‘At two.’
‘Well, you tell him that I’ll be back at two! This is an appalling way to treat your customers!’
The group are shaking their heads. I can hear one of them say, ‘I warned you, John. It’s bloody hard work. I was treated just the same yesterday when Karen slipped on the floor…’
I decide to defer my room enquiry and let them deal with the guests who need checking in. I’ll come back at two o’clock for Part 2 of the shuttle-bus saga. That should be interesting.
I decide to have some lunch in the meantime. There are four restaurants to choose from. I don’t want a huge meal so that rules out two of the restaurants straight away. I go outside in the direction of the pool, in pursuit of the pool bar. It seems rather quiet people-wise, but not noise-wise. There’s some music blaring out, which isn’t at all suitable. There are no staff members in sight and just one couple sitting at a table. I take a seat myself and wait … and wait … and wait. I glance round at the couple to see if they’ve even got a drink. They haven’t, so I decide to go and find a staff member myself.
It doesn’t take me long to find someone who doesn’t seem to be doing an awful lot. ‘Excuse me, is anyone serving at the pool bar? I’m wanting a drink and something to eat.’
‘You can eat there if you want, but most people go to the restaurant near the beach. It’s all the same menu.’ He points me in the direction I should go. I’m not going to argue. I set off in hot pursuit of this other restaurant, which will hopefully include some staff able to serve me.
When I get there, I see that it looks like an authentic Greek taverna and there are people actually eating, which is a start. I wait a while. Eventually, a young waitress, whose name badge says ‘Natassia’, approaches me.
‘Table for one, madam?’ she asks, looking at me and then around the restaurant to see where she might seat me.
‘Yes, please,’ I reply.
‘Follow me, please,’ she says, not sounding like she’s enjoying any part of her day. She sits me down, hands me a menu and disappears. No offer of a drink, no option of smoking or non-smoking and no mention of any menu specials. After five minutes, I’ve studied the menu and I’m ready to order some food. A drink would be nice as well. I discreetly try to catch someone’s attention for the next five minutes. Then I resort to waving and saying in quite a loud voice, ‘Excuse me!’
Natassia saunters over and opens her note pad. I ask her about specials, to which she says she’ll go and find out. I fear she will go and never return so I hastily say it doesn’t matter. I order a spanakopita, a Greek spinach pie. I also order a Mint Collins off the cocktail list. It’s a working holiday, after all. It’s quite apt as well, with my surname being Collins, and I love trying cocktails.
While I wait, I decide to do a little recce to the loos. I’ve brought along this clever machine that measures how clean things are. A few recent reviews have mentioned that the cleaning isn’t up to standard here so this will be a good opportunity to try it out.
I retrieve the machine from my bag and get out one of the swabs that looks like a cotton bud. I rub it on the toilet door handle and then replace the swab in its tube. It feels like I’m on a top-secret mission. I have to now inject an enzyme into the tube, gently shake it, remove it and put it in the machine. Then I have to wait for fifteen seconds. Any reading up to a thousand is acceptable.
The machine whirs into action just as a woman comes into the toilets. ‘Are you waiting?’ she asks politely.
‘Oh no, sorry, don’t mind me. I’m just doing some cleanliness testing.’
‘Really?’ she laughs. ‘Now this I must see, because this is surely one of the dirtiest hotels I’ve ever had the misfortune to stay in.’
We watch the machine together. It reaches one thousand in no time. It bleeps at every thousand mark and carries on and on and on, furiously bleeping away. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, six thousand, seven thousand, eight thousand, nine thousand, ten thousand. And then ten thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two. It finally stops and flashes an alert in red. In other words, you’re taking your life into your own hands by using these facilities. Not even in airport toilets did it go much past the one thousand mark.
‘So, what does your machine tell you?’ she asks, already knowing the answer.
‘It says, “Houston, I think we have a problem.” It’s not good. I’m Helen, by the way, from Loving Luxury Travel. I’m doing our annual inspection.’
‘Well, I never. We booked through your company and spoke to a lovely guy called James. We told him it was our wedding anniversary and that we wanted it to be special.’
My stomach churns again. He’s already got a lot to answer for, and now he’s apparently helped wreck this poor couple’s anniversary.
‘I’m Janette, by the way. Me and my other half have never seen anything like it. I’ve complained about our room twice. It’s filthy. They seem to have a different idea of “clean” than I do. You can come and look if you like.’
After this experience with the loos, I don’t doubt what she’s saying. ‘I’ll tell you what. You write down your names and your room number on the back of my card and I’ll get it sorted out.’
‘Oh, thank you, Helen, we’d really appreciate it. But, to be honest, I think anything you say will fall on deaf ears.’
‘Well, I’ll try my best.’
I return to the restaurant and get my phone out to text Steph. My plan to spend the afternoon by the pool has evaporated along with my appetite. My Mint Collins has arrived so I have a sip… It’s definitely minty; in fact, it would make a good mouth wash. Note to self: if ever on a night out and needing a breath freshener, order a Mint Collins.
Natassia appears shortly afterwards armed with my spinach pie and a little dish of mixed olives. She offers me some black pepper, which I accept. Off she goes to collect the biggest pepper mill I’ve ever seen in my life. I laugh to myself. She has to stand quite a way back to grind the huge monstrosity over the food. I’ve never been anywhere in Greece, so it’s a whole new experience for me. At least the food tastes good. I even enjoy the olives, which I didn’t think I liked.
I finish my food and decide to email Daniel about arranging an emergency meeting this afternoon with whoever’s in charge here. If we schedule it for three o’clock, that will give me just over an hour to inspect a room and have a stroll round.
I have another battle to get someone’s attention for the bill. I just leave some money when it finally arrives. I really can’t be bothered waiting to pay on my card while they mess about getting the card machine. I need to get on and attempt to check in. As I’m leaving I can hear a couple complaining that their food is lukewarm. Natassia is dealing with the complaint but not particularly well, by the sounds of it.
I go back to the reception. Thankfully, it seems a bit calmer so I walk up to the desk. There’s someone different on the desk this time. His name badge says ‘Giannis’, and he looks keen and ready to help.
‘Hi, I’d like a room for the night,’ I say.
‘Okay, let me check our room availability. Is it just…’ We’re interrupted by the phone. ‘Sorry, please excuse me for one minute.’ He picks up the phone, rattles off something in Greek and seemingly tries to put the call through somewhere else. But no one answers. He resumes the call himself and spiels something else off. Then he ends the call and turns his attention back to me. ‘I apologise. So, a room for tonight. Is it just for you?’
‘Yes, just me. I’m stopping in Mykonos for a couple of days and my sister recommended this place.’
‘Really? Does your sister—’
He’s stopped in mid flow again but this time the interruption comes from a colleague who appears from the office behind him. I glance at his name badge and notice the word ‘Manager’ under his name. This is who I’m probably meeting at three. I can har
dly wait. I wonder if Giannis was just about to say ‘Really? Does your sister not like you very much?’
He answers the rather rude manager and starts again. ‘You mentioned your sister. Has she visited the hotel recently?’
I feel guilty now and wish that I hadn’t mentioned this fictitious visit. ‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ I answer vaguely so that we can move the conversation along and get me out of the hole that I’ve started digging.
‘OK, we have this lovely—’
It’s two o’clock and the shuttle-bus man from earlier is back. He’s ringing the bell on the desk quite insistently. Our conversation is cut short again as we can’t talk above the noise.
‘Please excuse me for a moment,’ says Giannis. He calmly walks over to the man. ‘Yes, sir, how can I help?’
‘I want to see the person in charge of this shambolic place that you call a hotel – immediately!’
I feel sorry for Giannis as he tries to pacify the angry man. Only the person in charge will do. Giannis disappears from sight to where I assume the manager is hiding. After a couple of minutes, he returns and tells the man that the manager is on his way.
‘He’d better be,’ is the reply. Quite frankly, even I’m scared.
Giannis comes back to me. ‘I am very sorry about all the interruptions. This is your key card. Take the lift, which is down the corridor, and your room will be on the second floor. Turn right after you leave the lift. Do you need any help with luggage?’
‘No, I’m fine, I only have this. I would like the Wi-Fi password, though.’
‘Just log on to our site and use your surname and room number. There is Wi-Fi connection only in the reception and bar.’
‘And it’s rubbish, like everything else in this godforsaken place,’ adds the man. He’s still waiting.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ I reply, just as the manager finally appears.
This is a brilliant opportunity to watch his interaction. I devise an excuse so that I can hang about. ‘I’ll take a seat over there and sort out my emails,’ I say to Giannis.
‘Enjoy your stay, Miss Collins.’
Well, Giannis can certainly demonstrate good customer-service skills. Let’s see how his manager does.
‘Oh, so you do exist! I’m so glad you’ve given me some of your valuable time.’
‘Of course I exist, Mr er…’
‘Jenkins!’
‘Yes, I apologise, Mr Jenkins. We do have many guests. My receptionist tells me you have a complaint about the shuttle bus.’
‘Yes, indeed, the shuttle bus. This timetable says the last bus back from town leaves at ten thirty.’
‘No, you are wrong, Mr Jenkins. The last bus back from town is at ten o’clock. That time is when it arrives here.’
‘Yes, that’s all well and good now but this information is misleading.’
‘Well, it is looking very clear to me, Mr Jenkins.’
‘Really? I didn’t catch your name…’
‘Michalis Pallis.’
‘Well, Mr Pallis, there were eight of us waiting for that bus and we all thought the last bus was at ten thirty. So, it didn’t look clear to us. Your driver left us stranded in town and he was very rude to us.’
‘Well, you would not have been stranded. There are taxis and the bus service.’
‘Mr Pallis, the last bus leaves at ten! We resorted to getting two taxis.’
‘So, it is as I said, the problem is solved.’
‘No, the problem isn’t solved. There are eight of us who are now out of pocket. This information needs to be clearer.’
‘Very well, Mr Jenkins, I will see to it that the information is made clearer and I will speak to the driver. I am very sorry you are out of pocket but there is nothing I can do about it.’
‘Right, well, we’ll see about that. I want the name and address of someone with whom I can take this further.’
‘Very well. Here is a name and address. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr Jenkins.’
Michalis retreats to his office and Mr Jenkins stomps off huffing and cursing under his breath. I pack up my laptop and finally go to find my room.
When I get there, I find the key card doesn’t work. I try it a few times with no luck. ‘For crying out loud!’ I shout in frustration.
An elderly woman who is cleaning the room opposite mine hears me and lets me in to my room. She shakes her head, muttering, ‘This happen all the time.’
At last, I’m in my room. It’s mediocre but I don’t need my machine to measure how clean it is. I can see with my own eyes the dust on top of the headboard, and the scene under the bed is just gross. There’s at least one dead fly in among the dust and God knows what else. Unbelievably, there’s also a condom packet. I pick it up as evidence. It’s ribbed and dotted for maximum pleasure.
I resort to taking photos of the substandard cleaning. The bathroom reveals one of my biggest pet hates – hair in the shower plughole. I’m not touching it; it’s disgusting beyond words. I just take a photo as proof. I type up my report and leave the room for my meeting.
Giannis is slightly confused when I arrive back at his desk for a meeting with his manager. But he rings through and, sure enough, the manager appears and beckons me into his office.
‘I’m Michalis Pallis. I believe we have some urgent business to discuss. Is James joining us?’
I take a deep breath. ‘No, James is not joining us. He’s gone to our office in Florida.’
‘Oh, this is a shame. Not permanently, I hope?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ I’m tempted to ask why it’s a shame but think better of it. I’m guessing James turns a blind eye to all the issues in the hotel.
It’s no great surprise that the office looks like a bomb’s hit it, with papers piled high. There’s a Chinese cat ornament rocking and waving to me from its perch on top of a filing cabinet. There’s cat-related stuff dotted all around the office, including pictures on the walls and a rubber in the shape of a cat sitting on the desk. I half expect one to jump on my knee.
I can’t resist. ‘So, you like cats, then?’
He spends the next ten minutes telling me how his mother looks after the strays in town.
I’m seriously losing the will to live. ‘So, Michalis, back to the matter at hand. There seems to be a trend of the hotel receiving bad reviews, which is bringing your scores down.’
‘Really? I did not notice.’
‘As the manager, Michalis, it’s your job to notice. You should be looking at these reviews every day and addressing them.’
‘Guests always complain about something. They are not happy unless they find fault.’
‘They don’t complain this much at our other hotels. What about Mr Jenkins? He had a valid point about that timetable. In fact, if you’d bothered to look at customer reviews in the past two weeks, you’d see that Mr Jenkins wasn’t the first person to be stranded.’
‘I keep saying this – they are not stranded. There is a perfectly good taxi service.’
‘Right, that’s enough. This incompetence stops right now. You have a compensation budget that you can use to recompense Mr Jenkins and the others. That timetable needs altering immediately. While I was being checked in, you rudely interrupted Giannis. That practice is to stop with immediate effect.’
‘I did no such thing, I just ask question.’
‘Yes, without acknowledging me! The customer! Maybe if I had long whiskers and miaowed, you might have taken notice?’ I don’t give him chance to answer. ‘And another thing. The standard of cleanliness here is absolutely appalling. These are photos that I’ve just taken in the room I was checked into. I did a hygiene check in the restaurant toilets and that was off the scale. Oh, and I want the couple in Room 25 upgraded to the best room you’ve got and a complimentary bottle of champagne delivered to the room. And I want the room to
be clean. Do I make myself clear?’
Michalis is shaking his head. ‘This is so unnecessary. James never makes all this fuss. We get the nitty-gritty out of the way and then we hit the town…’
This is the final straw. I hand him my report. ‘These are all the action points that I want sorting out before I go back to the UK, which gives you nearly two weeks. Non-compliance will mean this hotel will lose its gold status, do I make myself clear?’
‘Very clear.’ He’s about to say something else but changes his mind.
We part company. As I leave, Giannis is still looking confused and Mr Jenkins and the shuttle-bus party are heading back towards the desk. Part of me is tempted to hang around and listen in on how Michalis deals with the situation after my pep talk; another part of me is thinking I need a stiff drink. That part wins hands down.
Chapter 11
Stephanie
We twist and turn through the narrow streets. I wouldn’t even know if we were on the same streets we’ve just come up. It’s all a maze. Within a couple of minutes, we arrive at the end of a street that opens into a little square. There, in all its glory, is a Greek taverna. It’s just like I’d imagined. A crude wooden structure, surrounded by lots of brightly-coloured plants, pots and painted tables and chairs, which are in the restaurant and also lining the wall in the square opposite.
Costas resumes his waiter’s role. ‘Does madam have a preference for a particular table?’
‘Somewhere in the shade would be lovely. I need to acclimatise my pale skin.’
A woman greets us. Costas gestures towards a table that’s nicely shaded. She seats us and returns with some menus.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Costas asks.
‘Ooh, something nice and refreshing. I’ve worked up quite a thirst walking up to the amphitheatre.’
‘I would recommend Afternoon Delight.’
I can feel my heart begin to race and I’m probably blushing like mad. ‘And what’s in one of those?’ I’m half expecting him to suggest it’s what we do later but, no, he hands me the cocktail menu and starts reeling off the ingredients.
Under a Greek Spell Page 8
