I’m a bit of a hippie (You can probably blame my mother for that. She’s your typical liberal, feminist hippie disguised as a housewife). Anyways, I bring this up because I strive to be a person of peace. So much so that I tattooed an olive branch on the back of my neck. I hate confrontation and think that all you need in this world is a little love.
That was until I met mean, ol’ Mrs. Giorgi. She’s this crazy old bird that comes in the spa whose self-appointed mission is to make my life miserable. Ok that’s not entirely true. I don’t think she intends on making me so miserable. She comes to the Waldorf Astoria every couple of months to haggle prices, make unreasonable demands, yell at the staff, use our amenities and in general just loiter in our space. And every time I see her I kinda wanna punch her.
Yep, I said it. I wanna punch an old lady. And now you all know my dirty little secret. Oy.
In all honesty, she is probably just some lonely old woman who doesn’t have anyone to talk to. So she comes to the hotel and we all get to serve as her dysfunctional family members for a few hours. And her visits serve as a reminder to me that despite all my peaceful aspirations, a little bit of rage can be found just beneath the surface.
But don’t worry, I hear NYC is known for really good psychiatrists.