Post by idiotmittens on Oct 23, 2007 20:52:16 GMT
Another night away. Another night on my own. They try their best, these hotels. Everyone is friendly, competent, and (usually) efficient.
Where am I tonight? Walk through the door and I could be anywhere – Birmingham, Cardiff, Glasgow – they’re all the same. The accents change, but the bedrooms don’t.
Check out the telly. Same old crap. Pay for the naughty channels? Once maybe, but these days watching some scrawny bird pretending to get her buttons pressed just doesn’t do it for me. Must be getting old.
Should ring home really, but maybe later. Been a long drive and I need a pint and some food first. Do I brave the hotel restaurant, or go for a drive round to check out the locality? Stupid question. Where do you park? Is it a rough bit of town? Do you want to nurse a single drink all night? No – it’s the restaurant for me. At least I know what I’ll get – disappointment. A promise undelivered. A haven for the single diner where no-one thinks you’re a freak for asking for a VAT receipt. What’s the limit for claiming expenses? Well f*ck it – I’m having a starter as well. If the beancounters want to complain, they can sanguineous well live this life.
Try a spot of people watching. Are they work colleagues, or locals? He’s working hard, but she just doesn’t want to know – give up mate, you don’t stand a chance there. She’s got a boyfriend back at home and he gives her more than you could manage after a few pints and a bottle of Rioja.
Those two look happy. Must have been a good demo or presentation today. They got the deal and now it’s time to relax and enjoy the fruits of their labours. Splashing out on a bottle of fizz – cava, but what the hell – it’s the bubbles that count, not the label.
Professional lady pushes her salad about. Perrier for her. Needs a clear head for that meeting tomorrow. If this goes well, the Board will be bound to notice her. The nanny has dealt with the kids. Fenella’s flute lessons are costing a bomb, but tomorrow could cover them, and a new instrument for Christmas. Polish up that Powerpoint in the room tonight. Could make all the difference.
Food arrives. No surprises, but it’s hot and edible. Must have been the top man on the microwave tonight. A menu by committee. The kitchen staffed by minimum wagers. What do you expect, you snob. You’re in a medium priced hotel in a medium sized city, with medium ambitions. The waitresses obviously enjoy the food – a good sign I suppose. Never eat in a place with skinny staff is my motto – but what do I know – Mr Medium Rare, Mr Second Cheapest Wine on the list.
The blokes stare at their phones and text their mates. Footy on later. Couple of pints in the bar. Maybe someone tasty will turn up. You never know. Tonight could be the night. Or not.
Was it always like this? Did we always have this strange group of people who can sit together and say nothing to each other? We stare blankly at the screen. Doesn’t matter what’s on. Could be rugby, boxing, athletics, knitting – it’s all the same. Just something to stop us returning to our rooms. Just something to make us feel that we’re part of something. Just something to stop us sitting at the bar and getting hammered. Can’t do that these days. Got to be responsible, professional, promote the Company’s Visions and Values. Should I do a risk assessment?
Time to go. Time to make the call. Time for a bit of reality.
Home tomorrow.
Just got to get through the rest of tonight.
Where am I tonight? Walk through the door and I could be anywhere – Birmingham, Cardiff, Glasgow – they’re all the same. The accents change, but the bedrooms don’t.
Check out the telly. Same old crap. Pay for the naughty channels? Once maybe, but these days watching some scrawny bird pretending to get her buttons pressed just doesn’t do it for me. Must be getting old.
Should ring home really, but maybe later. Been a long drive and I need a pint and some food first. Do I brave the hotel restaurant, or go for a drive round to check out the locality? Stupid question. Where do you park? Is it a rough bit of town? Do you want to nurse a single drink all night? No – it’s the restaurant for me. At least I know what I’ll get – disappointment. A promise undelivered. A haven for the single diner where no-one thinks you’re a freak for asking for a VAT receipt. What’s the limit for claiming expenses? Well f*ck it – I’m having a starter as well. If the beancounters want to complain, they can sanguineous well live this life.
Try a spot of people watching. Are they work colleagues, or locals? He’s working hard, but she just doesn’t want to know – give up mate, you don’t stand a chance there. She’s got a boyfriend back at home and he gives her more than you could manage after a few pints and a bottle of Rioja.
Those two look happy. Must have been a good demo or presentation today. They got the deal and now it’s time to relax and enjoy the fruits of their labours. Splashing out on a bottle of fizz – cava, but what the hell – it’s the bubbles that count, not the label.
Professional lady pushes her salad about. Perrier for her. Needs a clear head for that meeting tomorrow. If this goes well, the Board will be bound to notice her. The nanny has dealt with the kids. Fenella’s flute lessons are costing a bomb, but tomorrow could cover them, and a new instrument for Christmas. Polish up that Powerpoint in the room tonight. Could make all the difference.
Food arrives. No surprises, but it’s hot and edible. Must have been the top man on the microwave tonight. A menu by committee. The kitchen staffed by minimum wagers. What do you expect, you snob. You’re in a medium priced hotel in a medium sized city, with medium ambitions. The waitresses obviously enjoy the food – a good sign I suppose. Never eat in a place with skinny staff is my motto – but what do I know – Mr Medium Rare, Mr Second Cheapest Wine on the list.
The blokes stare at their phones and text their mates. Footy on later. Couple of pints in the bar. Maybe someone tasty will turn up. You never know. Tonight could be the night. Or not.
Was it always like this? Did we always have this strange group of people who can sit together and say nothing to each other? We stare blankly at the screen. Doesn’t matter what’s on. Could be rugby, boxing, athletics, knitting – it’s all the same. Just something to stop us returning to our rooms. Just something to make us feel that we’re part of something. Just something to stop us sitting at the bar and getting hammered. Can’t do that these days. Got to be responsible, professional, promote the Company’s Visions and Values. Should I do a risk assessment?
Time to go. Time to make the call. Time for a bit of reality.
Home tomorrow.
Just got to get through the rest of tonight.