Bolt from the blue: When Usain called up for dinner

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[google-translator]

My mind often goes back to my internship days as a room service attendant at Zurich airport’s Movenpick Hotel. The internship, which lasted six months, was part of my hotel management degree, undertaken in Switzerland, over a decade ago.

I had to report by 5 to begin delivery of early morning breakfast – all on different floors. The list of these orders would reach our department through the front office staff. By 6 many orders would start landing directly on my cordless phone, which the attendant on duty had to fix with one’s belt. I can still recall some guests would sound so sleepy that I had to re-confirm what they just said.

I liked setting the trolley tables used for ferrying food with sparkling white table covers and a vase with a fresh rose at the centre. But even before that, I had to rush to the hotel’s breakfast buffet to fill my large bread basket, where Maria, a middle-aged Italian chef, would welcome me with her anger, like any other morning. “You take so much bread, it disturbs my buffet,” she would say, giving every word the authentic Italian touch.

Ending the calls with the promised time of the food’s delivery, we rushed towards the elevators. With a gentle knock on the door or by pressing the doorbell, we announced our arrival. Some guests opened the door instantly; some were slow as a tortoise, delaying us for the next delivery. Some exuded gratitude, appreciating greatly as we rolled the table in, and some didn’t bother even to respond to our greetings.

It was those non-stop orders, sometimes in the very same minute, which put us in pressure as for most shifts, there was only one attendant. Under the weight of it all, I have misunderstood orders, and on arrival in the rooms faced, “This is not what I requested for.” The real stress, however, was during the late-night shifts when the attendant also had to play the role of a chef, juggling with the night menu which consisted of mainly salads, burgers and some fried treats. Every such night remained hectic and chaotic.

But when the world-famous Jamaican athlete, Usain Bolt, was staying with us and I was told that he may order food at night, I was thrilled. The thrill coursed also through my Haryanvi colleague, Vijay Kumar, who voluntarily joined me the same night. In the middle of the night, I received Bolt’s call. At first, he ordered only a plate of salads but a minute later he called again, this time for a burger with extra cheese and fries. We began preparing, unable to contain our exhilaration. Soon, we found ourselves standing outside his door and then right in front of him. It was a rare feeling and we went on praising him, terming ourselves fortunate to serve him dinner. He was humble and kind, like any nice neighbour next door.

Taking his signature on the food bill, we stepped out not only with beautiful pictures but also with a priceless memory. The following morning, as I noticed the hotel lobby flooded with his fans, eager to meet him or just catch his glimpse, it was a reminder that how lucky the last night shift had been for my colleague and me. rameshinder.sandhu@gmail.com

The writer is an Amritsar-based freelance contributor


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