ojai news at The Ojai Post :: blog, newspaper, events in Ojai, California

“Good afternoon, this is Susan,” I said into the receiver through clenched teeth, feigning politeness.

“It’s Jimmy, we’re coming up the driveway.”

“Jimmy! You’re an hour early! You were supposed to call when you left the jetport!” My polite charade quickly gave way to an audible meltdown.

“Sorry, the cell phone’s been out. Uh, see you soon!”

I panicked and threw the phone into the cradle. I had been running around all day, make that all week, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s to get ready for the owners’ arrival to the hotel. One look in the mirror was all I needed to know that I was certainly not looking my “Royal” best. While frantically barking orders into the phone to ensure the bellmen, housekeepers, and front desk were ready, I tried to make myself look presentable. I hastily pulled back my disheveled hair and swept it up, dusted powder over the inevitable oil slick that again found its rightful place on my forehead, swiped some color on my lips, straightened my name tag, took one look at my shoes and gasped. Scuffs abounded all over my black loafers. Knowing Mrs. Royal was the kind of blue-blood who would immediately notice my shoes first while giving me the obligatory once-over, I conceded that I was in trouble. I cursed myself for not keeping some shoe polish in my drawer and failing to have a spare set of presentable pumps under my desk. There was definitely no time to beg shoe polish off the bellmen. While rifling through my desk I came across the best invention since duct tape, a Sharpie! I lunged at it and opened the cap. The smell almost knocked me over but was strangely comforting. I tentatively dragged it over a scratch across the vamp of my loafer, and instantly found that it provided a miraculous camouflage. Elated and feeling quite clever, I sat in my chair for the first time all day, threw one foot on top of my desk, contorted myself over my shoe and began scribbling furiously. I sat back to inspect my work, almost forgetting the time. I was rather proud of the black shine my Sharpie coaxed out of the tired leather, so I switched legs, hunkered down and madly scrawled all over the other shoe.

Just then, Hiram, the General Manager, appeared in my doorway. Mortified, I jumped to my feet like an obedient soldier and flung the marker across the room, nearly tagging him in the head. He appeared to subtly duck and wince, but said nothing.

Pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, I hastily blurted out, “Um, the, they’re coming up the driveway.”

“I knnoowww, are you ready?” he sneered.

“Of course,” I said nonchalantly, and breezed by him, trying to disappear through the doorway, while practically leaping over the non-existent Sharpie lying on the floor. He was right in step, and in my paranoid fantasy, I thought for sure he was staring at my feet. It was just like one of those crazy recurring nightmares I had, where I forget to wear shoes or a shirt to the office.

Hiram took great pleasure in seeing me squirm in his presence. He drove all of his managers to the brink, and I was no exception. Last week I had put in 80 hours before scooting out at noon on Sunday, and the next day I had a voice mail from him asking why I had left early. On one hand, he would trust no one else but me with the details of the owners’ visit, yet on the other, he hovered over me relentlessly to see to it that nothing got missed.

I stood tall and bounded confidently toward them in the lobby, promptly resuming my well-rehearsed effort at maintaining composure and decorum. “Mrs. Royal, so good to have you back,” I faked with a smile that would sell toothpaste. She was as I remembered, perfectly coiffed, from her sassy expertly-dyed bob to her designer kitten heels. Hiram was slobbering all over her, then he proceeded to maul the Mr. Soon the three of them were swooning and I began to wonder if they even knew I was there. Oh, but they did, at least SHE did…