Chapter 2

"Mrs. Teague, can you come her for a minute?"

Mrs. Teague is the hotel's Resident Manager. She's worked at the Adler since she was fifteen. Sixty-two years later, she's refused the Executive Manager position eleven times. Technically, she's only refused ten times, but it was assumed that she still would have refused, so Uncle Mordy didn't even bother asking after Father died.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Goldman?"

"Well, the first thing you can do for me is call me Stephen."

"Oh, no, Mr. Goldman. I can't do that. Rule number one is to treat everyone at the Adler with the highest respect."

"Mrs. Teague, you were born in 1900, is that correct?"

"April the eighteenth."

"You do realize I'm one-third your age?"

"Not quite yet, but close."

"Well, I want you to know that I appreciate your commitment to treating everyone with respect, and I..."

"Everyone at the Adler."

"Yes, everyone at the Adler... with respect..."

"The highest respect."

"The highest respect, yes, and I want you to also know that when I treat you with the highest respect, it isn't because of Rule number one; it's because you deserve the highest respect. Seventy-seven years old and still sharp as a tack! Your loyalty to the Adler is just remarkable."

"Well, I appreciate you saying as much."

"Of course. Of course. Now, if you want to call me Mr. Goldman, I'll respect your wishes, but I would consider it an honor if you were to address me informally... at least when there are no other employees around. Would that be alright with you?"

"That would be fine with me. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Goldman?"

"Ah... you can... I have a question about an upcoming event booking-- the Kessler reunion."

Her demeanor turned visible sour as her eyes glowered at me. "Oh?"

"Yes, it seems there are carpet cleaners scheduled to shampoo the entire hotel--every hallway, every meeting room, and every guest room on the same day. I think we're going to have to reschedule the cleaners."

The pleasantness returned to her face, "Oh, that's alright. They won't be in anybody's way."

She made the statement and turned to leave the desk, as if 'that's alright' is an acceptable answer.

"But, Mrs. Teague, the Kessler Reunion is the largest event on the entire calendar. They've booked the entire hotel--every room--for two days."

"All but one room."

"Yes, I see that. That's weird. Why leave one room?"

"For Miss Weider."

"Oh, yes. I see that here. Ms. Weider-- it isn't Hilda Weider, is it?"

"Not Ms. Weider, Miss Weider. Don't worry yourself about the event. The Kessler family reunion is held at the Adler every year. The carpet cleaners will come in the morning, and will be gone well before any of the Kesslers appear. It's been a convenient arrangement for many years."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I trust you know what you're doing. It just stood out as odd to me, so I wanted to make sure it wasn't something we'd overlooked."

"I understand why you'd come to that conclusion, and if it had been a mistake, it would have been a big one, so please feel free to continue asking questions. You'll need to know how to run the registry so long as you're here."

And with that, she turned and went back to her... whatever it was she was doing. Uncle Mordy found Mrs. Teague to be priceless to the Adler's functioning. She could very well have run the whole place, and in many ways, she did. Polite and lovable, but no-nonsense when it came to keeping a tidy hall, a tidy registry, and a tidy schedule. I liked her right away. 'So long as you're here.' That seemed like a strange thing to say.

When Uncle Mordy took over, he updated the aesthetics from their 1930's decor and upgraded the kitchen, banquet furniture, and a ton of nick-knacks like silverware and flatware, mattresses, telephones, and pool equipment. He added television sets to every room. That was a huge draw. But, he kept a lot of the vintage fixtures in the rooms--the sinks and claw-foot tubs, mirrors, and even the toilet paper dispensers. He said he wanted to keep that vintage feel. I didn't think that make any sense at all. He poured a ton of money into having different wall paper in each room--about the fanciest stuff available--but he wanted the guests to remember the quaintness of having their toilet paper drag against the wall as it unrolled. I guess it all came down to where he was going to spend the money, and toilet paper dispensers were low on the list.

I wished Father had taught me something about the management side of the hotel. A lot of it was common sense, as he liked to say, but a lot of it was making sure the rest of the staff were well-motivated, well-supplied, and on task. I was used to being part of the staff, not managing it. I'm sure Father thought he had plenty of time to teach me that side of the business, and he was adamant about my learning the other aspects of the business first--starting with maintenance, then housekeeping, security, a brief stint in the mail room, and I was the hotel's first male switchboard operator. When we'd moved to the Adler five years ago, I'd thought for sure I'd be a bellhop or a doorman, but Father didn't put me in a position that worked directly with guests until just before Mother's passing two years prior, and that was in room service.

I'd learned quite a lot from Mother as well. She'd worked in staffing (HR, they'd call it now), and accounting, payroll, and scheduling. She wore a lot of hats before she passed. We were all a bit lost without her. Wife, mother, and sister were her greatest roles, and she was many things to many others as well.

Next chapter - theprose.com/post/741560