Report from the Executive Lounge

When traveling on business there are only a few opportunities to absorb the local culture and history. Hanging out in the hotel’s executive lounge is not one of them. There you meet all the other rolling luggage draggers and laptop junkies who are dressed just the same as you and who are all still wearing their ID badges dangling from cheap chains around their necks. You just know that at least 28% of them wear their badges to bed. We exchange quick pleasantries then tackle the real reason for our uncharacteristic sociability — free wine and snacks.

Dale, the concierge, remembers that I drink rose wine even though I appear only every couple of months. He remembers I like a well-toasted english muffin for breakfast. Dale is the reason I stay at this hotel. Even my husband doesn’t remember that I like a well-toasted english muffin. If push came to shove it would be a tough choice deciding who I would like to elope with — my therapist or Dale… It would probably be Dale — my therapist is paid to look like he is paying attention to my every word. All Dale wants is my charming companionship and a decent tip at the end of my stay. I don’t mind that Dale is fickle. He gives me wine to take back to my room.

My favorite lounge activity is watching fellow Big Corporation business travelers meet and hook up for the evening (hour, week, day, forever…). “Hi, I see from your badge that you also work for Mr. Big.” “Oh hi there, sure do…Raleigh office. How about you?” “Well, now that I see what Raleigh has to offer I am definitely going to transfer there. Heh heh. But for the time being I am stuck in Minsk.” “Minsk? Oh then you must be in Global Customer Accounts. Right?” “Yep, bill by the hour every hour…heh heh…” It is endlessly fascinating.

This morning I spent a good ten minutes while drinking my coffee watching Dale dice cantelope and oranges. What compelled me to watch was the fact that as Dale peeled and seeded he put the pits and peels in a blender bowl. I could not leave for my 7 AM meeting until I found out if Dale was going to  discard the finely diced fruit and blend the fruit trash into a smoothie or what. I was horrified when he did neither — he served the fruit and put the blender under the counter behind a curtain. RATS! He was going to blend it later I am just positive! Dale used to run a horse farm. This must have something to do with it.

Dale has been training the new crop of hotel managers in the art of conciergeness. Apparently the younger generation has no appreciation for customer satisfaction. Dale is not pleased. I agree — here is an example. When I checked in the young manager at the counter said, “Ah Ms Shaolin, I see you like to have a magnifying mirror in your room. Well, I have no idea which room has a magnifying mirror so I guessed. I hope you like the room.” Yes, son, going that extra mile for your customer just fills me with hope for mankind. As John McCain says, “sometimes things happen.”

Tomorrow I will miss the evening wine and cheese social hour since I will be going to the Buddhist meditation practice in town. Buddhists are not supposed to drink intoxicants anyway so I will be sparing myself some bad karma. Dale, who was unable to refrain from rolling his eyes when he saw me reading “The Heart of Buddha’s Teachings” will politely inquire about my absence. Will I tell him that I was being religious or shall I make up a story about having to fly out for the day to go moose hunting with Sarah Palin?

Note to self — smileys and other career limiting activities

Note to self: in the future refrain from importing unknown smileys into your executive presentations without first doing a careful animation check. That static happy face may, after a few seconds of good behaviour, suddenly lift its shirt and flap boobs at you (and the executives).

If, during working hours, you absolutely must know what a deluxe French massage is, take the following steps: turn off the volume on your computer, turn your monitor to face away from the cube opening, refrain from shouting out OMfrick’nG!

If you are multitasking and simultaneously preparing a broadcast email about business operations role groups while putting together your monthly Borg fan club newsletter mailing, pay attention when using the Group address feature — resistance is futile.

The teleconference leader has just finished a long-winded introduction before your speech, giving away most of your key points. Remember that the Mute Off button is right next to the Off button on your speaker phone. “And so, I turn the meeting over to Lin. Lin? Are you there? Lin, if your are on mute… Lin?”

When wishing to mute your phone for the purpose of ungracious gossip or disparaging remarks, ensure you press the mute button forcefully once– unlike the street light which changes much faster with multiple pressings, multiple pressings merely unmutes the phone. “Roy…mute…such an ass…mute…listen to him go on and on…mute”

Refrain from ending your emails with a signature line that says “All donations gratefully accepted.”