My First Hotel Job
High school was ending, and my father encouraged me to find a summer job. I was 15 years old. I took the bus downtown. My journey ended at the Quality Inn. The employment office was located on a lower level. The HR Manager was Marcel. Weighing 300+. Wearing a shiny suit, white shirt, and thin tie, he was sweating profusely. Marcel seemed happy to meet me.
Marcel advised me that there were no jobs available as dishwashers, busboys, bellmen, front desk, or even housekeeping, which he explained was “a job for the ladies.” As I turned away, he asked, “Oh, do you drive?”
Drive? How could any 15-year-old, self-respecting male respond with anything but YES?
“Great,” said Marcel, “We’ll need extra car valet staff for summer. Come back next Friday. Pay is 90 cents/hour + tips.” With that, Marcel went back to his paperwork.
On the bus ride home, I contemplated this opportunity. Recognizing that I had been living on an allowance, the prospect of making $40/wk was exhilarating. The task of learning to drive was somewhat daunting!
Unlike most of my counterparts, our family did not own a car. A friend of mine had an older brother who reached the “age of majority” after obtaining his learner’s permit at 16.
My driving lessons consisted of several trips around a shopping center parking lot. If I was lucky, I had a total of 4 hours: part behind the wheel, part watching my instructor!
On my first day on the job, I was given my uniform: a jacket, a name badge, and a thin tie. Training was nonexistent. But my few hours behind the wheel served me well, and within a day, I was negotiating the garage, backing cars into their parking positions with relative ease.
One of our car jockey pastimes was to accelerate through the garage, then brake aggressively before the next down ramp, trying to see how fast we could go. My colleagues were quite adept at this. Perhaps the fact that I was about 5+ years younger might have had a bearing on this proficiency.
One Friday afternoon, a guest arrived in a magnificent 4-door Chrysler (pictured). While this car had outstanding power from its big V-8, I was soon to learn that its brakes were not up to the task.
As I steered onto the down ramp, I could feel power. Stabbing the gas, the car took off. The surprise came when I jammed the brakes. I met the wall at about 15 MPH. Everyone heard the crash. Marcel was the first to arrive. He demanded to see my driver’s license. When told I did not have one, his mood worsened! Using words in Quebecois whose translations were clear, I was fired.
My short-lived career in the hotel industry was over. I did not renew my love of hospitality until I started at the Inn on the Park Hotel, some 20 years later.
Everyone has their own unique “entry. » Think back to what you’ve learned. Now, determine how you will make this profession better for those just starting. Make their first experience memorable for all the right reasons.
Photo Credit: iStock Different_Brian