Archive for March, 2006
Happy Holidays from the Burlington, MA Marriott (Take Two)
(Comments Welcome, by the way, are welcome)
The concierge sighed at the photo of five-pound blocks of chocolate screened with company logos, but lingered on the luscious pears nestled in excelsior. She leaned over the counter, peered through the double glass doors to the Aspen Room and saw the VP of Sales from Temcor (Palms Suite #7B, PerksPlus(R) ID#34-1764-9) gesturing lazily with a laser pointer.
He’d conducted week-long training sessions at the hotel each month that year. Which meant a holiday gift of no more than $250 but no less than $200. The concierge flipped back toward the front of the catalog for the pricier items.
On page 12, she circled an assortment of single malt Scotches in a teakwood box. She thought about how the VP might pour them in his post-lunch coffee. Or maybe he’d take the card out and give them to one of the other VPs for Christmas. She briefly thought about a mammoth exotic fruit and nut assortment that his whole office could enjoy. But it would probably just rot on the break room counter, which he would notice but not clean up.
She thought about his booze-soaked saunters to her counter after last call at the hotel bar, how he’d look around the lobby first then whisper where could he find this or that nighttime amusement? What would be the appropriate gift to remind him of her discreet but memorable recommendations? Or make him remember the hotel’s other four-star amenities, such as Kenneth in Facilities’ covert deliveries or housekeeping’s blind eye to the VP�s irredeemably soiled bed linen? And she still couldn’t forget his tongue waxing her unwilling gums, tasting of onions and cigars.
Page 14 featured high-quality silk, retro-style bowling shirts with matching fedoras. The concierge figured he’d enjoy the Rat Pack styling, as he tried so hard to live the ring-a-ding life on the Temcor dime. So she ordered him a set, with his name embroidered on the pocket of the shirt. $219.95 in XXL. It would arrive around the 19th of December, a day or two before the plain brown envelope addressed to his wife containing seven very clear Polaroids.
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