On Wednesday evening I went to a Leonard Cohen concert. (The tickets were a gift by my girlfriend. She escorted me to the concert, although I'm not sure if she is the biggest Leonard Cohen fan.) Afterwards it was a bit too late to go to a restaurant, so I called room service and I ordered a cheese plate and a glass of white wine.
The front desk manager was young, new and charming.
“We don’t do cheese plates,” he said.
“You do,” I answered. “I ordered it many times.” After a while the fire alarm went off. It didn’t stop, so I went down to see what was happening.
“Did you burn my toast?” I said in jest to the front desk manager.
“Yes,” he said. “And now I don’t know how to turn off the alarm.” An elderly man in a bathrobe held a poodle in his arms, he stood next to me and he whispered: “This happens to me all the time.” Around 2 A.M. I got my cheese plate. I gave the front desk manager a good tip. That was the least I could do.