Page 1 of Off-Limits Bosses
1
Adriana
“Excuse me!” I heard a shrill, urgent voice from behind me, and turned to see a guest so pale her platinum hair seemed darker than her face. “Can you help me?”
I glanced around the foyer. Someone was carrying bags, and the receptionist was on the phone. Mr. Klein, my brand-new boss, was nowhere to be seen. That meant whatever the problem was, it was mine to solve, within the first hour of starting this job.
“Certainly,” I said with a smile, as I had been trained to do. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Elena’s laptop is broken,” the guest answered, wide-eyed and clearly stressed to the bone. “And sheneedsa new one, as in yesterday. She has a meeting in three hours that she simplycannotmiss.”
I resisted the urge to blink in confusion. I had no idea who Elena was, nor how I would start solving something like this. But I couldn’t show my ignorance. I had to be perfectly confident and calm, as if I simply bought new laptops for strangers every day.
“Right,” I said with a quick nod. “May I ask the room number?”
“Honestly, we might need to change rooms, too,” the guest continued. “It’s 422 right now, but Elena doesn’t like the sound of the air conditioning.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I was still smiling, even with my nerves fraying further by the second.
“Just get it done, okay? My job is on the line,” she snapped in return, before storming off toward the elevators, already dialing a number on her phone.
How hard could it be?I thought as I approached the reception desk.After all, I just needed to get a brand-new laptop shipped to a place that was just remote enough to make express delivery impossible. Piece of cake.
I waited for the receptionist, Louisa, to finish checking in the new guests before I approached her behind the desk. She must have noticed something in my expression, because her own clouded over.
“Trouble already?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “They ask you to steal the moon or something?”
“422 wants a new room,” I answered, going over the situation in my mind. “And a replacement laptop.”
“Oh, I can help you with both, no problem.” Louisa smiled with relief, as if this were some minor, regular occurrence. “I’ll switch them to 521 and get a hold of Julio. He knows electronics people. You should get to know him, he’ll be saving your life a lot.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, making a mental note of the name. “Mind emailing me the number? Maybe some others that I need to know?”
“Will do.” Louisa’s eyes were already trained on her computer, her fingers flying as she typed. I left her to it, returning to the concierge desk and wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.
On my resume, I had listed ‘client services management’ as part of my experience. A deliberately vague description that could easily be misconstrued as being related to the concierge position for which I’d applied. It was actually more closely related to the summers I spent checking in clients at a private yacht club.
Still, I didn’t panic. The problem would be sorted out. I was fine, I knew my way around on-the-job training, and I could do this. I just had to be the absolute best concierge these guests had ever seen, and I’d make it through.
“Hey, you!” Someone else was storming up to my desk, clearly ready for a massive argument.
“How may I help you, Sir?” My cheeks were beginning to hurt, but I’d sooner fling myself off a cliff than stop smiling.
“I specifically requested the swan configuration for the towels in my room,” he snapped, and it took real work to keep my surprise hidden. “Who the hell decided that triangles were acceptable?”
“My apologies, Sir,” I answered, as if his rage was completely reasonable. “May I ask for your room number so that I may fix this issue promptly?”
“Incompetent!” he yelled. “How do you not know something as simple as a room number? Do you know who I am?”
“Again, I must sincerely apologize,” I continued, letting my anger simmer beneath the surface but not show on my face. “It’s protocol to confirm this information. As soon as you confirm your room number, I will ensure that the, um, oversight with the towel configuration is rectified.”
“434,” he answered through furious spittle. “You better make sure whoever is responsible for this is disciplined. Absolutely unacceptable.”
“Of course, Sir,” I smiled serenely, even though serene was the last thing I felt. “I will get this cleared up immediately, and it won’t happen again.”
“Better not!” He stormed off toward the front door, and I was relieved that this argument did not go any further.
This issue was an easy one to solve, too; a quick call to room service and the man would never have to look at a triangular configuration again.
