UNDERGRADUATE PAGE
Grand Hotel
Ofty D. E. HENN (King's College, Cambridge) LACK or white, Madam ? " I leant slightly forward, milk- and coffee-jugs poised, inwardly rather pleased at having acquired so suitable a tone of voice ; distant and formal without finally discouraging a more personal relation- 'hip; deferential, but with just enough casual undergraduate Insolence to forestall any attempt at a pert rejoinder. The elderly grey-haired lady slumped in an armchair in the main lounge looked up at me sharply. "Black," she barked. " And don't try and pretend to me that you're not a hall-porter." She sniffed.
Why a hotel like this can't get proper staff I shall never know. For sixteen guineas a week one does at least expect people who know their job."
I poured the coffee and backed hurriedly away, grazing a large glass-topped table in my flight. The other guests put away their magazines and stirred• in morbid anticipation. • They were not disappointed. "And bring me a curacao, porter," shouted a voice from deep in the armchair, adding with what sounded (like a sneer, "If you know what that is." Even if this particular form of truculence had been the normal reaction to what must have seemed a slightly discreditable masquerade, none of the three of us who had somewhat hesitatingly attached ourselves to the catering industry for the. summer months would have felt in the least surprised, let alone aggrieved. Impeccably attired in white jacket, black bow-tie and gold-striped trousers, we were seldom able to dislodge that feeling of uneasy self-consciousness normally reserved for bit- players in amateur theatricals ; and the consuming curiosity characteristic of the holiday-making public ensured that our guilty secret soon became common property. " So you're study- ing law," they would giggle, as though this were the most titillating example of ironic paradox. But if some of the residents were amused, others were either frankly incredulous or openly shocked to discover that university students could sink so low ; while not a few utilised this apparently long-awaited opportunity by • button-holing us with interminable anecdotes about "my nephew Alistair who was up at Selwyn in '36—or was it Sidney ? " Fortunately for us these light afflictions were more than counter-balanced by the privilege of observing from an unusual vantage-point the behaviour of that section of the British public which can still afford to stay at a comparatively expensive resort hotel: the mill-owners from Leeds and Bradford, the doctors and dentists from suburban Surrey, the R.A.F. officers, the retired City business-men relaxing after a lifetime's preoccupation with timber or jewellery or tooth-paste. We listened, fascinated, in attitudes of elaborate unconcern while the men execrated the Ministry of Food, the National Health Service and the hotel's chef, bemoaned the incompetence and rapacity of the Labour Government, or spoke with a sudden heartwarming enthusiasm of how splendidly their cars had surmounted Porlock Hill ; and we recoiled in youthful dismay when their wives, unhampered by the strict confines of masculine scruple, either disparaged the appearance and probable origins of their fellow-guests or narrated diverting and detailed accounts of their recent operations. ' In the intervals between trundling laundry-baskets, fetching cars from the garage, cleaning windows and repairing vacuum cleaners, we watched in breathless astonishment the activities of the dynamic or now-that-we're-here-let's-do-something school, who drove bravely off each morning in the murkiest of weather to inspect what they could of the surrounding countryside, as opposed to the static or four-square-meals-a-day group, whose members were content to sprawl untidily in the leorge, occasion- ally dallying with The Times crossword or a Penguin edition of Raymond Chandler, or—more often—just gazing vacantly into ?Pace. But if observing the guests was an absorbing pastime, attempt- ing to tread delicately amid the intricacies of the staff hierarchy was even more so. We soon became aware of One main division: the aristocracy composed of the barman, housekeeper, chefs, receptionists and waiters, as opposed to the rabble, which com- prised a miscellaneous assortment of kitchen- and hall-porters, chambermaids, cleaners, &c. A further classification, following this same pattern with startling exactness, could be made of those who were able to quote an appropriate section of the Catering Wages Act when called upon to perform some task outside the strict limits of ,their statutory duties, as against those who were reluctantly .preared—if one may use a homely phrase—to "muck in." We passed by default into the latter group, and an imprudent amiability, mingled with a natural enough desire to avoid the inevitable friction between professional and amateur, resulted in our being landed with a rather larger percentage of the unpleasant jobs than might otherwise have been our lot.
Feuds, jealousies and violent passions of various kinds were continually present beneath the smooth and slightly contemptuous facade which any hotel staff presents to the public at large. These feuds, which were usually ephemeral, served as a continual subject of conversation, and were greatly enjoyed by all con- cerned. One day a chambermaid would insult the housekeeper, on the next the barman would accuse one of the receptionists of having altered the figures in his account-book, and on the third one of the kitchen-porters would be vowing to disembowel the assistant chef with a carving-knife. Happy days.
None o-f these little contretemps, however, prevented us from succumbing to the main occupational disease of the hotel trade: tips. Even today, when all the rest is but a memory, the magic word can still arouse some deep, elemental feeling. Since, at the height of the "season." the total thus acquired frequently exceeded our weekly wage, this preoccupation is perhaps under- standable. At any rate, we soon developed a previously unsus- pected talent for assessing the potential generosity or otherwise of each new arrival. Honeymooners, existing on a nicely calcu- lated budget, usually proved penurious to a degree, and in consequence were treated with cold disdain by porters and dining-room staff alike. The same was true of college-girls in pairs, despatched to the seaside by solicitous parents to recover from some recent but generally unspecified ordeal—and a dis- proportionate number of these fascinating convalescents arrived at intervals throughout the summer. Most other categories of guests were open-handed in excess of our most acquisitive expectations.
Whether we were collectively successful in a type of employ- ment that inevitably differs in some respects from the normal round of academic routine is not altogether easy to judge. In view of the quiet desperation with which the managers of most seasonal hotels contemplate their chronic staff shortages, the mere fact that we were retained until the end of the summer is hardly evidence One way or the other. Personal 'qualifications apart, the present arrangement of university terms would suggest that students were the ideal candidates for a type of job which is semi-skilled, highly paid and necessarily temporary. But even recruiting an adequate staff would not solve all the problems which beset a resort hotel—particularly one of the more isolated ones. The kind of holiday which people enjoy and can afford has changed since the war. Of course, this year was particular/Y bad," the manager told me, "what with the Festival and a wet August. But nowadays everyone wants an active holiday—sail- ing, golf, long white beaches on the doorstep, with theatres and dance-halls to go to in the evenings." He smiled wryly. "People aren't interested any more in going for walks on the moor or ill just sitting around and taking it easy."
Not much they aren't. At the end of the summer, exhausted by three months' toil. I retired to a near-by hotel and spent five ecstatic days sitting in the lounge alternately dallying with The Times crossword and gazing vacantly into space. But whet exactly that proves I haven't the least idea.
Previous page
