back when i was a trainee, i sometimes worked in room service.
there was a lady who had been living in the hotel for a few years. she lived by herself, and every morning she had the same breakfast delivered to her room at the same time.
we always made sure nothing was missing. everything had to be perfect, right down to the way we laid it out.
at the beginning, i found it quite intimidating going to her room. she was distant, and our conversations were very short.
“good morning.”
“good morning.”
and that was it. breakfast delivered. conversation finished.
after a few visits, i tried making a little conversation, but her replies were always short. i don’t really remember how or when it changed, but one day she started talking to me and asking things about myself.
then came the wrong jam.
i remember it like it was yesterday. i had delivered her breakfast as usual and gone back downstairs. not long after, we received a phone call.
somehow, i had given her the wrong jam.
of all the things i had checked… apparently, the jam wasn’t one of them.
i brought the right one back to her room, panicking a little. i was sure she was going to be angry.
i apologised.
to my surprise, she smiled about my mistake. no anger. no complaint. my manager was surprised as well.
over time, we got into the habit of chatting for about five minutes whenever i brought her breakfast. she was lonely and enjoyed having a small chat in the morning.
i enjoyed it too. the stories she told me about her life were fascinating, and i often went back downstairs with a smile on my face, thinking about what an interesting life she had.
even if i occasionally forgot something from her order, she never complained about me. of course, i still tried to get everything right, but i wasn’t nervous about going to her room anymore.
instead, i started looking forward to hearing what she would tell me that morning.
when she didn’t order breakfast for a few days, i would get worried and think, “i hope she’s all right.”
somewhere along the way, i had gone from worrying about her breakfast to worrying about her.
looking back, i think those little conversations meant more to her than i understood at the time. they became a lovely part of my mornings too.
and all these years later, i still remember her.
