Confessions of a Bellman - Suite!

I've been a Bellman at Caesars Palace for the past 10 years. I'm still a rookie compared to some of the guys. Nick, Johnny, Mike, Rabbit and Fox (the latter two work together quite harmoniously) have all been on the job many more years then myself. Rabbit and Johnny have been running bells at Caesars for over 40 years--and they still have their original knees. You have to pace yourself at this job or synthetic bone joints are in your future.

Room 2652 is one of the new suites. It's big. There's only one room like it on each floor. One (of three) plasma TVs rise from the base of the bed. Aveda soap products are in the bathroom. The shower blasts you from three different directions. There's a bidet that some guests mistake for a shoe washer. I'll stop there.

Back in the day, going to a room like 2652 meant a big tip for a bellman. Not so much these days. It's become a crap-shoot. With corporate takeovers and changing owners, the high rollers have a tendency to come and go sporadically. Now, you never know who's staying in any given room. The person could be royalty from Saudi Arabia or just some ordinary guest who got an upgrade because they complained about their original room having a view of the parking garage.

The guy in Room #2652 rang the Bell Desk and asked for three newspapers; The New York Times, USA Today and The Los Angeles Times. I often buy those exact same papers... for the crossword puzzles.

I went to the gift shop and purchased the papers for the guest. I paid cash and had the receipt in hand. I'm not sure about other hotels but Caesars encourages cash transactions when delivering items to a guest. I can't simply waltz into a gift shop and charge something to a room. Approval from on-high is needed for stuff like that and it requires time and paperwork. I wish it was easier. I'd love to charge a bottle of Dom to that room that stiffed me earlier today.

I knocked on the door of the suite. A middle aged man wearing a complimentary cashmere bathrobe answered the door.

"Here's your order sir. It came to $4.50."

The man took the papers, thanked me, and handed me two green gambling chips. Green chips are worth $25.00 each. Sweetness. I thanked him and raised my brow in an effort to ask "Are you sure about this?" His face was expressionless as he turned away and the door closed behind him. I should mention I'll hide dead bodies for a $20.00 tip. A $40.00 tip and I'll make sure they're cremated. Mr. 2652 had made my day.

I did the sacred "Bellman Shimmy" into the elevator and headed to the cashier cage to cash in the chips. I had just walked into the casino when my pager buzzed. It was the bell desk. I picked up a house phone and called Captain Tommy.

"Dude, The guy in 2652 just called. You took him two New York Times and one USA Today. He's missing the L.A. Times... and he's pissed."

Damn me. How did that happen? Each paper has it's own stand in the gift shop. I felt really bad. The guest did the Lord's work unto me and I screwed it up. All I could do was hustle. I ran to the gift shop and bought the paper. I ran to the elevator. I ran to the end of the hall and composed myself as I knocked on the door.

"Hello Sir. I'm soooo sorry about that. The paper was in the wrong bin. Here's your L.A. Times. I'm addicted to crossword puzzles."

"Huh? Yeah, that's alright. Thank you."

His voice was sincere but I think he was upset by my mistake. How do I know this? Well, after 10 years on the job you just sometimes know. After all, he only tipped me one green chip the second time around.

I love this town.

 .

FiN.

Happy Feet

Dear Fruit of the Loom,

Usually when I am motivated to write a company about their product, it is due to dissatisfaction. This time however, the opposite is in order.

Last week while shopping at that corporate megalomaniac known as Wal-Mart, I came across your Work Gear socks. The bright orange packaging was hard to miss. Just a few days before I bought a pair of Sketcher work shoes and was having a very discomforting time getting them broken in. Cushioned insoles were of little help and I had already ruined two pairs of inferior socks (I will not divulge what brand socks I usually use but will tell you the company was probably founded by someone named Mr. Wilson).

Before I go further, let me tell you I have been a Bellman at in Las Vegas for the past ten years. The hotel is spread out over 80+ acres and has five different towers of rooms. It is not uncommon for us to walk over ten miles in an 8 hour shift on a busy day. That said, I bought a pair of your socks hoping it would alleviate some of the discomfort my pups were enduring.

Since the first day of wearing your socks, my co-workers have not been able to shut me up. Your socks are the best thing since the invention of the 9-inch paint roller! Not only did I notice an immediate sensation of podiatry bliss putting them on, it also felt as though a masseuse was at work down there. The next day I went back and bought enough pairs to cover my work week. For now, I only wear them at work as I do not want to get spoiled on my days off. You see, your socks make my Mondays something to look forward to.

Is Fruit of the Loom or a parent company on the stock market? I really think when the word gets out about these beauties, you'll have quite a spike in sales. I currently only have a half share in Harley Davidson (a novelty Christmas gift but it looks nice framed in my office) but am now seriously considering expanding my portfolio. Also, please under no circumstances discontinue this product. I would indeed drop some "fruit" in my "looms" if you did. If the day of Armageddon arrives and you must discontinue these socks, please let me know well ahead of time so I may obtain a home equity loan and use the money to buy up your remaining inventory.

I thank you and my feet thank you,

The Garbage Flower

PS. My co-workers say my feet don't stink anymore.