Hola Bloggies – No pic. Can’t think of anything appropriate.
I don’t know about being a ‘Perfect Host’ but I owned/managed a guest house on a game farm for four/five years before leaving S.A.
I like people, almost always. They really interest me. It was an also an obligation that our guests enjoyed themselves. I think, I hope, that they mostly did.
I only remember slipping up badly once. The guilt is still with me.
I checked out guests one morning. I had spent a fair amount of time with them the previous evening. In the restaurant. In the pub. We became friends. It’s what I did, (and enjoyed doing it). So, off they went.
And I immediately switched off and onto something else.
Five minutes? No, maybe seven? Sh*t! Maybe three minutes. A face appears at the reception desk. I put on my professional welcoming smile. “Can I help you?” I chirp. No bells ring for me whatsoever.
I look into his eyes and I see he is confused. And hurt. Realisation dawns but the moment is indelible. I fumble, attempt to make amends. But it is too late. I know that he knows he no longer exists for me. My new best friend has returned and I don’t remember him from Adam.
I’m not making excuses. The hospitality industry is what it is.
But I still feel guilty.