The Chapman Wedding Reception

Strangely enough, as I sit writing this, Mr Chapman is standing in front of me at the reception desk, and to look at him, I can’t help thinking that the soon to be Mrs Chapman is an exceptionally lucky lady.
One guest however, who I am not looking forward to meeting today, is the infamous Mrs Comber, who spent most of Thursday morning pushing me slowly over the edge to the point where I was convinced I was going to lose my mind.

It all started at 8:00am when the phone rang, interrupting me from my morning coffee as I flicked through the pages of the daily mail

“Hello! This is mrs Comber speaking. My husband has a ¾ single room booked for Saturday and Sunday. He’s attending the Chapman Wedding but it looks like the children and I will be able to join him now so is there any chance of us swapping the booking to a family room?”
“No”

Obviously I wasn’t quite so blunt about it but in short the answer was no. I explained to Mrs Comber that the Chapman wedding party had booked out the entire hotel. With the exception of 2 budget single rooms that would not be suitable to accommodate a family and so unfortunately there was no possible way we could accommodate them
“Oh…” she said in a tone that suggested she was going to throw herself off the cliff the minute she put down the phone.
“What a shame”
“Yeah…… Its is”
Following that, there was a deadly silence on the line that must have lasted for a round 5 seconds
“Are you there mrs Comber?
“Yes I’m here, I’m just thinking”
“OK”
More silence
“Those Budget single rooms? What are they like?”
“If you’re trying to ask me if there is any possible way you can get a family of 4 inside one Mrs Comber, the answer I’m afraid is no”
That’s what I wanted to say. But I opted for the more diplomatic response
“Well they’re just small rooms with a single bed in Mrs Comber. Very Basic”
“Right, Right… Shame”
“Yeah…. It is”

Now this was followed by another deathly silence, at which point I was thinking “What does this woman want me to do??? Are we going to stay on the phone all morning talking about what a shame it is that we don’t have a family room available? Is she staying on the line in the hope that if she stays on long enough it will give amicable time for us to build an extra family room so that she and her ratbag children can stay? What? What do you want from me?
“Do you want to have a chat with your husband Mrs Comber and see what he wants to do?”
“Yeah, Yeah I’ll do that, I’ll do that. Thanks very much”
Gone
On recollection, I probably muttered something to myself as I put the phone down. I tend to do that quite a lot. The thing about being a hotel receptionist is that you do tend to meet a lot of incredibly stupid people, and I have a very low tolerance level of stupid people. I once put the phone down on someone who called and got as far as saying “I’m a bit lost” If you can’t plan your route properly darling don’t phone me. Not my problem. But I think it’s the little things that get to me the most. Like the people who drift around the lobby as though is a maze, completely oblivious to the huge monstrous sign that says “EXIT TO CAR PARK” I used to ask those people if they were ok and needed help. Not any more. They’re on the same par as the people who come up to the desk and say “I wanna check out” then put the key fob in front of me with the room number facing down. Check out from where love? Am I meant to know who you are? Muppet!
So anyway as I put the phone down. Mrs Comber very quickly placed herself into the same category of those people I have just mentioned. I t was 8:15 and she had already managed to aggravate me. Little did I know, she hadn’t even started.
10:00am. I was in the back office sorting out the change order when I received a text message on my phone. I walked up to the desk, picked up the phone, opened the flip and that spurred the following reaction..
“NOOOOOOOOOO!”
The screen on my phone which one sported a picture of my gorgeous border collie was white and fuzzy with a huge crack down the middle. How did it happen, I had no idea, but one thing I did know was that it was time to panic.
Within minutes, all 8 members off staff who were in the building had been notified that my phone was broken. As they stood at the desk in awe of my ranting it was made clear to them that nobody was to move until someone had come up with a solution. One by one they handed over their phones as I ripped their batteries and sim card out in attempt to try and retrieve my phone numbers and of course to see who the text message was from. When once again I was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing on the desk, I made it clear to the 8 members of staff who were still being held captive at the desk that nobody was to move until I came off the phone

“Hello it’s mrs comber was it you I was speaking to earlier”
Jesus Christ! This is all I need
“Yes Mrs Comber this is Emma you were speaking to me earlier. Are you ok?”
“Yeah yeah I’m fine I just wanted to see about the situation for this weekend”
“Ok”
“Those budget singles definitely won’t take a family?”
My forefingers at that point were pressed firmly against my temples, my eyes were squeezed shut, and I was slowly but surely losing the will to live. My mobile phone, is broken, and this woman is phoning to ask me if she can fit a family of 4 into a budget single room.
Breathe Emma….. Just Breathe.
“No Mrs Comber. Unfortunately there is no possible way of fitting 4 people into a budget single room. I’m sorry”
“Right ok. Shame isn’t it?”
“Yeah… It is”
That was then followed by a long silence, during which I was scowling down the phone and mouthing “What do you want me to say?????”
“Are you there mrs Comber?”
“Yes yes I’m here”
Another long pause
“I’m just thinking”
“THINKING WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT? AND WHY ARE YOU PHONING ME? DON’T DRAG ME INTO IT I’VE GOT ENOUGH TO THINK ABOUT! MY BLOODY PHONES BROKEN AND YOUR RINGING ME TO TELL THAT YOU’RE THINKING! I DON’T NEED IT MRS COMBER! I JUST DON’T NEED IT”
That’s what I wanted to say, but of course in those kind of situations, one must always try to compose oneself and maintain the level of professionalism that would be expected, and so I replied
“Ok…. Go on”
“Well it’s just a shame isn’t it?”

OH…. MY… GOD! Get this woman off the phone now before I wrap the telephone wire around my neck in an attempt to end the torture that is this conversation.
Those were my exact thoughts as I stared at my colleagues who were still being held hostage in front of the desk, giggling at my erratic state as though it were purely for their amusement
“Do you want to have another chat with your husband and see what he says?” It worked the last time, I thought. No harm in trying it again
“Yeah, yeah I’ll do that, I’ll do that ok thank you!”
Gone.
Now… my phone.
It took 4 members of staff to persuade me that my phone was indeed, knackered. Although Chef didn’t put it quite so politely. Luckily our new sous chef has a friend who runs a little shop not far from here where he sells handsets for next to nothing so he offered to take me down there after work, leading me to realise that maybe, just maybe I had over reacted, only slightly.
So another 2 hours went past, the hostages had been released and allowed to go about their duties whilst I sat flicking through the Daily Mail. Then the phone rang

“Hi there! Are you the lady I spoke to earlier?”
“No! No I aren’t. That person isn’t here any more. You pushed her right over the edge and she’s now walking around Newcastle Town Centre in her underwear talking to pigeons”
At least that’s what I wanted to say
“Yes Mrs Comber It’s me. How are you doing?”
“I’m good yeah! Right… I’ve been phoning round a few family members…..”
“Oh? Oh Have you? So it’s not just been you’ve been aggravating all morning then? You’ve inflicted your indecisive ranting on the rest of the family as well! That makes me feel better that I’m not alone in it all. Thank you Mrs Comber”
Again, that’s just what was in my head
“Ok…And what have you decided?
What had been decided, was that Mrs Comber is going to move into the room that Mr Comber was originally in, and Mr Comber is now going to go into one of the budget singles, The daughter is probably going to sleep in her room with either her nan or her aunty, she’s not quite sure, probably her nan, but then it depends. anyway she’ll let me know about that one. And with regards to the little boy well he’s going to sleep in the ¾ bed with his mummy because he’ll probably want to sleep with mummy anyway and….

“OH MY GOD! Mrs Comber will you please shut up! I can’t deal with you any more!

Floating head… slowly drifting back. Compose yourself Emma. You’re doing really well.

“Yeah that all sounds fine to me Mrs Comber. I will get all of that sorted for you, and we will see you at the wedding on Saturday”

Gone

So on Saturday morning, at 7:00am. I walked into work in a positive frame of mind, telling myself that it was going to be a good day, Nothing was going to get me down, and I could handle anything that was thrown at me.

I went into the kitchen, made myself a coffee, then went onto the desk where I sat beside the night porter who had a handful of notes ready to hand over.

“Ok” he said “First things first. We had a phone call last night from a lady named Mrs Comber………”