DAYS IN THE LIFE OF A PATTAYA HOTEL OWNER

[wacmedia 277]

Hi,

 

I think you have to be a certain type of falang to have a business in LOS. The story about the police is worrying and would convince me not to have all my eggs in the Thai basket.

[cookie 1]

5th April, 2007

 

Well that is it! I have finished writing my book and I completed the final proof reading earlier today. I had a meeting with the publishers, Bangkok Books, a few hours ago. They have given me to understand that the book will be published within the next two months, possibly before end May.

 

I am presently experiencing considerable excitement, at the anticipation of seeing my name on the cover of a book, mixed with a paralysing fear that it will be viewed as the worst piece of literature ever to find its way into print. Well there is nothing I can do now except sit and wait.

 

I was at something of a loose end on how to finish the book but my trip away to Nong Khai handed me the final piece of the jigsaw on a plate! This trip away also served to prove that I am fated to run headlong into situations I would prefer to avoid even when I am away from the madness that is Pattaya.

 

Part of the final story for the book is now produced below.

 

I was at a loss of how to bring this book to a conclusion. There would always be another story only a few days away and it may just be the best one yet. However, I decided that having spent a full two years in Thailand, since my short return visit to England in 2005, this was as appropriate a point in time as any.

 

I had written the entire book whilst at work at Jasmine Mansion and, from the same place, conducted my first proof reading and editing exercise. In order to carry out the second, and hopefully final, proof reading I wanted to go away. I wanted to be somewhere I could relax and not be subjected to interruptions every five minutes or distracted by another ‘incident’ unfolding in front of my eyes.

 

The north east of Thailand has always seemed to be considerably more relaxing to me than Pattaya or Bangkok. I had visited the town of Nong Khai, on the banks of the Mekong River, twice and on both occasions found it to be a calm and peaceful place. I decided that this would be my retreat, a place where I knew no-one and, as such, I would be assured of some peace and quiet.

 

Having researched the town and accommodation on the internet I had a choice of two good quality hotels that appeared to provide the facilities I was looking for. One of these hotels offered views of the Mekong and the thought of looking out over this powerful river as I edited the book made my mind up for me.

 

I was taken by taxi from Jasmine Mansion to the old Bangkok airport, which had recently re-opened for domestic flights, from where I flew to Udonthani. I was met in Udonthani by our family friend, Tom, who drove me to Nong Khai. The hotel arrangements had been kindly made by another family friend and we eventually arrived at my ‘artistic retreat’.

 

I completed the check-in card and enquired as to whether the hotels internet access in the room was by ADSL line or WiFi connection. I was now informed that the hotel did not have an internet connection in the rooms. This was one of my main requirements, I may be away working on my book but I still have to read, and respond to, the numerous hotel e-mail enquiries I receive. Although disappointed, this was not the end of the world so I asked where the internet office was for the hotel guests, only to be told there wasn’t one. The friend who had booked the hotel for me knew that a connection to the internet was important and had been assured the hotel had such facilities. I was now getting irritated and being in a state of agitation was something I had travelled away to avoid.

 

After considering matters for a moment the hotel clerk asked if I had my laptop with me. It was in my computer case, which lay open on the counter directly in front of him. This, however, was not a rhetorical question and I confirmed to the clerk that ‘‘yes” I did have my computer with me and “yes” in answer to his subsequent question, I did have the telephone connection line with me. He then advised that I could connect to the internet via the telephone line to the room and at last I started to relax a little. Then, just at the point where I was handing over my Credit Card, I enquired as to the cost of using this internet facility. “International dialing rates sir” he replied and I was immediately returned to my state of agitation. The hotel was two kilometers outside of the town therefore there was no easy alternative option and, as such, what was being offered, however ridiculous, would just have to do. As I was far from happy I requested to be shown the room before committing myself to a stay of one week. Thank goodness I did.

 

I was taken up to the room which was just awful. It was mid afternoon, I had turned on all the room lights and fully opened the curtains and the room was still pitch black. There was a view of the river but the room was just far too depressing. There was no way I would be able to stay and work here although had I been contemplating suicide this place would actually have fitted the bill perfectly. It was then that I realised I was in a room when I had booked a Suite. I was going to be working and I wanted some space as most of my days would be spent inside my hotel accommodation. “Are you sure this is the correct room” I enquired of the bell-boy who assured me it was. I went back down to the reception area and asked the same question and received the same answer.

 

“But I reserved a Suite. That is not a Suite is it?”

 

“No sir, Suite full” the reception clerk told me.

 

“Well why didn’t you tell me that as soon as I arrived?”

 

“You book room not Suite”

 

As I had not made the reservation personally there was a chance that my friend had made a mistake but I had the feeling that the check-in card I completed earlier mentioned Suite on it somewhere. I asked to look at the check-in card again.

 

“Look there, it quite clearly says Room Type: Suite” I pointed to the appropriate place on the form.

 

“Yes but Suite full’

 

“I appreciate that but my booking was for a Suite at two thousand-five hundred Baht a night. You are now offering me a smaller room for the same price”

 

“Yes price two thousand-five hundred Baht a night. You reserve Suite Room”

 

“But I am not getting a Suite am I? The Suites are all full so the price should be different”

 

“You want Suite Room for two thousand-five hundred Baht a night?”

 

“Yes”

 

“Sorry sir Suite Room full”

 

I turned to Tom who, even though he is Thai, was as mystified by the conversation as I and told him to get me out of the hotel before I did something that at the moment I may very well enjoy but, ultimately, live to regret.

 

We journeyed to the other hotel I had read about and I enquired as to whether they had any availability. This hotel only had one available room, ironically, a Suite Room. They fared no better in the internet department but were within easy walking distance of the town centre where I remembered there to be at least two internet cafés.

 

I asked to see the room and was taken up to what was most certainly a Suite. The room itself was dated and a little on the dark side but not to the degree that would have me slashing my wrists by teatime. As I turned to leave the room, having decided it would suit my purposes, a door from an adjoining room opened and a somewhat portly middle aged Thai lady, dressed only in a towel, appeared. She smiled at me and proceeded to the fridge where she removed a can of drink and returned to ‘her’ room.

 

“Excuse me, what just happened there?” I enquired of the receptionist who was showing me the room.

 

“Oh that was lady from next loom.”

 

“Yes I rather thought as much but what was she doing in this room?”

 

“Cannot stop her, she be here long time and she have key to door between her loom and this loom. When we have empty she use this loom as well.”

 

“Are you telling me that if I take this Suite then the lady from the next door room can simply come in here whenever she wants?”

 

“Yes but she nice lady and she pay for any drink she take from mini-bar”

 

“TOM” I screamed.

 

The plans to stay in Nong Khai now lay in tatters and my only thought was to return to Udonthani and hope I could get accommodation, and preferably a Suite, at the hotel I usually stay at when there. I had been up at seven that morning and did two hours work before the two and a half hour taxi ride to Bangkok. I spent an hour at the airport, an hour flying to Udonthani, thirty minutes waiting for my case and an hour journey to Nong Khai. I have spent another hour traipsing around hotels in Nong Khai and now face another hour’s journey back to Udonthani and still I was not certain of securing any accommodation. It was getting to the point where it would have been quicker to have got a flight back to London and my mood was most certainly not what it should have been!

 

When we arrived at the hotel in Udonthani they did have a Suite available although only for two nights. I would then have to check-out for one night and return after that for the remainder of my stay. It was not perfect but then very little has been in the last two years, this was better than nothing.

 

I managed to do two good days work. I was up early, breakfasted and then immediately set about the task at hand. I would finish in the late afternoon, have a meal followed by a short walk and then retire to bed before nine in the evening.

 

The morning I was to depart for one night brought good news in that, although I would have to move to another room, I did not have to leave the hotel. My return to a Suite the following day was also confirmed. The packing and unpacking and changing of rooms meant that this was a less productive day but I was still making progress and keeping to my self imposed targets.

 

The following morning I went down to the hotel reception and enquired as to when my Suite would be available. I was delighted to be told it would be ready in thirty minutes and headed back to the room I was presently occupying and gathered up my belongings before returning to the reception.

 

“I have moved from Room 1506 here is the key, can I please have the key to my new room” I enquired of the receptionist.

 

“You check-out now?” She replied

 

“No, I am moving rooms”

 

“You check-out room 1506 now”

 

“Yes I have left room 1506 and I am going to my new room, it is a Suite but I do not know the number. I was told it would be ready now’

 

“You check out now?”

 

“No. Can you just tell me what my new room number is and give me the key please”

 

“Wait one minute please’

 

A minute, or rather several of them, passed before the receptionist returned.

 

“Here you bill, you pay by Credit Card yes?”

 

“Why do I have to pay a bill, I am not leaving the hotel?’

 

“You have to pay bill when you check-out”

 

“But I am not checking-out I am simply moving rooms”

 

“You cannot stay hotel and then not pay bill”

 

“I have no intention of not paying the bill, I am happy to pay the bill, but I will pay the bill when I leave as is the policy here. You have a copy of my Credit Card so what is the problem?”

 

“Problem is you check-out and tell me you not want pay bill”

 

“Get me the manager”

 

“I get manager but he will tell you same thing. You check-out you pay bill”

 

I waited, seething, for a further ten minutes before the manager arrived although this person appeared to me more like the mangers youngest son than the manger himself. I went through another life-sapping episode with the manager making the same lack of headway. In the end I just gave up. I paid the bill for the three nights I had spent in the two different rooms and left the hotel. I walked out through the main doors, turned around and walked directly back in and up to the reception desk where I was confronted by the same receptionist.

 

“Hello my name is Kevin Meacher, here is my passport, here is my Credit Card, I believe you have a Suite room reserved for me for four nights from today”

 

“Yes Mr. Meacher, welcome to our hotel” she said as if she had never seen me before in her life!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

THE END…….or is it???????

[Skallagrim 0]

Well, I am checking into YOUR hotel on Sunday morning. Is the suite ready for me?

 

[Big_Brian 179]

“I have moved from Room 1506 here is the key, can I please have the key to my new room” I enquired of the receptionist.

 

“You check-out now?” She replied

 

“No, I am moving rooms”

 

“You check-out room 1506 now”

 

“Yes I have left room 1506 and I am going to my new room, it is a Suite but I do not know the number. I was told it would be ready now’

 

“You check out now?”

 

“No. Can you just tell me what my new room number is and give me the key please”

 

“Wait one minute please’

 

A minute, or rather several of them, passed before the receptionist returned.

 

“Here you bill, you pay by Credit Card yes?”

 

“Why do I have to pay a bill, I am not leaving the hotel?’

 

“You have to pay bill when you check-out”

 

“But I am not checking-out I am simply moving rooms”

 

“You cannot stay hotel and then not pay bill”

 

“I have no intention of not paying the bill, I am happy to pay the bill, but I will pay the bill when I leave as is the policy here. You have a copy of my Credit Card so what is the problem?”

 

“Problem is you check-out and tell me you not want pay bill”

 

“Get me the manager”

 

“I get manager but he will tell you same thing. You check-out you pay bill”

 

I waited, seething, for a further ten minutes before the manager arrived although this person appeared to me more like the mangers youngest son than the manger himself. I went through another life-sapping episode with the manager making the same lack of headway. In the end I just gave up. I paid the bill for the three nights I had spent in the two different rooms and left the hotel. I walked out through the main doors, turned around and walked directly back in and up to the reception desk where I was confronted by the same receptionist.

 

“Hello my name is Kevin Meacher, here is my passport, here is my Credit Card, I believe you have a Suite room reserved for me for four nights from today”

 

“Yes Mr. Meacher, welcome to our hotel” she said as if she had never seen me before in her life!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE END…….or is it???????

 

 

Exellent!! I can just hear the conversation.

[talen 5]

I can't wait to check in May and just watch it all unfold

[donny-darko 1]

Well that bought a smile to my lips, I suppose that could only happen in the LOS. Thou several years ago i went to pay my bill at the end of a 2 week stay at the Dusit hotel. I had Given my Credit card details on Checkin and told the desk clerk that i would pay the remainder in cash on departure. Having been a good customer for years at this hotel i was told "No problem".

On the day of my departure i went to settle my bill and was asked by the desk clerk ( a different one to checkin ), for my credit card. I told her that i was paying in cash and proceeded to open my wallet to get the cash out. " No sir i need your credit card for payment " i was told. I then told her again i will be paying my bill in cash." Sorry sir it says here you pay by credit card" By now i was getting a little pissed off as my car was waiting to wisk me away.

I told her again that i only used my card as a garantee on checkin and i had said then i would pay in cash.

To cut a long story short, i spoke to one of the other 4 desk clerks who said " oh very sorry sir She new cashier and still training"

I thought to my self trust me to get the trainee when i was in a hurry. But it shows how somtimes they follow a script and dont use a little common sense.

[cookie 1]

common sense.

 

"In this world rich with natural resources more precious than Gold, more rare than Painite is that stuff they call common sense, alas."

[MC_Ldop 40]

Hey guys,

 

I'm helping out Kevin (cookie) with a web site to promote his upcoming book and his hotel. Best of all, he's going to be writing all new adventures on the site.

 

As a sort of beta test, I'd appreciate it if you could check out the site and let me know if there's anything not working properly. If you have something to say to Kevin, please try out the comment system--that would also be a huge help.

 

Riff-Raffles: Beyond the Book

 

Thanks!!!

[MC_Ldop 40]

Kevin has posted two new installments on his blog. They give some info on his background and how his book got started.

 

Background Info, Part I

 

Background Info, Part II

 

Here's a fair bit of his recent post:

 

Part I

 

"Before I endeavour to regale you with my tales of woe, regular mishaps and general mayhem, I thought it best to explain where I am writing to you from.

 

I live in Pattaya, on the eastern seaboard of Thailand, with my wife Jin and my three children. My kids are Pakpao, my eighteen-year old step daughter, and my sons, Sam age eleven and James age five. My wife and I own a twenty-three room hotel called Jasmine Mansion, located in the centre of this vibrant tourist city, which we opened in October 2004. I moved here from London on a permanent basis in December of 2004.

 

 

I arrived here with thoughts of semi, if not permanent, retirement from day-to-day working and enjoying new pastimes with plenty of time to be with my children. Things did not quite go according to plan. In fact, they could not have been further distanced from the plan had they been part of the Challenger mission and sent to Mars. It was this deviation that led me to keep notes of the events that seemed to be plaguing my life and ultimately to write my book, Riff-Raffles.

 

Continued

 

Part II

 

Some people have mistakenly taken my writings as a criticism of the Thai people. They hold the opinion that I am laughing at Thais and their supposed inadequacies. Nothing could actually be further from the truth. The person you should be laughing at, the person with the inadequacies … well … that is me! I have made my life in a foreign country that is not as advanced and doesn’t have the many advantages offered in the West. However, I chose of my own free will to move here, and open a business here, therefore ‘I have made my bed here so now I must lie in it!’ I have endeavoured to learn the Thai language … and failed miserably. Despite my shortcomings I have acquired a few words and phrases, but far less than would be necessary to hold a conversation with anyone over the age of two. I am ridiculed by my youngest son, James, who at his tender age can converse in English, Thai, Laotian and Chinese.

 

 

Pattaya itself is, shall we say, an ‘interesting’ place. It was a sleepy fishing village until the early 1970s. It then became a popular ‘rest and recuperation’ destination for American troops in Vietnam when the bars and go-go clubs that now proliferate the city started to open up. Girls looking for an escape from the poverty of rural life flocked to Pattaya to meet foreigners (known as farangs) and were able to make more in a day by selling their bodies than they could reasonably expect to earn in a month or more at home. There are now thousands of bars and hundreds of go-go establishments and hundreds of thousands of men of all ages from all over the World visiting Pattaya for beer and sex. My guess is that over two-thirds of those that visit Pattaya never spend so much as one hour on the beach during their entire vacation. Some probably do not even know that Pattaya has a beach! This is a nighttime resort town and most visitors here do not wake until darkness descends. This would be an ideal place to be a vampire and certainly, were you so afflicted, it is unlikely that you would stand out from the crowd.

 

Continued

Edited April 16, 2007 by stinger_sd

[cookie 1]

It has been an interesting couple of weeks since my return from Udonthani and Bangkok although the best news for me is that Songkran is now almost over….thank goodness! Sorry to sound like a real misery here but I abhor this awful week which I have now endured for the last three years and it just keeps getting worse.

 

I believe Songkran goes on too long and a week of indiscriminate water throwing is starting to have a negative affect on Pattaya’s businesses. Whilst some will say “so what” I have to tell you that this will undoubtedly impact upon visitors here unless something is done. A reduction in income during April will result in business operators looking to recoup lost revenue at other times of the year through increased prices. There are now considerable numbers of tourists staying away from Pattaya in April and many residents leaving the city during this period.

 

I have long believed that Songkran, as concerns the water throwing, should be restricted to, say, a couple of days. In this way it would create an almost ‘carnival’ atmosphere where everyone, even me, would likely participate to some degree. I also believe some areas should be ‘no water throwing zones’ so that those that want can stay dry and their possessions remain in one piece! Streets such as Soi Boukaow, or part of it at least, could be closed to traffic with bars, restaurants and hotels having food and drink stalls outside and a proper street festival with entertainment created. I would be more than delighted to participate in such an event.

 

Of course, this week is not helped by the cerebrally challenged farangs who pay no heed to the time the throwing of water should cease nor show the necessary respect to those that request water is not thrown over them. Some people are dressed for work and have jobs to do, not everyone is on vacation! Personally I do not even go outside the hotel. I therefore have to get here early morning and leave late at night to avoid the regulation soaking. I am forced to do the café shopping late at night and Mrs. Boss and I find ourselves putting in sixteen hour days which is not a bucket load of fun!

 

Well that rant over and off my chest I turn now to my book, the title for which is Riff-Raffles. The publication date is getting ever closer and the mix of excitement and utter dread is curdling away nicely in the pit of my stomach. A week or so ago I was contacted by a board member from Pattaya Talk who enquired about working with me to set up a Blog for any new stories that I may write following completion of the book. After a few e-mails back and forth we came to an agreement and he had this set up in a matter of days with background, extracts, new stories, reviews and comments sections.

 

If any of you want to take a look at the Blog I would be most grateful and please feel free to make any comments you wish. Some of the extracts are those you will have already read on this site but others pre-date my posting to the forums. To look at the Blog simply go to www.riffraffles.com. The Blog stories will be serialized so they are not too much to read in one go and the first part of a new tale, not yet on the Blog, appears below.

 

Following on from our, supposedly, possessed room maid we have recently entered another area of mysticism – Feng Shui. As I have said before, I am prepared to accept that there is more on earth than meets the eye, powers that we neither know nor understand and things that cannot be explained however scientifically they may be analysed. Despite this I am still a ‘you show me then I will believe it’ person. I am very sceptical of claims that my business will improve dramatically if I keep the toilet seat down or sit with my head up an elephants backside ten hours a day and the rest of the ‘mumbo-jumbo’, excuse the pun, which accompanies visits by these self proclaimed experts.

 

Mrs. Boss, however, holds different views from me and I dare not argue against her when she becomes involved in such matters. First of all I will end up changing nothing with Mrs. Boss will sticking rigidly to her plans and secondly, I will become embroiled in a pointless argument that will likely result in my sleeping on the couch for a few days and withdrawal of my conjugal rights.

 

What I know from past experience is that the Feng Shui consultant visits you and charges a fee for his few hours of walking around and drawing diagrams of your rooms. Whatever he charges you can be assured that you will need to multiply the figure by several hundred to get to the total cost you will be involved in by following the ‘suggestions’ that will be made in his report. The suggestions will contain numerous impractical measures which, unless you choose to demolish your building and have in reconstructed in a way that will accommodate the designs, just cannot be implemented. There will, of course, be ways you can offset the impractical suggestions by ‘balancing’ you negative aspects with positive symbols or whatever. The reality, though, is likely to be that you move your entire home or office around, balance the negative aspects with positive ones, and end up with everything in the same place as it was before. An expensive excuse for having a good ‘Spring clean’ if you ask me!

 

My partner of years ago in England, Lucy, was also a Feng Shui devotee and she introduced a charming young Brazilian man to my business by the name of Marcio. Marcio visited my offices and chatted away for hours whilst I smiled and nodded regularly and agreed with everything he said. This agreement was simply due to the fact that I could not understand anything he said as a result of his being very softly spoken and having a heavy South American accent. The only thing I thought I understood I got terribly wrong. Apparently Marcio had told me I needed some good ‘Chi’ in all areas of my office and it was important I attended to this immediately. He promised to come back in a few days to check on the initial effects of what I had done and to deliver his report. He started then to ramble on and on again so I mentally switched off and eventually he departed.

 

Marcio returned to my office a few days later as promised and immediately put his hands over his nose and started retching. He walked around the office area in this same pose for several minutes before dashing off to the bathroom. When he returned a wet handkerchief was now held over his nose and mouth making him even less understandable than had previously been the case. Eventually he said “Kevin what is that awful smell’. I was rather perplexed, Marcio was complaining about an awful smell that HE had ordered me to create! “That, Marcio, is the CHEESE that you told me to put all around the office.” Marcio left and never returned, my business went from strength to strength for which the same cannot be said of the now ‘steaming’ cheeses which were removed immediately Marcio had gone! He did leave his report and sent me a very nice letter a few weeks later saying that he would not be charging me.

 

TO BE CONTINUED….on www.riffraffles.com

[rainsberger 0]

Hi Kevin.

Good to write to you again, and totally agree with you regarding Songkran it does go on

to long, i am not a spoil sport but did not enjoy the Songkran in 2005.

I remember my very first Songkran in 1992 and my first night in Pattaya was a Friday

night everything was going well until one minute past midnight and my first soaking of

the weekend in all my flash gear.

In those days the Songkran was only on Saturday and the main day was the Sunday then

it was all finished and back to normal, times have certainly changed in Pattaya now and for me

the Songkran has become a nightmare.

I can remember you saying last year when i stayed at the Jasmine you did not like the

Songkran and it was a nightmare for you, especially the throwing of water from the balconies.

The Songkan can be good again for Pattaya if limited to just the weekend festival it used to be,

and it was much much more enjoyable with everyone taking part.

Dave.

[cookie 1]

Nice to hear from you Dave and both Mrs. Boss and I hope that we will see you out here again. I know you had a damper put on your last visit but doubt very much that you would be so unfortunate again. We both send our warmest regards.

 

I would like to see Songkran become a festival that attracts people from all over the world to Pattaya rather than something that sends everyone running for the hills. I have never been one for getting involved with committees or that sort of thing and I am even less inclined now I am living in a foreign land. However, I would happily join with other local business owners and city officials to help in any way I could to make Pattaya the Songkran capital of the world where everyone, visitors and residents, Thais and farangs could have a truly great experience and memories that will last a lifetime.

 

Take Songkran away from the numbskulls and give it back to the people!

Edited April 19, 2007 by cookie

[cookie 1]

I have often been heard to say to my Thai staff, in my usual exasperated tones, ‘If you are going to lie then do so properly. Lie to the level where you are unlikely to be found out or, at least, make the story believable.’ Lying in Thailand is at a level where you have to be a complete Muppet not to see through it. Initially you consider that the person lying to you is treating you with total contempt, so pathetic and lame is the story they are spinning you. However, I have come to realise that the lack of credibility is not due to me being perceived as stupid. It is that the person telling the lie just does not know how to properly think things through before providing you with a fabricated yarn.

 

As a race, telling lies does not come naturally to Thai people. Of course, there is a problem associated with them not wanting to ‘lose face’ and this is a situation where lying would actually be rather beneficial to them. However, they usually circumvent this by not responding to any direct questions which they either do not know the answer to or that the answer would show them to be in the wrong. This therefore obviates the need to lie. They will, instead, simply stare at the floor in the manner of a shamed puppy that has just urinated on your brand new Persian rug or alternatively smile tentatively like a young child begging forgiveness. Both of these actions are assured to induce you to rage. When you have gone red faced and shouted they become terribly upset, they cannot understand why you are behaving in such a barbaric fashion – you are now in the wrong!

 

I hold the opinion that lying is something the Thais have learnt from Westerners. The most typical introduction here in Pattaya will be from a farang who meets a lady in a bar, takes her back to his hotel and then, in the morning, tells her he will come to the bar again that evening. He will not go to the bar of course; he never had any intention of going to that bar ever again. However, rather than tell the girl this was an affair for the one night only he lies. The girl will wait for him, looking eagerly at every customer who approaches until it becomes clear that her man is not going to arrive. The other girls will then inform her that this happens all of the time, farangs tell lies. Whilst they will understand it is not pleasant to be on the receiving end of a lie they realise its potential value and thus it becomes an adopted form of behaviour.

 

In the West lying has been perfected and I consider that I mastered the art from a relatively young age. I will recount, by way of example, one of my favourite lies. Many years ago I was employed by W.H. Smiths, a bookstore and stationary chain with numerous branches throughout the U.K. I worked at their Windsor branch on Saturdays and during my school holidays. It helped put some money in my pocket and left me some fond memories – several storeroom assignations that I will not bore you with. Anyway, being the part-timer, I was given the tasks the full-time staff wanted to most avoid, included in this was opening the shop and taking in the morning newspaper and magazine deliveries. I would arrive at around six in the morning, take in the papers, count them and add everything to the stock records. I would then put the periodicals out on the shelves having removed the remaining previous issues, marking up the ‘returns’ on the stock records. I would open the shop at seven thirty and deal with the early morning businessmen buying their preferred daily paper before continuing to the station to catch their train to London. The regular staff would arrive at nine and I would then have a thirty minute breakfast break. I still have not quite worked out how three hours extra work only entitles one to a thirty minute break but it is a little too late to see my union representative now!

 

As a young man it was not always easy for me to wake at five o’clock in order to get washed, dressed and make the twenty minute journey into the centre of town to arrive at the appointed hour. Late nights at pubs and clubs accompanied by far too much alcohol would often see me still fast asleep several hours after I should have been at work, the alarm clock safely tucked away at the bottom of my sock drawer. After several late arrivals I was given a formal warning and advised, in no uncertain terms, that any future tardiness would result in the loss of my job. Although this was never going to be a threat to my future career prospects it would rather cramp my style, I had become accustomed to having money in my pocket and I enjoyed some aspects of the job. I vowed never to be late again and kept this up until, well, the day immediately following the official warning. It was well after nine when I woke and I would be about four hours late by the time I arrived at the store, I would be sacked for sure.

 

I considered telephoning to tell them I was sick but that just seemed so pathetic, I gave them more credit than to think they would believe me. Anyway they would likely ask me to get a note from my doctor confirming my ailment and this was just not going to happen. I therefore hatched a much more plausible tale. I went into town and stopped at a pharmacy where I purchased an elasticated bandage and a sling. I bandaged my arm, put the sling on, with the help of the shop assistant in the pharmacy, and went to work. I apologized profusely for being late but, as was clear for all to see, I had been involved in an accident. I fell off my bike on the way to work and hurt my arm. I went to the hospital and they told me the arm was not broken, just badly sprained. Not only was my lie believed but I was considered as a veritable hero for still turning up to work. Only light duties, and no early morning shifts, followed for the next few days. It was difficult at times to maintain the pretence but I got away with it. Only the very pretty, diminutive, blond haired, sixteen year old Janet from the record department knew of my taradiddle, learning of this the moment in the storeroom when I successfully undid her bra with my supposedly non-functioning limb!

 

Before any of you start going on about me undoing bras of sixteen year old girls let me tell you I was only seventeen at the time and of an age when bra undoing was both exciting and extremely complex. Almost forty years on the excitement level has not waned and whilst I am now much more proficient at the removal of this undergarment I still fondly remember, and in many ways preferred, the magic of that fumbling around. Whilst lost with Janet in memory lane at the present time I will add to the story. Later that same bra fumbling day, the young and easily intimidated assistant manager, who was treated contemptuously by all of the shops female staff, asked Janet where a particular display stand was. Janet was brazen, even given her tender years, and replied that she had no idea of the whereabouts of said item. The assistant manager suggested she go down in the storeroom and look for the stand. Janet replied, looking at me and with a twinkle in her eye, ‘I have already been down in the storeroom once today and I will be fucked if I am going down again.’ She did and she was; happy days!

 

So I am sure you can now see that I know how to lie properly and likely you will never believe another word I say. However due to having taken the time to properly learn this skill it is somewhat annoying to me that this art form is so badly performed here – lying that is, lest you still be thinking of Janet. If you have read my previous posts you will recall the story, where over a three week period, almost every member of the Jasmine Mansion staff used the same lie to explain a day’s absence from the hotel. This involved them having to go to Bangkok to visit their sister who had been injured in a motorbike accident. Even those whom I knew to be an only child had the temerity to spout this tale and this was much to my chagrin.

 

Today I have to tell you of another pointless and transparent fabrication. This is made even worse by the fact as it was spun by a receptionist here, Pon, who has spent the last five years living in England. With Tony Blair as the country’s Prime Minister how on earth could she not have learnt how to lie properly?

 

Pon was working her last few days, she being a rare exception in having given us notice of her intention to leave her job. She had to return to England so she would be quitting at the end of this month. Around midday two customers who had checked in for one night and stayed for two weeks were eventually departing, off to Bangkok for a couple of nights prior to returning home to the U.K.

 

Pon had become rather friendly with these guests but she was a naturally outgoing person so nothing much was made of this initially. I then noticed that one of these guests would regularly arrive back at the hotel at eight in the morning claiming to have been out drinking all night. He would sit down, have breakfast and read the newspaper and then his book. He would also appear rather less disheveled than one would expect of a person who had been on the booze for twelve hours. I do not know about you but for me focusing on a newspaper after that level of alcoholic intake would be more than impossible. It was also strange that he always arrived here within ten minutes of Pon having started her shift!

 

As is usually the case at this time of year we are very short staffed at the hotel. The Songkran festival sees many Thai people living in Pattaya return to their families for the New Year festivities and Mrs. Boss and I are left to do most of the work ourselves. Although we were both sure that Pon was having a relationship with this particular guest, a sackable offence, she was not conducting it at the hotel, she was leaving us shortly and we needed every pair of hands we could get. We therefore decided to play dumb and overlook the indiscretion whilst keeping a close eye on the account for this particular guest.

 

The guest and his friend duly departed and a short while later I looked for Pon. I could not see her and imagined she had just popped out to buy some food. I waited for about thirty minutes before asking the other staff members if they knew where Pon was but I was met by only blank looks. My next thought was, given that we had recruited two new reception staff that day, Mrs. Boss had told Pon to go home for a few hours and return to help us in the evening, simply forgetting to tell me of her decision. When Mrs. Boss returned to the hotel I asked her about Pon but she was equally mystified as to her whereabouts. Mrs. Boss telephoned her and was told “I sorry but I got a message that my sister in Bangkok was involved in a motorbike accident and I had to rush here to see her.” To hear this lie again was more than either Mrs. Boss or I could bear, it had been put away a couple of months ago, worn out, seen through, no longer viable, yet here was Pon trotting it out as though it was original, bloody hell it was as though it were being handed down as some magical staff ‘get out of gaol free card.’ Mrs. Boss told Pon that she was not buying this story and suggested that she had gone to Bangkok with the customer with whom we believed she had been having an affair. I am told that Pon vehemently denied this but Mrs. Boss was not backing down. Pon was advised that staying well clear of our hotel in the future was the most advisable course of action to ensure her continued good health.

 

Of course, we had no actual proof of any wrongdoing on Pon’s part. All we had were little bits and pieces that we had put together to form a picture. There still remained room for doubt as there does in many an investigation, however, later in the evening as we were driving home those lingering doubts were dispelled. Mrs. Boss and I were chatting away about the events of the day, in particular Pon’s disappearing act, when young James chipped in from the back seat ‘Daddy, Pon get into taxi with customer. I see her, she get in taxi which was outside the shop next door to the hotel.’ Guilty as charged!

 

I suppose the moral of this tale, if there really is one, is that if you are going to try pulling the wool over the eyes of Mrs. Boss and I then make sure you have a bloody large flock of sheep at your disposal.

 

As I finish this story I am left wondering where Janet is now. Mmmmmm, oh well, time to put the memories back in their box and return to work.

[cookie 1]

Monday, 21st May, 2007

 

There I was recovering from one hell of a week, seven days I would like to confine to history as quickly as possible, when Mrs. Boss informed me that we are moving the furniture in the lobby around once again. It was only one week ago when a major upheaval saw the fish tank moved, the reception counter in a new location and various other alterations made. I presumed the Feng Shui consultant had had a dream and decided to amend his previous good advice but I had no inner strength available to discuss the matter. Mrs. Boss had told me what was happening and that was that.

 

It was also another one of those always glorious days where the cook is away and I am tethered to the kitchen stove. My motivating force, the force that I hoped would get me through this particular day, was the desire to down frying pans early enough to go out to watch Manchester United versus Chelsea in the English F.A. Cup Final. FA also happens to be a quite accurate acronym for what I feel about these two football teams, for whom I have absolutely no fondness whatsoever. If they both lost I would be delighted. However, the Cup Final is a tradition that over the last thirty-five years has been a jolly good excuse for me to go out with friends and drink far too much beer. Although I now live in Thailand that is no reason for me to dispense with such a tradition, the fact that I have no friends would not be permitted to stop me either.

 

I sat in my office waiting for the next restaurant guest to arrive, enjoying another cup of coffee and yet another cigarette as the latest motley crew of so-called artisans arrived at the hotel. Mrs. Boss was on hand to instruct them on where to move the bar and the fish tank as well as direct them in putting up a new shelving unit. The fact that Mrs. Boss was here, and seemingly in control, made me feel slightly more relaxed although I am all too well aware that these events are always destined to end in tears.

 

The first tears of the day though were not mine but from Yip, a waitress who joined us a month ago and still looks dumbfounded when a customer asks for something as complicated as a cup of coffee. Those occasions that see a customer request such a beverage as Cappuccino normally result in her staring at them as though they had asked if she would mind if they shot her family. Suffice it to say, Yip is not the brightest girl we have had here. If I were to give her abilities anything more than the merest passing thought I would probably rate her as the least capable person we have ever employed. If this turns out to be the case then she will have beaten off some pretty damn stiff competition. Yip is leaving at the end of the month so there is no point me being too harsh though and I just try to ensure she has someone around to help her when she gets confused i.e. throughout her entire shift.

 

Anyway, Yip was tending to the morning Buddha offerings. Some food and drinks placed by the Buddha statue that sits on a plinth in the hotel lobby. In order to reach the plinth it is necessary, for whoever is undertaking this task, to stand on a chair. There is a large wooden chair, very solid and more than capable of holding my weight let alone that of some minute Thai lass, adjacent to the plinth. However, Yip, in her infinite lack of anything remotely resembling wisdom, decided she was going to ignore the bloody great wooden chair and stand on a bamboo bar stool. This is the type of furniture that is perfectly okay for sitting on but the last thing any sane person would ever consider as suitable climbing apparatus. This did not deter Yip, who I watched clamber up and stand on the stool that was soon shaking as if it were at the epicenter of an earthquake. Yip would not make it in a circus, other than perhaps as a clown, and promptly fell to the floor. She dusted herself off and protested that she was, in fact, not hurt, although the tears welling in her eyes rather belied this. I sat her down and gave her a glass of water and suggested that she go home for the day, stopping off at the doctors or nearby hospital if she was in any pain. Yip departed for the day thus depleting our already spartan workforce even further. Not good news on the morning of F.A Cup final day.

 

On one of my short breaks away from the kitchen I ventured over to look at the shelving unit being erected by our workmen. Only two days earlier we had the hotel lobby and restaurant wallpapered with some smart and very expensive wallpaper. At this point I would like to make it known that the decorators who undertook this work were superb, completing their task in the scheduled time with the minimum of fuss and no disasters. I now stood there staring at two large, at least five centimeter by two centimeter, scribbles made by a ball-point pen presumably as guide marks for the shelving. I swore very loudly which quickly saw Mrs. Boss arrive by my side and also stand and stare, mouth agape, in horror. We were now doing our own impersonations of Yip being asked for a Cappuccino. What makes people so stupid that they would use a ball-point pen to make a mark and not a f****** pencil and why a bloody great scrawl rather than just a small mark or indentation? The workmen did, of course, note the errors of their way and quickly attended to the mark with a dirty cloth, now smudging the ink over twice the surface area it originally covered. I swore some more and by now Yip’s gawping pose more resembled the look of some higher life form when compared to the expression spreading across my own face. Fortunately customers arrived in the restaurant forcing me to withdraw from the scene before I was overcome by the need to kill someone.

 

My next return to the lobby was thirty minutes later by which time the top part of the fitted bar had been dismantled. Along with the removal of the bar came the removal of huge pieces of ceiling plasterboard, the latter not being, as far as I was aware, on the schedule of works. As I said at the start of the story this had not been a particularly good week for me and now it appeared to be worsening by the minute and plummeting rapidly to previously unchartered depths. Mrs. Boss had tried to assure me that this damage was unavoidable as they had to use a hammer and chisel to remove the top part of the bar. At this point I led her by the arm to the specific item of furniture and pointed out the screws that still remained in situ ‘Perhaps’ I dared to suggest ‘less damage may have been caused to the ceiling had they simply taken the screws out.’ Apparently whatever level of thought these people have achieved led them to believe an extraordinary heavy piece of wood had remained affixed to the ceiling for the past three years by super-glue!

 

Next on the agenda was the glass shelving unit to the back of the bar. I now had some free time from the kitchen and sat down to watch what they did with this. I had reached my usual place of no longer giving a damn. Once more I had been beaten to a pulp by complete incompetence and ineptitude of proportions so large no measuring device has yet been invented to calculate. I was now able to laugh aloud as their first act was to take a hammer and smash the mirror attached to the rear of this shelving unit. No attempt had been made to locate the screws and remove them, simply straight in with a hammer and smash away. I recalled the, somewhat lyrically challenged, Nick Lowe song of the late 1970’s ‘I love the sound of breaking glass’ and started humming this to myself and wondered whether I had, at last, been tipped over the edge. If men in white coats carrying a straightjacket and several meters of electric cable attached to a control panel had arrived at that moment I would have departed with them willingly, no bother at all, still humming the tune that now refused to leave my head.

 

As I waited the next demolition installment Mrs. Boss made it known that one of our other receptionists had spent the night with a hotel guest. Don’t girl’s knickers come complete with elastic in Thailand? They all know this is against our policy and, if discovered, which it always is, will result in instant dismissal, yet still the occasional one has to go and do it. What really winds me up is the fact that these people think they have fooled us when the only beings they have the remotest chance of fooling are sitting chained up in a padded cell humming the tune to ‘I love the sound of breaking glass.’ What do we do now? We are already short staffed and we have sent Yip home plus she will be leaving in less than two weeks anyway. By firing the girl in question any remaining hopes of my watching the Cup Final are going to be extinguished. I will also be back once again to working a minimum sixteen hour day until a replacement is found. In the end Mrs. Boss and I decided to keep quiet, continue to look for new staff, and dismiss the girl in question when it more suits us.

 

As the day wore on and we were only beset by a series of minor mishaps, a few drops of blood here and there although, sadly, none induced by any act on my part. The damaged ceiling became a major repair job and I believe Michelangelo completed the Sistine Chapel in considerably less time. The entire ceiling was removed around the damaged area and a new piece of plaster board duly arrived. Measurements were taken and rulers plus, noticeable by their absence earlier, pencils appeared. Lines were drawn and the cutting commenced. The re-sized plasterboard was now held up to the ceiling and fitted perfectly, save for a one meter by two meters gap! That is not even close is it? A trained monkey could have done better; in fact, an untrained monkey who had just had a full lobotomy and its brain replaced by a bacon sandwich could have done better…… ‘I love the sound of breaking glass.’

 

The only consolation through all of this, in real terms not a consolation at all, was that the complete and utter chaos that now reigned meant that the restaurant was unusable and had to be closed early. The loss of a few thousand baht was as nothing when compared to my having a night out to watch the football and I was now in ‘silver lining’ territory. I had a couple of bottles of beer at the hotel before heading off to find a bar showing the football and, hopefully, one that was not packed with red or blue shirted followers of either of the protagonists. As it happened I found a nice bar, watched two hours of the most boring football it has been my dubious pleasure to endure and got drunk, very drunk indeed. I managed to stumble back to the hotel and into my office where I promptly fell asleep at my desk. Mrs. Boss was not amused especially as it took her a good thirty minutes to heave me out of the hotel and into our car. The journey from the car to my bed at home remains a mystery but having reached the bed I stayed there for the best part of the next sixteen hours.

 

I returned to the hotel that evening and the repair works were still underway. Progress had been slow, painfully so, and the large hole to my ceiling remained very much as it had done twenty-four hours previously. I asked Mrs. Boss why this had not been attended to as it should have been the priority job for our workmen. She informed me that it, in fact, had been the first thing they were doing when they arrived that morning. However, within minutes of trying to put up an additional piece of plasterboard they had successfully managed to hammer a nail directly through an electric cable plunging the rear of our lobby area into complete darkness. She took the decision to sack the workmen before they could cause any further damage and was now looking for replacement contractors.

 

As I got into the car for our journey home on Sunday night I hoped that this was the end of a bad week. Being an eternal optimist, despite everything I have endured over the last thirty months, I looked forward with the hope that the next week will be so different and so much better. It was with these sweet thoughts that I returned to my bed, hummed away to ‘I love the sound of breaking glass’ and prayed for the quick arrival of the men in white coats attaching their electrodes to various parts of my anatomy – forty thousand volts should just about do the trick guys

 

For those of you who are interested my book, Riff-Raffles, will be available from 25th May, 2007 priced B395 from Asia Books and other leading bookshops here in Thailand or from the Jasmine Mansion hotel lobby. The book will also be available on-line from the publishers, Bangkok Books, own web site.

[LocalYokul 177]

"still looks dumbfounded when a customer asks for something "

 

one of our employees does that, and he's about to be fired, because the (internal) customer is me