Something I Would Say
Charice Pempengco wasn’t on my mind when I welcomed Andrea Bocelli and his partner Veronica Berti into the hotel. When the Italian Tenor was getting off from the water taxi, his fiancèe said he didn’t need help and stepped out holding onto Miss Berti’s hand.
Our Hotel trained us to converse with our arrivals. But that day all I could say was ” Buongiorno Signor Bocelli. I should have mentioned my “pizana”, who sang with him sometime ago.
My colleauge and I brought up the suit cases into their room and Veronica Berti thanked us and got no tip.
That was the first and last time I saw Mr. Bocelli. He stayed inside the suite, room 308, most of the time till the next day for his concert at Piazza San Marco.
During lunch time, the day the singer came, I bragged to my workmates, like it was a big deal, that I brought in the famous tenor. Our female met came in and saw Fabbio, a waiter for breakfast, had filled his plates with so much food. The Met irked by what she saw began bashing Fabbio and his food with words.
“You do not fill your plate with that much food” she lamented, adding that he should also think of the others who will be coming in late to eat. “What if they won’t find any thing more for lunch?” the met ended.
Deeply embarrassed, Fabbio mumbled, “Si va bene.” Lowered his head and ate slowly.
Like the rest of employees in the mess hall, I was shocked by what had happened.
“Fabbio” I blurted out, “Eat all you can eat. The whole world is in economic crisis, children die in poor countries and we throw food like garbage in this hotel. The ones who will be coming in late won’t die of hunger, they can eat at the next turn or the third”.
The met left. The room fell in silence and I was the only one who heard what I said.
Then I heard a voice saying the word “COWARD!” and I heard it loud and clear.
At half past three in the afternoon, I helped a taxi driver unload six heavy luggage off the boat. Then helped our three guests get off too greeting them warmly even though it was burning hot that day and made small talk.
A married couple, maybe past their fifties, and their adult son were from Canada. I figured that out from the maple leaf design on the tags of their bags. The taxi boat was pre paid and the wife handed out a 50 euro bill to the driver as a tip.
“Holy cow, mother mary, what the hell. . . . . a 50 euro tip for a taxi driver! Boy they make more money than the doctors here, have second homes near a beach or in the mountains, have two i-phones on their dash boards and a big tip!” I kept on muttering these words while I was pushing and pulling the heavy bags inside the hotel.
I took care of the bags professionally, brought them in the room and placed them perfectly on the racks. The husband said that his wife was in another other room where their son was and she would give me the tip.
I rushed quickly to the other room on the next floor and met them on the way as they were heading back. After placing the son’s bags in his room, I returned once again to the other room and found the door closed.
Thirty minutes later, putting on my thickest face (like the Ilokano saying: “puskulam ti rupam”), I rang the room once. But no one answered, they must be out on the terrace. I got back to work on the same floor carrying out the laundry and tried to forget all about the tip.
The wife gave me a fright when she came in the stock room and asked for more pillows. I got two normal ones and a pair of feathered pillows. The chamber maid came as I was slipping in the pillow covers and said, “that’s my job”. I told her I was just helping and she thanked me.
I brought them in and laid the head cushions on the sofa and just as I was about to leave I asked, “I’m very sorry Ma’m, I brought up your bags earlier and your husband said you were to give me a tip?”
“Oh, I’m sorry” she said and countinued, ”Ooh, I can’t find my purse.”
She was out of sight for a moment and said something to me. Then she handed out 40 euros. I took them with a wide smile on my face. I said thank you very much and she closed the door.
As I walked through the corridor, I wondered what she meant when she said to me, “That is something you would say.”
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