When able to resist the temptation to judge others, I can see them as teachers of forgiveness in my life, reminding me that I can only have peace of mind when I forgive rather than judge.

-Gerald Jampolsky

I work at a hotel in a rather suburban area.  The surrounding neighborhoods are much like Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives); there are villians and damsels, like everywhere, only the villians here usually wear suits and damsels shade their eyes in Polo glasses. BMWs and Lexuses are a common car, but your status begins with your lot and its proximity to the green or gulfcart you drive. 

Our guests are generally older couples or Japanese businessmen visiting companies in the area. Occasionally, there are truckers who stop in or contractors who stay by the week and return home on the weekends.

It’s early into tonight when a young lady walks in. She’s slightly rounded woman with azul painted eyes and a brilliant smile for 1am. She looks at me like an old friend and requests a room on the ground level, facing the street. She sighs a laugh quietly, fondles her handbag and pulls out her licence and credit card.

As I code her key and confirm her stay is only for the evening – or what remains of it, a man approaches the door. “Oh -oh, no,” she laughs nervously, “he has beer. I mean, he’s my boyfriend -we’re not going far, what I mean is — I’m not drunk. Do I smell like beer? Oh dear.”

I buzz him in and nod. “No, you’re fine. I assure her.” She seems to offer bashful gratitude as the two depart through the lobby without exchanging a word.

It’s not often that I encounter walk-ins while on the 3rd shift. My typical night begins with a phone call from the proprietor who asks if everything is okay. He’s a gently spoken man, and his voice is as calm and precise as a well-tailored suit. One of the girls, who works at the desk, told me he was a psychiatrist who lived some distance away. She said his questions were always deliberate but sincere. I suppose anyone who medicates the psyche would need to seem deliberate  and sincere.

About an hour and a half after the telephone rings at the front desk. “Hello? Hey,” the familiar voice begins, “this is me – ugh, room 216, I think? How’s it going up there?” She sounds even more alert than before, less occupied than when she arrived but less happy as well. “I was wondering if you could give me a wake-up call?”

“Of course. When would you -”

“Well, it depends. When do you leave?” She asks in a girlish yet nervous voice.

“My shift ends at 7am. Would you like your wake up call then?”

There’s a slight pause before she answers, “No, no, that would be too late. You see, I have much driving to do in the morning… I don’t know. Honestly, I’m hungry. Is there any food up there? I mean I only have beer here, and well, it’s just me.” The change in her tone wholly unravelled with her last statement.

“I’ll be more than happy to offer you some of the breakfast food if you’d like to come down and get it before you leave?” She declined.

‘You do you; I’ll do me’ is a motto often heard. I know that it’s not my position to question the actions of any guest. Afterall, it’s my job and they generate the business that pays my wages. However, it’s hard to ignore the sobering change of thrill to shame on someone’s face. I can’t help but wonder what motivated her visit or where she’ll be next.

I want to believe that I was an agent for some good somewhere along the line; the reckoning aspect of all of this is, however, even if I wasn’t an agent for good I have my role to fulfill. It reminds me that our decisions are our wills, freely made. If you do you and I do me, the effects don’t end there. I’m sure she doesn’t remember me tomorrow or consider my memory of her, but I will.