Page 44 of Another Lucky Number

‘And where is normal life for you, sir?’ Charnice takes the room key card from the man and expertly taps at the keyboard, while remaining fully engaged in the conversation.

‘Dorset, in the UK. We gather it’s about fifteen degrees cooler with stormy weather rolling in every couple of days.’

Betty visibly shivers at the thought.

‘Maybe you can focus on your nice memories to distract you from the rain?’ says Charnice. ‘If it makes you feel better, it will be hurricane season here. We’ll have a lot of rain here too.’

‘Gosh, yes. Perhaps better to have our British storms. Right, Betty?’

‘It does make home sound more appealing.’ Betty perks up all of a sudden.

‘I’m glad.’ Charnice plucks a sheet of paper from the printerand places it on the desk. ‘You are checked out, Mr and Mrs Jeffries. Here is a copy of your invoice. I wish you a good journey home and I hope you will come and visit us again soon.’

‘We hope so too,’ says Mr Jeffries. ‘Perhaps for our golden wedding anniversary in a few years’ time.’

‘I hope to see you then. Neville here will show you to your transfer to the airport.’ Charnice turns to me once Neville has seamlessly taken over care of Mr and Mrs Jeffries. ‘There you are, Emma. That is how you check the guests out.’

‘That was really impressive, Charnice,’ I say.

‘What was impressive?’

‘You didn’t just check them out. You made them feel good about going home. They were so disappointed to be leaving, then one comment about hurricane season and they practically skipped off to their transfer.’

‘My job is to make people happy.’ Charnice shrugs as if her actions aren’t worth mentioning. ‘It’s easy to do this when they arrive and they’re excited to get their first taste of the resort. But they should leave happy too.’

‘I love that. Is it really that bad here during hurricane season?’ My eyes widen in anticipation of her answer.

‘No. Unless a very big one comes, and that’s not often on this island, thankfully. But people are afraid of hurricanes, especially those who have never experienced them. It’s a way of helping them appreciate what they have, though I use it sparingly. We still want people to visit all year round.’

‘Well, I think it was genius. Perfectly pitched for those two guests.’

‘Thank you, Emma. I’m glad to impress you.’

I observe Charnice in action for around an hour, giving outstanding personal service to every guest who approaches the desk: processing their check outs, giving them information about sightseeing excursions, answering their questions aboutthe resort. She’s a complete pro and I can see that she’s the epitome of everything the company wants to showcase.

‘Would you like to manage the next check out, Emma?’ she asks, when we find ourselves with another lull in activity. ‘I will manage the computer while you speak to the guests?’

‘Really?’ I cringe. ‘Are you sure you want to let me loose on your customers?’

‘Why not? I think you will be very natural at this.’

‘OK, sure. Let’s give it a try.’

I step forward, fixing a friendly smile on my face while I await my first customer. Suddenly, I see a man storming across the atrium towards us – and he doesn’t look happy at all. It’s the man I overheard in the bar the other day: the one who was talking about a housekeeping staff member in a derogatory way.

‘Emma, this is not a check out,’ says Charnice. ‘I will handle this.’

I step back, relieved.

‘Good morning, Mr Miller. How may I help you today?’

He ignores Charnice’s greeting, instead choosing to bark at her. ‘I want to speak with the hotel manager.Now.’

Charnice doesn’t even waver, her smile remaining as genuine as it was with the previous (nicer) guests. ‘The duty manager is dealing with another matter currently, Mr Miller. Rather than you waiting, may I help you?’

Mr Miller looks like he’s about to explode, his face even redder than it was that afternoon in the bar. ‘Did I not make it clear before that I wanted that maid dealt with?’

‘I remember, sir. She is no longer cleaning you or any of your family’s suites as I recall.’

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