Bill's Bulletin Board
By Bill Rea

There are plenty of times when I'm very glad that I don't work in the hospitality industry any more, like now.

As many of you know, I spent about three years of my callow youth waiting tables in a hotel dining room, along with a whole lot of general chores around the facility that was mercifully demolished about 15 years ago. In the course of those three years, I performed just about every chore a hotel would require of its minions, with one notable exception. I never actually rented a room. I did everything else, including tend bar, cook (I actually learned a lot of what I know about cooking in that job, which came in handy in my previous bachelor life), make beds, park cars, carry bags, paint, unclog toilets, etc. I was once part of of a group of four (including a night manager) who sprinted across the parking lot trying to catch a bunch of guys who were spotted siphoning gas out of guests' tanks. I have sometimes wondered what would have happened had we caught them. I'm sure I would have done some hospital time.

The Toronto hotel where I worked catered to a lot clientele from southern Canada, also known as the United States, and that was especially fun in the days when American currency was actually worth something.

As is the case with people in just about any setting you could name, with the possible exception of a maximum security prison, most of the folks I encountered in those years were nice, normal and sort of aware that they were expected to actually share this planet with a couple of billion other people, and they generally acted accordingly. But mixed into that group was an assortment of jerks, which made life a living hell at the time and have provided scores of anecdotes since.

Some of these jerks were Americans who were having trouble getting their heads around the notion that they were in a foreign country.

"I'll have a 7 and 7," was a bar order I'd frequently receive, and for the benefit of those who never seen much of the world, I was being asked to produce a shot of Seagram's 7 whiskey and 7up. The problem was Seagram's 7 wasn't sold in Canada in those days. I'd tell the customer that, and more often that not, everyone concerned would have a good laugh.

"Oh, I forgot I'm in a foreign country," was a common exclamation.

There were others from south of the border who objected to the sales tax we were obliged to charge (which I recall was stiffer than it is today, at least in the hospitality biz, but only applied to more expensive meal items and booze), the fact that we weren't allowed to sell liquor by the bottle through room service and we had to close down the bar a lot earlier in the evening than they were used to.

Then there were the questions about the currency, which provided plenty of controversy.

This was the time in which the American dollar was worth only a couple of cents more than the loonie (this was some years before the term "loonie" was even coined). Many Americans didn't bother getting Canadian money before they left home, or exchanging it once they arrived up here. So I was frequently handed pictures of Messrs. Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton or Jackson, instead of the Queen, Sir John A. or Laurier. Fair enough. If a sizeable amount of your business is going to come from residents of a superpower, then it pays to be a little accommodating.

If I recall correctly, the exchange rate we paid at the hotel was consistently lower than what a bank would have offered, and I frankly thought that was fair too, considering a hotel is not a financial institution. Bank tellers don't serve beer (if they do, I am obviously doing my banking at the wrong place), and hotel employees have other, more pressing things to do than keeping abreast of currency exchange rates.

Actually, the differing exchange rates seldom caused problems. The real fun started as some people tried to get their heads around the fact that Canada has different currency.

The drill in the hotel with people paying with American money was we figured the change owing in the normal way, then separately calculate the amount of exchange owing.

"Here's your change, and here's the exchange on your American money," is the way I used to present it. It didn't always work.

"Excuse me, sir, but what is this?" was a question I often got from people holding up Canadian money.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" was the common follow-up question I received.

Remember, I was employed in the hospitality industry at the time, so it would have been occupational suicide to offer the reply that I'm sure popped into many of your heads. I usually suggested people take their Canadian cash to their banks when they got home, and have the money exchanged there.

Would you believe I once got asked what a bank was?

My favourite line from some of these people, which I heard frequently, was "I don't want none of that play money, boy!"

Needless to say, that was direction I was paid by my employers to ignore.

There was a another time when I delivered a room service order, amounting to about $20, and the woman wanted to pay with American money. Now she knew about the different currencies and understood the exchange rates, and she wanted to be saddled with as little Canadian money as possible. She appealed to me for help in that regard, and it seemed like pretty good PR to oblige. After copious figuring with pen and paper (this was a couple of years before that smart person came up with an affordable pocket calculator that actually fit in the standard pocket), I happily told the lady that a certain number of American dollars would result in her being owed the nominal sum of 24 cents in change.

Her relief was obvious as she grasped my forearm with the same passion I'd have expected if I had just rescued her from the clutches of King Kong. I had just saved her from what she saw as a major headache, and such gratitude and appreciation could be clearly seen in her eyes as she softly said to me, "Keep it as a tip."

These were some of the things I had to put up with in the good old days when Americans expected something more for paying with American currency. I was long out of the business when the loonie hit lows compared to the greenback, although the anecdotes might have been a lot better.

I shake at the thought of facing one of those people who didn't want "that play money" and telling them they actually owed more.

I'm very glad that's music I don't have to face.