Journals of a Hotel Manager

Today is my day off.  I strolled casually to our beach restaurant for an early lunch before the crowd arrives.  I also wanted to make sure the cobra is no longer patrolling the beach area.

The head waiter Ketut fussed over me in a typical behavior that he did not expect me to show up on my day off, and would not want to commit a single mistake.  The menu had just been changed and I found some items for improvement.  I beckoned Ketut and said without looking up, “Can I have a copy please?”

“Yes, Pak,” Ketut replied.

A moment later a cup of coffee appeared in front of me.  I did not order it.  But I supposed that Ketut had wanted to impress me and he knew of my habit of starting the day with a cup of black coffee.  I had wanted an iced tea but I smiled anyway and thanked him.

At the end of my lunch, the copy of the menu was still not given to me.  When I questioned Ketut about it, he looked at me bewildered and pointed at my table, “But Pak John you had two of them already!”

I looked back at my table and presently realized that I did indeed have two of them: two coffees that is.  There is no ‘f’ sound in their native language therefore the locals have difficulty in distinguishing between the sounds ‘p’ and ‘f’, especially a head waiter who is nervous.  They can say ‘p’ perfectly well.  Such as the word ‘pak’, a shortened version of ‘bapak’ literally means ‘father’, is ubiquitously used to address all men to the effect of calling each other ‘mister’ in this polite society.

Coffee, in their language, is spelled as ‘kopi’ and pronounced exactly as it is spelled.

“My mistake, Ketut,” I laughed and walked away.

While passing by our fine dining restaurant, I saw that preparation and set up was going on.  It reminded me that the honorary consul of France was hosting a small holiday reception tonight.  I contemplated for a moment whether I should show my face at the party or not.  After all, it is my day off.  On the other hand, all guests and staff know that I live in the hotel hence it is difficult to escape a duty that in the industry we call ‘kissing babies and patting fannies’.

As I stopped and pondered my schedule tonight, my attention was drawn to an elaborate signage at the restaurant entrance.  Framed beautifully in carved wood, the signage was adorned with graceful whirls of flowers and leaves.  It was a perfect signage that we could use for the years to come, except that in the center it was written in a florid hand ‘Frivate Punction’.

I laughed again, and picked up the phone to call the restaurant manager.  I did not have the heart to personally admonish the artist who had obviously put in quite some thoughts and hours to this important signage for our VIP guest.  I also told the manager not to throw the signage away, for I want to keep it as a souvenir which will undoubtedly bring a smile to my face for the years to come.

© 2008 Global Hotel Nomad (SH)