I knew the day would come when I’d have to face writing this page. During the early summer of 2012, the hotel transferred ownership. As it turned out, it had been suffering from a terminal illness, for which the only cure required cleaving this hotel in the chain in order to save the remaining body. Before its demise, the quality of services had begun to decline, and no you do not want me to describe the many ways that low-paid workers can gain retribution on their employer via their  guests. 

The hotel was purchased by another corporation whose existing portfolio contained lower grades
of hotels. Changes were to be expected, but. . . Beware of new employers who stride in bearing balloons. This usually speaks to their being full of hot air. The pie in the sky promises they made to employees never came to fruition. For the few employees who remained after the first owners, the rest either quit, or were waiting to quit. Employers can sometimes forget that the success of any
venture depends on the employees who are the backbone of their business. Alienate them, and your goose is cooked. 

And, speaking of cooking, the fire Marshall immediately closed down the kitchen because it  wasn’t vented. I found it strange it took three years for someone to determine that. Until late November, guests had been forced to do without the favorite small, hot meals for breakfast, as well as food ordered at the bar. The cooks did the best they could without being able to “cook,” but it was frustrating all around. The owners apparently had their own priorities for where to place their
money, or not. I was daily grossed out by the nasty green cloth mops the housekeepers were given to wash the floors. They started on the shower floor first, and then extended the “cleaning” to the rest of the bathroom floor. Not only were they using the same mop in each room, but nasty germs and hair were being transferred from room to room. I took a clean cloth and wiped it on my own
shower floor one day and took the black results to the new G.M., an inexperienced, fourteen-year old looking male, asking that he show it to the owners. Surely, a disposable solution was in order. The owners replaced the green mops with black ones so the dirt didn’t show. 

There was a constant turnover of housekeepers, leaving the hotel with only one or two girls who could be counted on to do a trustworthy job. Housekeepers were left to train each other, which meant that the girls who had no business cleaning rooms, were the ones helping to train the new ones. The smartest thing the owners did was to initiate a “green” plan whereby, if you didn’t request service each day, you received points. I had been cleaning my own room for awhile, so at least this afforded me the ability to receive points for my efforts.  

Except for two employees, none of the personnel I began my stay with at the hotel remained.
Confidante took an Assistant G.M. job at another hotel. Squid had left earlier for a better job and became a proud papa in September. It no longer felt like home to me, and most of the time I kept to my room working on a video for THE HOUR TO REAP. (By the way, it was posted to YouTube: http://youtu.be/2AmuYInCeec. Check it out.) The only odd thing to happen in months was a phone call to my cell phone by a guest who wanted to book another night at the same rate. I told them I’d be happy to do it, but I didn’t work there. He must have picked up my card at the desk. This was the pathetic extent of the available fodder for material to put in the blog.

 As you have probably guessed, I am no longer at the hotel. I did return for a two-night stay  during the Thanksgiving holiday. After just one night, I knew I no longer belonged there. I cancelled the second night and never looked back. 

For two and a half years, it had been like home. I made a lot of friends, had a book published and worked on another. In my blog, you all have been privy to some of the funny, often unbelievable, insider experiences that occurred there. But, all good things eventually come to an end. I’m working on the next chapter in my life now. I’m writing the sequel to THE HOUR TO REAP, as well as working on a satire. I’m also editing for other writers. I haven’t decided what kind of a blog I will segue into next, but I will connect it to this one when it’s time. 
                 
Thank you all for reading my blog over the past two years, and for the encouraging comments. Until we meet again . . . 

I'm  glad that so many of you enjoy this blog and take the time to let me know. I do appreciate hearing from you. 

Guests had an exhilarating morning today as we awoke to no hot water. It seems both boilers had different, but simultaneous excuses as to why they couldn’t function, and decided to quit at their leisure.  My take on the whole situation is the team of gerbils just got too hot and tired of running on the belt that ran the motor. Of course the only person who could fix the boilers had to come from New Zealand and wouldn’t arrive ‘til late afternoon.  

Viacom and Direct TV’s little spat over fees has put a dent in what limited programming choices we have at the hotel. Why don’t they cut costs by eliminating all but one of the nine sports channels, not showing reality shows that reflect the TV programmer’s lives, cutting out any show that encourages eating otherwise indigestible foods generally not created for human consumption, and finally, get rid of all politically motivated programming.

And, while we’re on the subject of money, the best solution to the global financial crisis is not to forgo the Euro or further tighten austerity measures, nor is it a good idea for more stimulus packages. Why don’t they just recognize the problem for what it is: unbridled greed? All they have to do is roll back the prices on everything to what they were fifty years ago. After that everyone forgives each other’s debts both globally and nationally. Isn’t that what the Lord’s Prayer says to do? You don’t have to be Christian for that to make sense.

Today is the 43rd anniversary of the Apollo 11 launch. To mark that historic occasion, my large pet water turtle, named Hannigan, was allowed to watch it on TV while I held him up to see it. He seemed at a loss for words-- kept spellbound during the entire lift-off. Although I’m sure he was the only turtle in the world observing the event, he never made it into the Guinness Book of Records. He died heartbroken.

Speaking of heartbroken, no one was when Confidante (who you will remember was promoted to Director of Housekeeping) decided to get rid of the ugly beige  prison garb worn by the housekeeping staff at the hotel. No one will own up to why the original butt ugly uniforms were chosen. They have now been replaced by attractive black polo shirts with the hotel’s emblem on them, and everyone looks like a respectable human being.

The 411 guest has been a little delinquent posting her blog. Where has she been? I know y’all  are wondering if I’d lost interest in my own blog because it’s been two, TWO, whole months since I last posted. Meanwhile, I’ve been getting comments saying how much readers have enjoyed my posts; please don’t stop. Not even I can believe it’s been two months. So, here’s the skinny on my absence. It's been a very productive absence, and I almost don’t know where to start.

For those of you who remember me mentioning that I had written a thriller, well it’s been published. I should be doing some shameless self-promotion here, but I’ll get around to that shortly. Writing the book was a joy. It was what came after its publication that almost sent me hurtling over the edge. I’ve had to learn how to do a lot of technical things I’ve never had an interest in doing before because I couldn’t afford to pay someone else to do them for me. You know what they say, Necessity is a real “mother.” Much of my day now keeps me occupied with the business end of publishing.

My first trial came with the conversion of my book into e book formats. I spent weeks formatting and un-formatting the texts due to the lack of specific directions. Sometimes you can almost know too much and it hampers you. Formatting manuscripts for print publishing is very different from digital.  DO NOT let anyone tell you e book conversion is an easy process. They just want to
show off and convince you to hire them when you can’t do it yourself. Barnes and  Noble’s PubIt, and Amazon’s kindle require different html formats. Oh sure they post guidelines on their websites, but there is so much they don’t tell you that would make the process less stressful. You are forced to go online to Google for help from others who’ve already done it. Unfortunately, you get a lot of
misleading and contradictory information. I’m going to give a big tip to anyone out there thinking of doing an e book conversion: take your text file from your book’s manuscript that you used for the print version and remove ALL formatting by putting it in your notepad. Then convert it back to Word. This way you start off with a clean slate to format it the way it needs to be for whatever e book you’re converting to.  Once I figured that out, I was good to go. But by then, I had significantly pulled out most of my hair.

Authors are now expected to do their own marketing for their books. This is a full-time job.
I should have been marketing the book as I was still writing it-- so much for twenty-twenty hindsight. I was writing full-time and writing the blog. Multi-tasking only goes so far. I needed multi-bodies. Did I mention I started my own company through all this? 

And, there’s the little matter of how things have changed here at the hotel. The staff seems to turn over every two months. I’ve already told you Confidante has moved on to management. The face and personality of the front desk (his) is gone. No one hangs out there anymore. There is only one person left at the front desk that has been here since I first arrived. I am rarely downstairs anymore, which is where I pick up most of my material. That’s only half true. I still have the loud speaker wall  which provides me with enough of other people's dirty laundry to air. Just last week, I had the misfortune of sharing the ‘air space’ with a crazy, drunken, blonde bimbo who proceeded to shout obscenities into her cell phone during the wee hours of the morning and also at the man and woman she picked up for a ménage a trois. The hotel didn’t tolerate her, either.  

What I mean to say is I’ve been a little overwhelmed; too many things to do and not enough time. I even stopped exercising in the morning (huge mistake) in order to pick up two more productive hours to my day. Can you believe how fast your body turns to mush when you stop working out? I went into the gym to weigh myself last week (another huge mistake), and in a loud chorus, the machines all sang, “Baby come back.” I only had the time to make it there two days. Do you remember when I used to work out two hours, six days a week? Seems like another lifetime.

Was all the sweat and long hours worth it? Absolutely! THE HOUR TO REAP: A Harper Simone Mystery Novel is out in both paperback and e book. What’s it about? Embezzling a hotel, of course! What started as an inside job grew into so much more. And, while you’re asking-- Who’s behind the murders of three young women? A real-life Mexican cartel in Richmond, Virginia … you
have no idea. And, for those of you looking for a titillating love story, there’s some of that too. You’ll be looking forward to the sequel. You can take a look inside the book at Amazon until I figure out a way to post a sample chapter on my Author Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/PJWoods,novelist.   Yes, you noticed correctly. I publish under P.J. Woods. I bet not even you remember my last name, let alone can pronounce it. (hint: Concodora) If you’ve enjoyed following me on this blog I hope you will buy my book. Better yet, buy a few and give them as gifts. Living in this hotel to research and write the book has cost me a small fortune. You know, I could use all the financial support I can get!

So, this is where I’ve been for the last two months. I could use a little help with marketing the book so I have the time to write the sequel and keep up with this blog. I’d appreciate your help in spreading the word to your friends, family, and co-workers. If you enjoyed reading the book please post a review or comment at the site where you purchased it. Share it on Facebook. Tweet it. 

And, to all my followers: Thanks for your loyalty and patience!

I had the opportunity to get out of Dodge this weekend, so here I am in northern Virginia
babysitting my grand dog. In spite of the on again, off again showers I’ve managed to spend the vast majority of the past few days outside. Thank God for screened-in porches. I got to eat all my meals, worked, and read outside. Now this is living. The only thing I couldn’t do was walk barefoot in the grass. There is no grass: yet. Another thing I haven’t been able to do in a long time is sleep with the windows open. I guess the hotel is afraid someone will jump, or else dump something nasty on passersby because our windows don’t open. I can understand. I’ve thought about doing that myself. I consider it every time the drunken motorcycle dorks who frequent the bar below us decide to rev their engines under my window. 

My grand dog has a wicked sense of humor. She’s used to getting a 45 minute walk at night. The first night I took her by myself she decided to change course on me from the
one her mother used the night before. I have no idea where I am. I’m running  behind her yelling, “I hope you know where you’re going, because I don’t.” She’s looking back at me and I swear she said,“Grandma, try to keep up will you.” The route she chose was mostly uphill. This after a full meal; mine. The way back had to be downhill, I thought. Yup, and steep. She took it at a full clip too. The next morning I could barely walk; my hips hurt so
bad.

Another thing I got to do this weekend was cook. Boy, have I missed cooking for myself living in a hotel. Trouble was, I was in someone else’s home with a larder that wasn’t mine. If you can believe it, everything in my daughter’s house is fat free. (Except for the
leftover pieces of cheese and pepperoni pizza I found in the fridge.) They’re both disciplined runners. I guess the pizza was for carbing up.

I’ve also enjoyed using the ceiling fan in my room, letting it strafe my body with gentle
breezes while I sleep.  My body has been long overdue for a good strafing. 

With so many trees surrounding the house and neighborhood there are birds aplenty singing and chirping away. I never realized some birds sing all night. Oh, happy day. I’m
really gonna miss this place when I have to leave in the morning to go back to Richmond. 

This is such a vast improvement over the previous weekend at the hotel. Last Thursday
afternoon a couple checked in and immediately started to… you know. They apparently didn’t realize how thin the walls are. Usually it’s the woman I hear moaning. This time it was the man. And, he was loud. From the quality of his moans, I’d say he’d had a dry spell for quite some time. I named him Moaning Monty. For three days and nights all they did was f—k and sneeze. It was the strangest thing. Can you imagine finding out you’re allergic to each other? They never left the bed. We don’t have room service, either. I even predicted correctly that they would call down to the front desk and ask for a late check
out. They did it right up to the last fifteen minutes. Since I knew when they were leaving, I just had to see what they looked like: very relaxed.

You just never know what the Universe has cooked up for you. I had the pleasure of
meeting a real French Master Chef and one of his former culinary students. They are now in business together. The two had such great stories to tell. I’ve always wanted a man who enjoyed cooking. We’d be a perfect match because I enjoy eating.

Well, Confidante has been promoted a second time. He really earned it too. This time he’s moved into management, which is what he does best. Who knows, next month he may be the Assistant General Manager. Good job!

Along with the pollen, love is definitely in the air this spring. Apparently so is sex. The
President’s Secret Service’s advance team for his visit to Columbia scheduled a little extracurricular activity before the boss arrived. They claim they didn’t know the girls were prostitutes when they arranged for them to gather at the hotel where they had arranged accommodations for thirty. Really? The public has been assured their indiscretions did not present a national security risk by revealing any government secrets during pillow talk, nor was there a risk of terrorism (unless you count when their wives found out). About the only thing the prostitutes walked away with were the agents’ jobs and reputations.

The Chef here is promoting his own spring love fest by setting up a Speed Dating night in the lobby/bar. I guess it's sort of like musical chairs. I hope it turns out better than the commercial. No, I will not be attending, but I would like to be a fly on the wall. Based on previous attendance for social functions, I wonder if it’ll be attracting the usual 20 something crowd… and one ‘hoping to get lucky’,geezer. The Chef’s other plan to increase business involves a girl’s night out. In case things get too hot, the hotel’s booked a firemen’s convention.

We’re supposed to broaden our horizons for new food flavors now. Someone has created
peanut butter and jelly vodka. Then there’s BLT potato chips, and the quintessential bacon milkshake. Are you noticing the food groups targeted here? If you ask me, it’s just another market ploy to keep Americans eating unhealthy and staying fat. Okay, here’s my contribution: avocado ice cream, winter squash bagels, and shrimp scampi cookies. 

Yesterday, ONTORICHMOND.COM took out a full page ad in the newspaper announcing that the U.S. Navy had made its first and last attempt to take Richmond by water,
(otherwise known as the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff). The bloody battle lasted a week with Union forces failing to take the Confederate Capital. It’s been a hundred and fifty years for God’s sake; let it go. You still lost. Get over it.

I must be a magnet for men behaving badly this week, either that, or someone in the room
over me suffers from testosterone poisoning. This guest frequently requests the same room because he likes to be on the highest floor. I always know when he’s back because he uses something to exercise with in his room that makes a duh-da-da-dah dropping sound. At any given hour the sound is annoying, but when he starts exercising late at night or very early in the morning when I’m asleep, I find it rude, inconsiderate and thoughtless. I might understand if he claimed ignorance that his exercise regimen was loud enough to be heard in other rooms. But, after being told several times by the hotel that he was annoying other guests and then to continue doing it out of spite, well that just speaks to an immature and elitist attitude that all too frequently is the result of an
over-indulged ego fostered by corporate perks. Why is it considered politically incorrect to expect consideration from other people today? When did it become acceptable for everyone to make up their own rules? He can use the gym like everyone else. Better yet, ask to be on a floor where no one is under you. 

I read with interest today an article in the paper about quiet cars on commuter trains
becoming more and more available. It seems passengers forced to listen to the racket caused by too many people using their cell phones have finally said, “Enough”! No one wants to listen to someone’s one-sided conversation, especially when you’re tired and just want to ride in peace and quiet. That’s how it used to be. Remember? You looked forward to a guaranteed oasis from the stresses of the day by unwinding on the trip. It’s no wonder why attention deficit disorder is increasing. Who can focus on anything when you’re constantly being bombarded with conversations and general noise coming at you from every direction? It’s probably altered our brain waves. The article went on to say that all you hear is “shhh” in these commuter quiet cars. People are working on their laptops or reading and don’t take kindly to people who don’t follow the rules. Sometimes a conductor has to step in. For those people who still require constant stimulation, they continue to provide regular cars where you can all drive each other nuts. The sad thing is the people who need the presence of four other talkers around them to communicate with as they work actually believe they’re in the majority. Guess again. The world does not revolve around you. 

Speaking of communications, are you aware that legislation is being passed, or in
consideration of being passed in various states, to allow phone companies to stop servicing land lines? The phone company lobbyists are spreading their money and influence during an election year to convince legislators that if they could just stop servicing those pesky little land lines, saying they could invest more into technologies that customers are demanding. What they don’t admit to is that they've already been investing in new technologies, and that the rest of the population is not demanding anything. They’re happy with their phone service, or else they can’t afford a wireless service with costly bells and whistles. There are currently only about a third of all households in the U.S. that are wireless. You’d have to be unconscious to not realize that of course phone companies want the other two thirds of the population to buy wireless phones because then they’d make even more money by forcing a constant change of phone technology on consumers. And, we’d have even more noisy and intrusive conversations going on around us to contend with. Just think how many more car accidents we can look forward to when the entire culture is wireless. What do they expect rural customers to do, or grandma and grandpa who can’t physically use a cell phone? I wonder how many new models of cell phones come out each month. There is no end in sight, but at some point consumers are going to be in so much debt trying to keep up with technology that they’re going to say, “Enough!”

I have not forgotten you. I've been sequestered in my room, because things here have been sort of… dead. I don’t mean we have no guests; hardly. We stay full most of the time. I’m referring to the companionship I formerly enjoyed from those who work here. Some employees have moved on finding better paying jobs elsewhere.  Even though Confidante was promoted, his schedule has changed. Gone are the days when we’d alternate beating the socks off each other. I can’t even remember the last time I played pool, let alone beat him... at pool, that is. But alas, I digress.

Now that I think of it, there’s been a lot going on at the hotel lately. Unfortunately, it’s all happening outside, under my window. Construction activity gets started at 6:30-7 a.m. for the remaining retail spaces due to open this spring. The fact that there are actually people
who pay to sleep in a hotel doesn’t appear to be relevant. Tearing up the sidewalk with jack-hammers is a little much at that hour of the morning, if you ask me. Which no one has, but that’s beside the point. I’m sure whoever invented that utterly annoying alarm on trucks that beeps incessantly, had not intended it be used below a hotel early in the morning when there clearly is no one around whose presence might signal the need to use it. The loud clap from lumber being thrown onto the sidewalk from a truck at 6:20 a.m. apparently does not count as beginning work before 7 a.m., either. Are you kidding me? The deal was no work before 8 a.m., and even that was a concession. The hotel asked for work not to begin before 9. 
                 
For those of you who don’t already know, I’m getting close to publishing my novel. It’s a mystery/thriller called The Hour to Reap. I’ve been busy starting a publishing company and all the paperwork and legal mumbo jumbo that goes along with that. It’s been frustrating. I am still calm; bald, but calm.  I am thankful that one of my friends took pity on me and offered to help with the graphics for the bookcover. Thank God, or I would have been up the creek. I will keep you posted when it hits the shelves; hopefully in the next few weeks.

Thank God I still have the media to provide me with fodder for material. I read an article
stating that pregnancy increased a woman’s risk for heart attack. They didn’t say whether this was before or after they unexpectedly found out they were pregnant. I have refused to follow the GOP’s nomination for a candidate in this year’s election debacle. They have all made such asses of themselves they run the risk of being confused with the democrats’ mascot. 

Just when I think I’ve got nothing worthy of my reader’s attention, I am gifted with a truly
interesting weekend at the hotel. I know folks are going to wonder if I got any of the murderous ideas for my book after living in a hotel for two years. (You’ll just have to wait until you read it.) Anyway, we still have the usual loud, one-nighters if you catch my drift, of which I’ve become bored with paying any attention to. But, having someone deliberately flood a room with water sort of tops two years worth of some pretty unbelievable stuff. Magazines were placed in a sink and the water left on. Needless to say, the damage made it down three flights. By an act of grace, my room which was next to its path was spared. This is considered a misdemeanor in case it gives any more morons an idea of their
own. What kind of stupid do you have to be to act this way? Just be thankful I don’t own this hotel.

To round off my weekend, I was once again reminded of the complete lack of responsibility assumed for one’s children that is exhibited by far too many parents who stay here. I tried to save a four year old child from cracking his jaw open by gently removing a cue stick from between his legs which he was riding like a hobby horse through the lobby and up the stairs. His father was occupied at the bar not moving a muscle to discipline or watch his kids, which I might add, continued even after the bartender's multiple requests to remove them froman area where no one under 21 was allowed. I guess some people make up their own rules. Instead of thanking me for my quick intervention, he later cornered me unexpectedly announcing he was waiting for the appropriate time to get me. Literally poking his finger in my face, he told me to never discipline his kid again. Have another drink, asshole.