Short ‘N’ Snappy

– WoMM

A Hotel Scare

The Woman from Madras Musings travels frequently on work. During these trips, she usually books a room at a reputed hotel chain, one known for exceptional service to business travellers. WoMM has never had much cause to worry about travelling alone. But an incident in the recent past has caused much concern.

Everything was quite routine – WoMM flew to attend a meeting, post which she checked into the hotel she usually does. The place was quite crowded, as she recalls; a large group of employees had booked rooms in the hotel for an offsite. WoMM had a rather peaceful dinner and retired early, as she had a morning flight to catch. She was sleeping quite soundlywhen a series of raps sounded on her door a little past midnight. WoMM woke up startled but assumed that the knocking was in error – maybe someone had mistaken her room for someone else’s. She brushed it off and had just settled back to sleep when the loud knocking came again, more insistent this time.

Now the Mater did not raise a fool in WoMM. She sat up in bed and called out to ask who it was and what the person wanted. The man (and it was a he) at the door turned out to be a member of the staff, or so he claimed. “Room service,” he said. “Open the door.” WoMM shouted back she hadn’t ordered anything and that he could leave. Came the reply, he wanted to talk to WoMM; if she could just open the door, he’d like to have a few words with her. He knocked again to drive the point home.

WoMM grew scared. Anger soon followed, and she called the reception at once to lodge a complaint. She made no effort to hide her feelings, and the man outside left, presumably having heard a bitter WoMM complain to the receptionist. Not much sleep was had for the rest of the night, and WoMM felt quite grumpy and tired when she checked out in the morning. By that time, the staff had changed shifts; the new workers claimed no knowledge of the matter and WoMM had little time or energy to argue. When the Better Half heard of it, he was hopping mad – he placed a complaint with the manager in terms much more serious than WoMM’s complaint, prompting the latter to hurriedly review the CCTV footage. The manager called B.H back with an apology and explained that the staff – whom he claimed spoke neither English nor the local language – had mistaken WoMM’s room for another guest’s. Hogwash, of course, but how is one to prove it? And so the matter was dropped.

WoMM mentioned the incident to a female colleague who, as it happens, travels much more frequently on work than WoMM does. WoMM learned that while she stays at branded hotel chains too, she’s had a couple of such incidents on her own; and that while these things are not exactly common, they’re not unheard of either. The colleague then proceeded to describe an elaborate nighttime routine she follows while travelling alone – before going to sleep, she places the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on her door handle outside; double-locks the door; latches the security chain; pushes a chair against the door; and then places her heavy suitcase on the chair. If the worst happens and someone tries to force their way through, she can hear the transgression in time and wake up. WoMM must have looked horrified because the colleague was quick to earnestly add that none of this was an overreaction, not really; and anyway, one had nothing to lose by it and could go to sleep feeling as safe as possible under the circumstances. Still shaken from the recent incident, WoMM had to admit that she had a point.

Recently, another female friend working for another firm confided in WoMM that her manager had curtailed travel budgets. He now insists that she book rooms in local hotels rather than ‘expensive’ chains – he personally found these rooms clean and safe enough, and what was good for the goose was surely good for the gander? WoMM’s friend believed that he had no clue what ‘safe enough’ meant for a woman travelling alone, and that it was no fault of hers that he was such a goose. WoMM rather agrees.

The Spirit of Madras

The Woman from Madras Musings was in the process of being bussed to a flight, feeling rather like a fish in a tin of sardines. One is packed so tightly in with the rest of the passengers that it is sometimes hard not to overhear conversations. And so, WoMM happened to listen to a chat about Madras Week among a group of colleagues returning home from a work trip.

It turned out that one of the group – a gentleman who seemed to enjoy writing – had written an article or two about Madras for a Madras Week contest. Conducted by whom, WoMM is unable to say – it seems to have been an internal newsletter circulated within the company. Proud of his work, he had shown the articles to a superior and then had forgotten about the whole thing. When the prizes were announced, he said, he could have been knocked down by a feather – the winner was a chap who had recently moved to Madras from the garden city nearby; why, he added, the fellow didn’t even speak a lick of Tamil! Lest our good readers peg the poor gentleman a sore loser, let WoMM tell you that he and his colleagues were good sports. They all professed surprise as well as generous appreciation. Now isn’t this a lovely example of the spirit of Madras?

A recent piece of news trending in social media has left The Woman from Madras Musings feeling quite indignant. A certain gem of a person – a well-known celebrity in the film industry who has multiple claims of harassment against him – has announced (no one asked, really) that he appreciates the recent investigations against misdemeanours in a neighbouring state, adding that it would be worthwhile to conduct something similar in our own state. Irony has died a thousand deaths.

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