So, here I am, unable to get into my hotel room, because the inside door latch locked when I slammed the door to get out this morning to get to my appointments, and now I can’t open the door to get in and get ready for dinner. I suppose if I call the maintenance man he can come in through the window or the roof, open the door from the inside and let me in. The least I can do is try it.
I explain the situation to a crabby looking young lady sitting behind the counter at the front desk, but it didn’t get through to her brain; it must be my accent. She then called the maintenance man, who couldn’t understand a word she was saying, never mind trying to figure it out in his mind. After a few minutes, he came in to let everyone know that he was on his break, but would be coming back soon. After more than 30 minutes, my patience all but gone, he returned with a pair of pliers big enough to cut through the man of steel and asked me to follow him to my room. Worst case scenario he can always open the adjacent room door and get through the common doors.
Once there, he discovered my room did not have a common door, was in the second floor so he couldn’t jump in through the window, the chain on the door was too short to put the cutters through and he was having a rough time adjusting the pliers’ handles. After a few minutes, he decided it was too much work so he left, promising a prompt return. Meanwhile, with the swimming pool staring at me, the soda machine in front and a few children frolicking around and making a tremendous amount of noise I was ready for a long relaxing bath and ear plugs.
The said maintenance man returned accompanied by another thug, with smaller cutters and a grin on his face. Neither could get into my room. The grin left the second thug’s face; they looked straight out at me and said they couldn’t get in the room; the chain was latched and it’s burglar proof. Then they left.
Now, I’m supposed to be getting ready for dinner with the local rep and all I have with me is my briefcase and purse. No make-up, no brush, no toothpaste, no clean clothes. What to do? I take myself to the front desk one more time and was informed the maintenance man has left for the day. How accommodating.
Now there is no time to at least comb my hair.
Without much fanfare, the local rep comes dancing through the door and finds me waiting for an answer from the front desk. She then proceeds to give me the solution to my plight. She is about 5 feet tall, 90 lbs. soaking wet and her hands are so little…. Guess what? She unlatched the door – from the outside – with her small hands.
So much for hotel security or maintenance man.
