The Story So Far ...

We said farewell to our work friends at the RSPCA and BBC on 14 September, farewell to our families on 3 October, and set off for Africa to save cheetahs, decorate school buildings, and look around a bit. After a trip home for Christmas, we headed for South East Asia on 6 January -- where we were stunned by Qatar and Cambodia, taught novice monks in Laos, and acted as security guards at an Elephant Festival. It was back home for four weeks to look after John's dad, before we tangoed our way through five South American countries in fifteen days. We then snooped our way through New Zealand, dipped our toes into Fiji, drove-thru California and were home from home with family in Vancouver.

Now, we are home itself. Fulfilled, happy, and ready to earn the respect of our friends and family by knuckling down and earning some money once again ...

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Trouble in Paradise

You get what you pay for

Below is the gist of a conversation I had at about 7pm yesterday with the manager of the Paradise Motel in Santa Cruz.  (On a wet day -- and this day was wet -- Santa Cruz is California's answer to Margate.)  The words are not verbatim, of course, and there were some language difficulties, but I promise that I have not made a single detail up.

Scene:  I stand with manager in the bathroom of our $55 room.

John:  "So you see, there is no plug for the bath.  And we want to have baths this evening, to relax after our long drive.  We specifically asked you for a room with a bath for that reason.  Can you not find us a plug?"
Manager:  "But your room does have bath!"
Pause
J:  "Yes, it does have a bath, but we cannot relax in the bath because there is no plug to keep the water in."
M:  "You could lie in bath and let water from shower spray over you."
(J rendered speechless)
M:  "You should have checked for plug first.  I gave you key to room to inspect it before you checked in; you should have made sure there was plug."
Pause
J:  "I'm sorry?  That's like saying we should have checked the tv worked, or the wi-fi you promised us ...
M:  What?  You say tv not work either? ..."

By now I had realised that further debate on the point was futile.  Henry joined in, insisting the manager found us a room with both a bath and a plug.  The manager then led me to the neighbouring room, but it, alas, had no plug.  We went next door again.  None of his baths, it seems, had plugs.  The tension level had now been reached, we concluded, where relaxation in a bath would be impossible.   I marched back to our room, and he marched back to his office.

Two minutes later, Henry smilingly handed me a pair of socks, bundled into a sort of bung.  It blocked the plughole perfectly.  And as I soaked in the steaming water, it struck me that sometimes, just sometimes, it's worth thinking your way out of a problem before picking a fight over it.

John

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