put ice/olive/salt/martini, in his martini....I'm just too feckin' cynical for this industry sometimes.
Example of how these liggers and langers should be made to pay for every square of toilet roll;
Just to be nice, because we didn't have to, we gave one of our journalist 'friends' a welcome breakfast hamper on arrival.
This included, home made soda bread, bacon, eggs milk, Clonakilty black pudding, sausages, orange juice, honey, etc etc....I could hardly carry it it was so heavy and laden with goodies.
The next morning, one of my colleagues took a call from them, her face, I am told, went from Irish pasty to red to crimson to blue because she was holding her breath to stop herself exploding.
Consummate professional that she is, she kept her reputation intact by not losing her temper and dealt with their request.
The wife of the journo had called to complain about, not to ask for, or comment on, but to complain, loudly, bitterly, and with free use of expletives the lack of butter in her hamper!! She yelled as my colleague raised the handset to her ear, blasted her....can you believe the bare faced cheek of some people?
I wish I had been the one to take it down to her, I could have slashed their tyres into the bargain, given them something real to complain about, tut tut Queenie, get back in yer box.
I should soon be the proud owner of these fantastic badges made by Manuel, in the comfort of his utility room.
I was convinced I was getting a badger, that's how I read it, 'badger sets for the first ten to email', but now he tells me I'm only going to get a couple of little bits of metal with a very dangerous pin on the back that you could have someone's eye out with. Can't wait, now of course he knows where to send the hate mail as well...oh well in for a penny...!!
