If you want to know what really goes on behind the scenes in a hotel, the place to go is to the great series of ‘Babylon’ books by Imogen Edward-Jones and Anonymous cover several modern industries eg airlines, pop world, the fashion scene as well as hotels.
As we haven’t written a book, we can only tell you some of our experiences of heaven-sent guests and their counterparts from hell.
(All are protected by anonymity, although I’m not sure that some deserve it).
The darling couple who, against all odds, found a book from our collection and therefore bearing a Raheem Residency stamp, in a French hotel – clearly left there by an earlier marauding RR guest – and brought it all the way back to us.
This one is beyond belief. And certainly beyond endurance. He was a walk-in guest (had not booked earlier). The staff showed him three rooms – no, not one them pleased him. He finally opted for one because we were filling up. Secondly he wanted fish for dinner but insisted that it MUST be caught in the sea opposite us just an hour or so earlier. He wanted the entire king fish – that would be about 5 kgs.
At breakfast, he insisted – but I stopped him in his tracks – on coming into the kitchen to cook his own omelette. Well, we had a full house and after he attempted to push past the waiter I was called for back-up. I explained we were full and therefore chaos would ensue if we started to allow guests to cook their own breakfast. ‘He had stayed in countless posh hotels and they all allowed him to do it’, he said. I wasn’t impressed. He had to cook it himself because Indians over-cook their eggs. Still not impressed.
So I compromised.
I personally supervised the light cooking of a damn omelette and it still wasn’t undercooked enough.
My question: has he nothing else to bother about in his life that a bloody omelette is paramount? Sad really.
Another tale from Raheem Residency, located at Alleppey Beach, in Kerala, India