by Patti & Cathy
From the moment we start school, it seems our lives are constantly interrupted by alarm clocks. We have all, at one time or another, slept through an alarm, or woken frantically to a blinking alarm, or even just plain forgot to set an alarm.
Whatever the case, we don't set alarms for kicks. Most of the time, we set alarms because we need to get yanked out of our sleep for a good reason. How that "yanking" occurs - or whether or not it occurs it all - can set the tone for an entire day.
Cathy:
I've scheduled my share of hotel room wake-up calls in my lifetime, (that sounds way worse than implied) but never did I experience what I did on this recent trip to Aruba. I relied on my cell phone to wake me up for three of the four mornings I was there, but decided that I should use the wake-up service on the morning of my departure as a back-up. You know, in case I overslept and waaaahhhh, waaaahhhh, I was stuck in Aruba.
As I had been doing every morning I was there, I woke up before my alarm was set to go off. Well aware I was about to leave paradise, I was luxuriating in the giant, cloud-like bed, desperately trying to cling to the chillaxed vacation mode I easily cultivated the past few days. As I relished the sun's beams streaming in on my face and the sounds of the waterfall coming from the pool below, the phone RONGED. Not rang, but more of a ringing GONG. (I get that they need to be loud enough to wake the heaviest of lead sleepers, but I always experience a mini heart attack when this happens.)
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| The Gong gone Rong. |
Grumbling at the interruption and cursing at myself for not remembering to cancel the wake-up call, I slid across the fluffiness and picked up the phone. From across the line came the Caribbean accent of a chirpy woman. "Ms. Demetropopoboulos," she stumbled. "This is your seven o'clock..."
Yeah, yeah. I know.
I hung up the phone.
Immediately upon hang-up, it RONGED again.
What the...?
"Hello?"
"This is your seven o'clock wake..."
Click. Yes, I got it.
And then? Then, it RONGED again.
Holy Caribbean Islands, I was being stalked by the wake-up woman.
"HeLLO," I said flatly.
"Ms. Demetropopoboulos," I let her struggle. "Are you aware that this is your wake-up call?" she inquired authoritatively.
Are you aware that I have no choice BUT to wake up since you've called me three times back to back? Who was this lady, my mother?!
"Uh...yes. Yes, I am," I replied, wondering if she was that serious about her job or was this a power struggle at this point. "Thank you for your diligence." Click.
I stared at the phone sideways, ready to pounce on it like a tiger to its prey, if it ronged again. But it didn't. The wake-up lady done did her job and woke my luxuriating ass up. Goodbye, vacation. Hello? Reality. RONG!!!
Patti
I'm going to confess something right here: I have trust issues. Yep, I said it. In the words of Tony Montana, "Who do I trust? ME." It's horrible, I know, but it is what it is. I have just witnessed so much incompetence in my life (NO, I'm not a perfectionist, why do you ask?) that I have kind of learned to not trust people to get the job done right. I'm a suspicious, cynical, side-eye givin' girl, and I know that about myself. WHICH is why it is so very strange that several weeks ago, when I had the luxury of sleeping at the Ritz! Carlton! for several nights by! my! self!, I chose to use the Ritz! Carlton's! wake-up call service to rouse me out of bed my first morning.
I had a meeting "first thing", and the day before had been a long one that consisted of a 6 am airport arrival, bumpy flight, and getting settled in for days of meetings, so needless to say, I was tired, and I knew I was tired, yet, because it was the Ritz! Carlton! I had an innate sense they would not screw it up.
"Good evening, Ms. Pudaydah" greeted the silky voice that probably had to audition for the job as the Ritz! Carlton! wake-up call lady. And no, that is not how you spell my last name, but apparently, my wake-up call lady, much like Cathy's, has trouble pronouncing last names with Latin flare. Mattered not, though; I was just impressed she knew who I was. That alone led me to believe I could certainly trust the Ritz! Carlton! to do their job.
"Yes, I need a wake-up call for 6:30 am, please."
"Why certainly, Ms. Pudaydah. Have a nice night!"
"I will!"
And I did. I attempted to watch a little television, as somehow the same shows that I might watch at home are far more entertaining when watched from a bed laden with 4,000 ergonomic pillows and covered in ten billion count cotton sheets. Ah, Ritz! Carlton! Feeling my eyes grow heavy, I briefly debated setting a back-up alarm on my cell phone, and then decided that the Ritz! Carlton! was all about customer service, and would never in a million years NOT perform a wake-up call as requested. Satisfied, and wrapped in my cozy, fluffy Ritz! Carlton! robe, I soon fell blissfully asleep.
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| These things seep drugs into your pores. |
I hurried through the rest of my "getting ready", annoyed that I had allowed a plush name wrapped in a tricky, sleep-inducing robe to do me in. Apparently, my Ritz! Carlton! had gone wrong instead of RONG!
