I like my boss. She is my age, very smart, super fit, fair, kind and a little neurotic. She freely admits her propensity to be a tad high-strung at times. My tendency to react to neurotic energy with calm is perhaps a big reason we mesh well.
She is going away for 10 days over the holidays with a couple and a female friend of theirs. She was invited after they had planned the trip, so the plan was for her to share a room with this other woman that she doesn’t know. My boss gamely booked her flights, paid for her excursions and blocked out her calendar for this trip. It is a bucket list type vacation.
Then her feet began getting cold. Particularly when they sent her links to the accommodations. She would be sharing a bedroom and bath with a complete stranger. She wasn’t comfortable and began regretting her plans.
If you, Dear Readers, know anything about me, it is I am good with pragmatic advice. She confided her anxiety to me. I told her she was 100% justified. I helped her find a great boutique hotel for the middle part of the trip. I suggested she simply explain to her hosts that she travel points that were expiring. She felt relieved and happy.
Then she decided that a hotel for the first leg would be best, so she jumped on the internet and booked a great, mainstream hotel for the first spot. That’s where things went sideways for me.
She was on Trivago prowling around and my suggestion for Stop #2 popped up. She clicked on it and was horrified. Trivago identified my hotel as an LGBT, clothing optional hotel. Now, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the LGBT part, but the prospect of a clothing optional hotel with rooftop terrace was not part of her dream vacation.
She called me into her office. “Shut the door. We need to talk”. I’m still riding high from yesterday’s glowing review. “What’s up?” She fills me in and I am dumbstruck.
“Hold on”, I say. “We both read reviews. Heterosexual couples reviewed this place and loved it. That doesn’t make sense. We need to call them.” She had their website up on her computer and they describe themselves as “family friendly”. I tell her that no clothing optional hotel would also call itself family friendly.
We call them. She cracks me up. I am to do the talking on the speaker phone. The front desk answers and I use my favorite line when something doesn’t jive with me. “I’m confused…” and I explain that I’m about to book but see conflicting information. The front desk explains that the hotel sold two years ago and they have completely re-branded. I clarify, “No more clothing optional areas?” No.
My boss and I were rolling on the floor in hysterics after the call. The pictures we were painting of old, wrinkled, nekkid men had us in stitches. Crisis averted, but that was a close call.
No wonder the admin is jealous…this is one story that will not be repeated in the office…