by Dyan Sheldon
Ella picked me up after work.
Bergstrom’s Travel Lodge is a large, sprawling, two-storey brick building that looks vaguely colonial (there’s a clock tower and a rooster weathervane on top of that), which was obviously constructed in more hopeful times. You know, when someone for some reason thought New Jersey was going to become the tourist hot spot of the eastern seaboard.
“Wow…” breathed Ella as we pulled off the highway. “I’ve never seen it so full before. It looks like a car auction.”
“I don’t see the equipment trucks, though. Maybe they’re still on the set.” I unfastened my seatbelt. “Come on, let’s go and make sure that Charley Hottle’s registered.”
The lobby continued the colonial theme (rounded wooden chairs and tables, brass lamps, a fake fireplace complete with coalscuttle and upholstery featuring eagles and flags). At the very back was a high, polished, wooden counter with a sign on the front that said, “Bergstrom’s – Where the Journey Is as Important as the Destination”. There was a hallway on either side of the lobby, and the door to one of them was propped open with a cleaner’s cart, but there was no sign of a maid and no one behind the reception desk.
“Hello?” I called. “Hello? Is anybody here?”
Ella surveyed the desk. “Isn’t there usually a bell or something?” There was half a cup of coffee and a large, black book that was obviously the register next to the computer, a pink sweater over the back of the high, swivel chair behind it, and three phones on the counter, but no bell.
“It’s sort of eerie, isn’t it?” whispered Ella. “It’s like they’ve been abducted by aliens or something.”
“Except that I can hear footsteps above us.” And the opening and closing of doors somewhere else in the building. I called again, “Hello? Hello?” When no one answered I leaned over the desk and turned the register around.
“Lola!” hissed Ella. “Lola, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I want to see if Charley Hottle’s checked in here.”
“But you can’t do that. It’s private.” Ella is not only my best friend, she likes to double as the conscience she says I don’t have.
I flipped back a few pages and found one that had Plentitude Productions written at the top. I wanted to shout and sing and jump up and down. I wanted to run onto the roof and scream to the sky and the sun and the passing cars: I was right! I was right! I knew I was right! But all I said was, “If it’s so private they shouldn’t leave it lying around like that.” My eyes ran down the page like a mouse down a wall.
I’d just spotted Charley Hottle’s name (room 65) when a woman suddenly appeared down the hallway to our left and started banging on one of the doors. “Gracia!” she shouted. “Gracia! Hurry up! Aren’t you done yet? Paloma needs some help upstairs.”
“Pero Mrs Seiser,” Gracia shouted back. “There is throw-up beneath the bed. I need more cloths.”
“I suppose we should be grateful it isn’t a body,” snapped Mrs Seiser. “I’ll get some rags.”
Ella jumped at this intrusion, but I calmly shut the book and was leaning with my back to the counter by the time Mrs Seiser came marching towards us like an invasion.
I’ve lived long enough with Karen Kapok to know when someone is eyeing me suspiciously. “Who are you looking for?” she demanded.
“The manager. We—”
“That’s me.” I hid my surprise. Mrs Seiser’s general demeanour seemed better suited to the job of prison guard than hotel manager. “I’ll be with you in a second.”
The phone started ringing as she strode past us to the opposite hallway. “Get that for me, will you? If it’s someone wanting a room before August, tell them we’re all booked up. If it’s someone wanting to speak to one of the guests, they’re all out so they’ll have to call back later.”
I picked up the phone. I’d seen enough movies with hotels in them to be able to do this cold. “Bergstrom’s Travel Lodge, where the journey is as important as the destination,” I said in my most businesslike voice. “May I help you? Just wait one minute please and I’ll check… Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’re fully booked at the moment. Perhaps you’d care to make a reservation for later in the summer … or even in the autumn? That’s a spectacular time of year in New Jersey – when the entire countryside looks like it’s dressed in a coat of many colours.”
Ella poked me in the ribs. “Stop ad-libbing!” she hissed. “You don’t work here, you’re just answering the phone.”
I turned my back on her. A great actor can’t let the audience distract her. “Thank you so much for choosing Bergstrom’s,” I purred. “Please call again when your path next takes you past our door.”
Ella groaned as I put down the receiver. I told her she sounded like the pipes in our house. She told me I sounded like some kind of New Age salesperson.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask their star sign,” said Ella.
“And I’m surprised yours isn’t the crab.”
The phone had just started ringing again when Mrs Seiser rematerialized carrying a bucket and some rags.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” I called.
“Thanks.” She held up her hand. “Just a few more seconds…” She charged past us and disappeared through the door where Gracia had found throw-up under the bed.
“She seems pretty busy,” said Ella. “I guess they’re not used to so much business.”
I said, “Um…” I was watching the door in case Charley Hottle suddenly walked through it, but though my mind wasn’t forming conscious thoughts, deep down below the surface, where creativity and instinct meet to become genius, it was engaged in serious thinking. It does that kind of thing all the time.
Mrs Seiser finally came back again.
“I’m sorry.” She continued briskly past us. “But I’m having one of those summers. These people really think that they’re the centre of the solar system. You’ve been very helpful, for which I am grateful, but if you’re here because of the movie I—”
This is where the creativity and instinct meet to make genius bit comes in. Without any of the work or trouble of conscious thought I said, “Movie?” I gazed at the back of her head in innocent surprise. “I’m sorry…” My voice was hesitant and polite. I didn’t want to be rude to an adult of course, but I was genuinely confused. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mrs Seiser stopped as though there was a white rhino in her path. She turned to look at me. “You don’t?” Her eyes moved from me to Ella and back to me. “Are you saying you two don’t know they’re making a Hollywood movie nearby and that the film crew’s staying here? I thought everybody within a hundred mile radius knew that.”
“Really? Here?” I fairly clapped my hands in girlish glee. I turned to Ella. “Wow, did you hear that? They’re making a movie in Dellwood! And we didn’t hear a word about it!” I turned back to Mrs Seiser. “How exciting for you to have the crew in your hotel!”
Mrs Seiser sighed a nothing-is-all-good kind of sigh. “I suppose so. But they’ve pretty much taken us over and it’s – well, it’s a little stressful.” She stepped behind the reception desk. “But enough of that, since you aren’t here because you want to talk to the producer or the director or ask the soundman about his equipment like everyone else in the county, what can I do for you?”
Ella looked at me – expectation mingled with fear of the unknown.
I smiled back at Mrs Seiser, knowing exactly what I was going to say. “My friend and I are looking for summer jobs.”
I could tell from the way her eyes were practically popping out of her head that my friend had stopped breathing.
“Oh…” Mrs Seiser murmured. It was a weakly hopeful sound. “Well, I could use a couple of extra chambermaids – just while these movie people are here, you understand…” She looked us up and down. I prayed she couldn’t tell that Ella lived in an exclusive community where everyone had servants. “I don’t suppo
se you have any experience?”
It’s important to be trusted by your employer of course, so I shook my head in an honest, forthright manner. “Not in this large an establishment,” I admitted. “But my mother used to have a bed and breakfast when we lived in Connecticut, and naturally I helped her out.”
Ella made a sound that was somewhere between choking and gurgling but Mrs Seiser was umming approvingly and didn’t hear her. “You don’t say… Well that counts as experience in my book.” She glanced over at Ella. “And what about you?”
Ella did her impersonation of a rabbit caught in headlights.
“Ella’s mother has very exacting standards of neatness and cleanliness,” I explained, “so though she has no professional experience as such you would have to consider her trained.”
Desperation is a very powerful incentive, and if anyone was desperate it was Mrs Seiser. “Well,” she said, “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in giving you a try.” She laughed, a sound as close to happiness as hell is. “At least you speak English.” She opened a drawer and took out two sheets of paper. “Why don’t you take these application forms with you and fill them out tonight. If you come around eight tomorrow morning after the Hollywood mafia’s left for the day, we’ll get you started straight away.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You won’t regret this.”
Mrs Seiser gave another sad laugh. “Let’s hope you don’t.”
It wasn’t until we were back in the car that Ella finally spoke.
“Crazy,” she said. “You are definitely, absolutely and without any qualifications, one hundred and fifty per cent certifiably insane.”
And people think I exaggerate. I’m strictly an amateur next to Ella. “Well, I think I’m pretty brilliant.”
“Oh, do you?” Ella jabbed the key into the ignition as if it was a knife. “And what do you think is so brilliant? Getting us jobs as maids without even consulting me? Is that your definition of brilliance?”
“Oh, come on, El. This is our golden opportunity. It’s way better than just waltzing in and asking to see him. We’ll be there every day. Which means we’re bound to run into him in a casual, non-threatening way. It’ll be like taking candy from a sleeping baby. We’ll say ‘hi’, and he’ll say ‘hi’. We’ll exchange pleasantries about the weather. He’ll ask us for extra towels, and we’ll ask him if we can be extras. If you ask me, it’s like a present from the gods.”
One Gerard eyebrow rose in disdain. “Oh, really? You don’t think that maybe you’re overlooking one or two things? Like my mother? What’s my mother going to say when I tell her what we’re doing? Do you think she’s going to race to the phone to tell all her friends? ‘Oh! Guess what! My daughter’s got a job as a maid!’?”
“They wouldn’t believe her. Your mom’s friends think all maids are Hispanic.”
“Hahaha. Answer my question.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” It never ceases to amaze me how people like Ella always have to create problems where none exist. “So don’t tell her.”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t tell her’? You don’t think she might notice that I’m out of the house before she gets up and don’t come home all day?”
Even I could see that this was ridiculous. Unlike Karen Kapok, Mrs Gerard has a very hands-on attitude to motherhood. But once you’re firmly set on the path of brilliance you just keep going, don’t you? “OK.” I nodded towards the building next to Bergstrom’s. “Tell her we’re working in the diner. It’s so close it’s not really a lie.” Mrs Gerard is a woman who makes her own pasta. She was more likely to become a chambermaid herself than drop by the diner to check.
Ella groaned. I had her cornered. “All right. Let’s say she buys that, what about the other little things you’ve so conveniently forgotten? Like the fact that you already have a job? And the fact that we don’t know what our hours or responsibilities are or even what they’re paying us?”
I considered these to be tediously trivial details. “Who cares what they’re paying us or anything like that? We’re not in it for the money, El. And as far as my other job goes, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just tell Mrs Magnolia that Karen’s having cash-flow problems and I need to get something that pays more. I’ll tell Karen that Mrs Magnolia had to lay me off because business is so bad.” I could work on an assembly line for all my mother cared, as long as I got paid.
I’ve heard Ella’s mother sigh in exactly the same way when the cream sauce curdled.
“You can’t actually be a pathological liar,” said Ella, “because I don’t think a pathological liar knows that she’s lying.”
“And as for the other stuff,” I went on, “what does it matter?”
“What does it matter?” parroted Ella. “I’ll tell you what it matters. For one thing, I’m not sure I’m up to hard manual labour. I read this book about low-wage workers and—”
“Ella, we’re not building the pyramids here.” I laughed. “We’re just making a few beds and putting fresh towels and soap in the bathrooms. What could be easier than that? And anyway, it’s not like it’s a career move. It’s a temporary measure. As soon as we get our parts, we quit. And there’s no way we won’t get parts now. We’re practically living with the crew.”
“So is Carla,” said Ella, “but she doesn’t have to clean their toilets.”
Somehow, I hadn’t thought about cleaning toilets being involved. I shoved the thought aside.
“You’re being negative. It’s not like you’ll have to even look. They’ll have the latest toxic chemical to do the work for you. And besides, you have to view this from the right perspective. This is an important rite of passage for us.”
Ella looked over as she put the car in reverse. “Being maids?”
“Only in a general sense. I mean joining the real workforce. Let’s face it, you and I have led sheltered lives, Ella. You especially. But now we’re officially no longer children – and, as the poet said, it’s time to put away childish things. If you think about it, this is a much bigger step than just going to college. School is not reality, Ella. This is our chance to see what adult life is really like.”
“You’re already part of the workforce,” Ella reminded me.
“But not one where the rest of the staff speaks Spanish.”
As Rites Of Passage Go, This One Isn’t As Good As A Wedding
My confidence in dealing with the first group of minor details wasn’t misplaced.
When I told Mrs Magnolia that there were hard times in the world of handmade dinnerware that made it imperative for me to make more money than she was giving me, she was as philosophical as you might expect of someone who is plagued by migraines and who works in used clothes.
“The small business is an endangered species in this country,” she said. “Tell your mother she has my sympathy.”
I said I knew my mother would appreciate that.
When I told Karen I had a job as a chambermaid she said, “You? The girl who thinks the floor is an extension of her closet?”
I told her I’d heard of many professional gourmet chefs who eat baked beans and frozen dinners at home. “A job is different to life,” I said.
“That’s what you think,” said my mother.
Ella picked me up at seven-thirty the next morning. We were silent all the way to the travel lodge because Ella wasn’t capable of speech yet and wasn’t willing to listen to mine.
A maroon people carrier was pulling out of the parking lot as we pulled in.
“Look!” I cried. “It’s Charley Hottle! We just missed him!”
“Don’t scream like that,” Ella ordered. “I nearly went into shock.”
At last, the wall of hostility that Fate had constructed around me was starting to crumble. “Oh, this is so definitely the break we needed. I wonder how long our shift is? Maybe we’ll still be here when he gets back.”
Ella pulled into a space that said Employee Parking. “If we are I hope we’re getting overtime,” she grumbled
.
It was barely eight o’clock and already Mrs Seiser looked like she’d had a long, hard day. She sounded like it too.
“It’s one thing after another with these movie people,” she informed us as soon as we stepped into the lobby. “They never stop. Where’s this? Where’s that? Why can’t you? Why didn’t you? What happened to? Yadayadayada morning, noon and night. They must all have servants.” Mrs Seiser sniffed. “Servants or slaves. And of course Gracia’s cousin Paloma’s supposed to be helping us out, but she didn’t turn up at all today.” She lowered her voice to a confidential level. “Those people are so unreliable. They have no sense of loyalty and commitment.” She gave another disapproving sniff. “And of course they don’t really like to work. You have to keep on them every minute.”
I wasn’t sure which people she was talking about – maids? People who are helping you out? Women named Paloma? – but I stood up tall and smiled confidently so that she’d know I wasn’t to be counted among their number. “We can’t wait to get started,” I assured her. “We’re both imbued with a very strong work ethic.”
“It’s nice to know someone is,” said Mrs Seiser. “And thank God you’ve got some experience, I don’t have even a few seconds this morning for a heavy training session. I’ve got to go and see what happened to the laundry. Come on, I’ll go through the formalities and then Gracia will show you where everything is. If you have any questions, ask her.”
The formalities included giving us algae-green housecoats, plastic nametags, yellow rubber gloves, and ticking off our duties on her fingers – twice.
Up until the moment Mrs Seiser handed me my nametag it had never occurred to me that it was possible to misspell “Lola”.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Mrs Seiser. “We know who we mean.”
Then she gave us each a photocopy of her own original composition: RULES FOR CLEANERS. Mrs Seiser has more rules than the Old Testament. Don’t do this … don’t do that … don’t even think about doing that… Just about the only thing a cleaner was allowed to do besides work was breathe.