This here is my catch up post since the last few have been short and boring. If not short, definitely boring. Now I have a list of stories to tell you.
The Pound Story- leaving Dublin
I was in the Dublin airport and I wanted to change my euros to pounds. So I went to the desk and asked to change me money to pounds. The lady asked me “what kind?”
“Ummm….. British ones? Please?” I answered. She laughed and said “sterling.” Great. I’m still so confused. I only knew sterling British pounds and the ones that add onto my scale.
Promotional Teddy Bears
This morning I was being shown around the hotel website by my collegue, Damian and one email was advertising teddy bears with company logos on them and screamed the headline “promotional Teddy Bears!!!”
“What do they mean with promotion?” Damian asked. “I don’t get it.”
“Well, suppose you have these bears for sale and a guest buys one for 4 pounds 80 pence.” I began. “That guest goes home to America with their new souvenir and then at thanksgiving they have friends over. The friend picks up the adorable bear and says ‘OMG! Cute bear! Where’s he from?’ And the previous guest says “oh I got him at this great little hotel in Inverkeithing, Scotland last summer.’ And Bam! Next summer you have guests who would have never otherwise known about this hotel. Promotional teddy bears. Boo Yeah.” Damien just stared at me and laughed and said “Thanks for the story.”
That’s Not A Sheet.
I’m a chambermaid.
Not really, I guess, since no one is crapping in a pot and making me empty it into the castle moat. ‘House keeper’ or ‘cleaning girl’ are probably better time appropriate terms to describe my work. Today I was cleaning the departure rooms. Those are the ones whose sleepers have left the hotel. I was remaking beds and and Damien came to the room I was in and started laughing. That sentence sounds creepy but its not how I meant it at all. He pulls the top sheet and asks “Do you know what this is?”
“A European sheet.” I reply. “Lots of places here have the sheets sown together like that.”
“No.” He responds. “This is a duvet cover.”
Cue awkwardness followed by my remaking the beds with actual top sheets.
This one is quick.
They drive on the left here. They walk on the left. Escalators go up on the left. In Canada they go up on the right and so logically you get off the escalator and turn right to avoid colliding with people on your left. Here they make logical left turns. I don’t. Statistics show that 90% of women walk into a store and turn right. Ever since I read that I try to go left. You know, don’t be a statistic an all. Anyway, my apologies to all those people I ran into in front of the escalators today.
The Walkie-Talkie Issue
Remember back when kids didn’t have cell phones and instead they got excited over battery powered Walkie talkies that only worked within 150 feet of each other so you had to hide behind a tree in order to feel cool while talking to your brother across the yard?
I’m not talking about those. My walkie talkie issue is different. I can’t Walkie and talkie at the same time with our causing injury to myself and/or others. Actually, I can’t even really walk and do anything at the same time and my talking is awkward as it is.
Today there were five incidents, FIVE, 5, F. I. V. E., times when I was admiring some beautiful Edinburgh architecture and slam! I walk into a building or a post or a parked car. I almost tripled over a baby carriage today. And I almost knocked over a sculpture in the museum. In stores I often look over my shoulder to say toodles to the cashier and when I look the direction my feet are walking I smash into a strategically arranged stand of magnets and scarves. The dude today was nice enough to say “Don’t worry, that thing needs to be moved. I run into it all the time too.” Yeah right.
My talking. For some reason it’s always too much and either reallyreallyreally fast or I stop in the. Middle of a sentence just. Because and I sound. Like I’m having a really inter. Esting case of asthma.
You would kind of expect the latter style of talking to be accompanied by blank zoned out stares. But I just freeze my expression until I can spit out the next word.
Fortunately, I am about as expressive as Kristin Stewart; there goes my awkward face poses and my acting career.
Unfortunately I somehow adopted a Spanish/ Italian habit of speaking with my hands; when my words stop, my hands stop mid air as well and it’s just like watching a really sad sock puppet show that has a no ticket-refund policy.
Cold. Windy. Expensive. Funny looking taxis.
Goodnight world! All my love, Sarah