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David Lund | January 20, 2020
By David Lund
Recently I attended a hotel association conference where I was a speaker for one of their breakout sessions. The opening morning of the convention started with a breakfast where we listened to the many important developments within the association over the past year and heard a fantastic story from the morning’s opening speech on the Evacuation of an entire city without a casualty or serious injury from an oncoming forest fire. .
What a morning! But the thing that got to me more than anything that day was a memory. The memory of being in this same room some 35 years ago having breakfast on my own. You see, this was the hotel and the dining room where I signed my very first service meal.
A free meal is something special for most people, especially when it’s good. What I mean is most people only get a free meal when they are at someone else’s house for dinner or a barbecue or a free meal at a good restaurant when someone is over. other pays. It is not the same as a service meal. This free meal with friends or a vendor has terms. You’re either on the hook next time or they want you to buy something. Service meals in hotels are indeed quite different.
Going back 35 years, I had been working at this hotel for a few years. I had started in the same room as a bus boy no more than 20 months earlier. That was in 1985. By my measurements at the time, I was on the fast lane.
I had transferred to this hotel from another in the same company across the country. Which really meant that they offered me a busboy job earning $ 1.90 an hour and to get my first paycheck I had to drive 4,500 kilometers (yes, I’m from Canada) and there was no moving allowance – zip.
In the previous hotel, I had also worked for two years. I worked in bars as a waiter and bartender then I found what I called a real job in front desk and stores last summer. The summer ended and the company offered me a transfer to the west. Most of the way west and getting there was my own accord.
I remember the trip well
The first stop was Montreal to stay with a good bartender friend from the hotel. We tore it up pretty well, including a late night joint on Sainte-Catherine Street. Then it was in North Bay where I met a good friend for a quiet weekend in a cabin on the shores of Lake Nipissing. Then it was the serious part of the drive, into Wisconsin under Lake Superior and across the Canadian border again to catch the Yellow Head Highway north to Edmonton. Just in time to honor my older brother’s wedding.
From there it was south to my new home and my new job. I signed up, so to speak, at the staff residence by checking in with a friend from my old hotel that I ran into in the parking lot shortly after arriving. It was only a few weeks later that the Staff Housing Office found out that I was “squatted” there. They weren’t happy to say the least.
Settling into my new job was not easy. I didn’t like taking a step back (going back to the busboy). In my last hotel, I was someone. Here I was one of the many busboys and this was not where I wanted to be. Before leaving my last hotel I was told to devote my time and do a good job and “something” would come up. I bided my time only to learn that the low season was coming quickly and that meant very few hours for several weeks until the Christmas rush.
I did what I was told and made the most of it. As they say, showing up is half the job. Another acquaintance from my last hotel saw me in the cafeteria one afternoon after one of my lunch shifts. She asked me how it was. I told her it was slow and then I asked her how things were going for her. She smiled and said she was having fun! Well, I thought that was the end.
Not 10 minutes later, I was emptying my plate in the hallway of the dishes and a girl I didn’t know at all came up to me and said, “Are you David?
– Yes, it’s me, I replied.
She was wearing what I thought was a front office uniform. This is usually how you know what people do in hotels, by the uniform they wear. She introduced herself and asked if I had time to talk. We both had coffee and sat down. She explained that she was the head office cashier and needed new staff as several team members had recently left. Ah, so why me? Well, she said, our mutual friend MJ had called her to tell her about me and she wanted to let me know about the new openings firsthand.
Ten minutes later I was in what we called “staff” at the time filling out a transfer request only to find out that I was not eligible to make the change because I had not finished. my six months.
With this news, I made my way to the lobby where I found my new friend behind the reception desk. I told her about my bad news and thanked her. Maybe in a few months, I say.
“Not so fast,†she said, “didn’t you work in the east before you came here? “
– Yes, I say.
“Stay there and I’ll make a call.” With that, she disappeared and I took a seat, feeling a little watched by the front desk officers, not to mention what my imagination was doing about what the guests thought.
She reappeared after what seemed like an eternity and was smiling a little. She motioned for me to go to the office and explained to me that she was able to get a little exception for me.
The next day, I had my first day of training at the front desk. The work was great. I learned so much and besides I was the only guy in the whole department that winter. I worked there for almost a year when another opportunity presented itself and I was transferred to the F&B Control department.
After a few months, the assistant moved to British Columbia and I was offered her job.
Now things were starting to cook
This job was really the first job where I could show “management” what I was. It was by chance around the same time that the hotel got its first personal computer. It meant a steep learning curve, but it wasn’t about time I had all the green column blocks on Lotus Spreadsheets and what took an hour before now took four minutes.
This is where things paid off. Not only was I at the right time in the right place with the job, but I also had a new boss and his boss liked me. She was a little unusual, but you take what we give you and you make it work.
She’s the one who gave me my own child care meal account.
Service meals in our company are as common as work shifts can be long and meals are often provided after work is completed. But having your own on-call meal account, including your own number, means you have the privilege of going to outlets every time you work.
This means that even before your shift you can have a meal, heck, even on your day off. It’s not just awesome, it’s life changing.
I sat there during the conference breakfast as my mind recalled it all and I remembered this hotel, the dining room, the people, the work, the good times and most of all how I was proud to have stayed with it.
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