After two night’s worth of good sleep, it’s time to finish the London posts. I would have done it yesterday, but we were hosting an exceptionally well-timed family celebration with 25 guests. That meant I spent the first post-London morning doing a “mother-in-law housecleaning” (Sorry, Omili!) and helping to set up pavilions, tables and chairs in the yard. The first guests and the first gusts of the approaching thunderstorm arrived almost simultaneously, so we all quickly relocated everything to inside the house, dismantled the tents and, finally, stowed the ping pong table under the porch just as the first drops began to fall. It actually was a really nice party, despite the weather’s uncooperative-ness. First we all patted ourselves on the back for making the right decision and in time. Then the torrential rains harmonized well with the soft and jazzy background music. Later the candlelight (after the electricity went out) made it sort of cozy while the gas and charcoal grills guaranteed that we would still get warm food. I got to catch up with nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles . . . A nice day all around.
Anyhooo . . . this is supposed to be about London. Where was I?
Full Day Two
(London Eye, Hyde Park Corner, Natural History Museum, Kensington Palace and Gardens, Notting Hill Gate):
The kids were great all day long and we all came back to the hostel exhausted and happy. Unfortunately what followed for me was a really irritating Round Two of the “Did-we-or-did-we-not-already-pay-for-breakfast?” negotiations with various hostel staff members. The one person I really wanted to talk to – hostel manager – wouldn’t be there till the next morning, unfortunately. I showed a different woman the various emails sent back and forth over the months which clearly mentioned breakfast and room prices. I showed her my calculations of what the total price would be without breakfast and the receipts from my bank transfers showing I had paid about £200 more than that – about the same amount three days of breakfast cost. Three other young men in the staff listened to our discussion and I could tell they were tending toward believing me. The woman stuck to her position, though, and added that I would have to pay for all three days of breakfasts right then and there or they wouldn’t serve us the next day. That pissed me off. I felt my face flushing red and then suddenly remembered one of the tips I used to tell students back in the days when I taught negotiation courses: “Don’t discuss things when you are angry. Find a way to take a break to calm down.” I told the woman I would go talk to my colleague and come back later.
I spent the time going over all the emails and math again. Barb helped me strategize a bit and I told her I was going to try the “Divide and Conquer” tactic. (I had passed one of the staff members in the hall and he had apologized and said he understood my view of things.) The only other tactic useful for this situation that I could remember was how to deal with “Or Else!” threats. I kept that one up my sleeve. I went back to the desk.
Luckily, Mean Lady wasn’t there. I talked to the three guys and said that I needed to see proof in black and white, maybe an itemized invoice, and some math, before I would be willing to pay more. That is when it became clear that they had no detailed information, only the final sum. All three basically admitted that they totally understood my point of view and one added that none of them were senior enough to make decisions of this kind (including the Mean Lady – she was following the orders of a Group Booking manager). One guy was a big jolly looking type wearing a huge black turban and he started speaking in German to me. We chatted for a while and he told me his mother was a teacher too. He was sorry that this situation was causing me stress after spending the whole day with a group of school kids. I replied it wasn’t that bad, just that I didn’t like the extortion: fork over the cash or kids won’t eat tomorrow . . . He nodded. He apologized again for not being able to fix this and the faces of the others showed that they felt the same. Turban Guy said his hands were tied. He could only order the breakfast for us after it was paid for. He was embarrassed.
I reminded him that I would be clearing up the situation with the manager the next day and then we came up with a compromise. I would pay for the one breakfast in advance (and hopefully get it refunded the next day). That worked for everyone and we did it. I was about to leave when Mean Lady reappeared and insisted I pay for all three days. All three men jumped in saying “NO! We have it worked out.” And then they all started to argue. A fourth guy showed up and asked me politely if I could give them some space while they hashed it out among themselves.
As far as I was concerned this discussion was over for me. I got beers for Barb and me and sat down to wait for her. (She had been taking care of the kids all this time.) Out of the corner of my eye I followed the really long discussion at the front desk. I was exhausted. And then it hit me. I still had to do the nerve-wracking task of 14 online check-ins for our return flight! On my cell phone! I felt like crying. Suddenly, Turban Guy came over to my table and said he wanted to tell me – again – how sorry he was. He mentioned – again – that his mother is a teacher and so he knows how much work it is to be on a school trip. He hoped this hassle wasn’t ruining things for me. That was so sweet and really made me feel better. Then Barb showed up and sat next to me, offering her moral support as I navigated the group check-in on my cell. I don’t know what I would have done without her – and not just then, but the entire time! When I finally went to my room after midnight, a letter from the manager had been printed and taped to my door. She wrote she would come in earlier the next day so that we wouldn’t have to wait for her. It was a friendly but non-committal letter.
Full Day Three
The day began with our (prepaid!) breakfast, during which the hostel manager came up to me and introduced herself. She was ready to sit down with me whenever I was. Round Three of the Breakfast Negotiations began sort of dodgy, but she was nice and seemed to care about happy customers. She also admitted that a lot of mistakes had been made on their part during the booking process. She went through the computer listings and found extra charges for unused beds in our rooms – something I hadn’t been informed of. It offered her a way to reduce the amount. Success! Refund! Smiles! I asked her if she preferred red or white wine. She laughed and said neither. I asked her if she liked chocolate. She did. Now I could take off with the kids on our final day of touring London.
(King’s Cross / Platform 9 ¾, a Tube ride, Camden Town, Camden Lock Market, Hamley’s Toy Store, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square, Soho, and Oxford Street):
Near the end of our final walking tour, the kids made a lot of questionable last-minute purchases in awful tourist trap shops – one of which I stepped in and prevented (see above – the poor kid had no idea what “hash” meant or what that plant was.) Once back at the hostel, we had a quick meeting about how to prepare for our 4:45 am departure the next morning (packing everything that night, returning towels, filling water bottles, setting alarms . . .) and then all the kids took off to their rooms. I gave the nice hostel manager the box of chocolates I had bought in Camden and then Barb and I had our traditional end-of-the-day beer as we compared notes on the events of the day. We both confessed to getting lax about the head counting (“. . . nine, ten, . . . eleven, . . . close enough”) and then laughed about it. A hostel worker walked past and thanked me for the chocolates. He said they were delicious. Barb marveled at how great the kids had been. There had been almost no complaining or whining. No arguments. No one was left out or distanced themselves from the others. I told her I wasn’t surprised at all. It’s all about trust. That and the fact that they were more afraid of getting lost in this strange place than we were. “It’s like when you take your pets to the vet and suddenly they are well-behaved,” I said. At some point, a hostel worker handed me the printed out boarding passes and a wave of relief washed over me. My last organizational hurdle had been traversed. For some reason, Barb and I talked forever, leaving us only about 3 ½ hours to sleep before . . .
The kids’ last British adventure mirrored their first one . . .