By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 8: Nothing Is Perfect
At the hotel, a nice lunch in the King George Grill, a long nap, another good meal in the Oak Room, and many occasions to consider, while sloshing the liquids in my glass, what it might be like to live here. And there were a couple of entertaining events.
Cedric, my busboy at dinner, was a slappie I didn’t remember seeing before. His distinctive attire told me why. Instead of the standard brown slappie cap, he wore a white, fez-like piece of headgear imprinted with SERVANT IN TRAINING in large black letters. It was like one of those dunce caps you see in cartoons. Which was appropriate. The guy fumbled and bumbled and finally, rushing to clear my table for the dessert course, fell over his boots in a crash of plates and glasses. Everyone looked up, shocked at the breach of discipline. A waiter strode out of the kitchen, followed by two large slappies. The slappies picked up the dishes; the waiter grabbed Servant in Training by the ear and pulled him out of the room. The guests smiled appreciatively: the King George knew how to handle these things. The slappie would get the lesson it needed. After all, it was 40 years old! Obviously, old enough to know better.
