Travelling For Work Is Less Than Glamorous

I’m working in a plant that’s about as middle-of-nowhere as you can possibly be in northern Italy. I’ve joined two of my colleagues, who have been working at the site for a week. They clock out for the day and go to the hotel, but I stay, alone, to complete the first part of the intervention. When I’m finally done, it’s raining in buckets, my period came unannounced, and I feel like crap.

Looking forward to a hot shower and dinner, I get to the hotel reception while still in my dirty overalls.

Me: “Good evening. I’m [My Name] from [Company]. There should be a single room booked in my name.”

Receptionist: “We have no rooms available.”

Me: “It’s okay. I have a reservation made in my name by [Company]…”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, there are no rooms available, at all, because there was a problem with the online booking site. I explained the same thing to your colleagues when they showed up last week.”

Me: “So where are my colleagues right now?”

Receptionist: “I helped them find accommodation to a different hotel, but even that is full right now. Frankly, I thought you and your company would solve the problem on your own.”

I start fuming.

Me: “No, because we were never informed of a problem, either by your hotel or my colleagues, and now I have nowhere to sleep through no fault of my own. I’m not familiar with the area and my phone has no reception. The sooner you find me a place within a reasonable distance, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”

She starts making phone calls. All the while, I’m standing in the reception, uncomfortable and cramping, because I don’t want to get their sofa dirty in any way. Finally…

Receptionist: “I’ve found a room. It’s a twenty-minute drive away but I have to tell you, it’s no place fit for a lady.”

Me: “Ma’am, this ‘lady’ spent the day rolling in dirt, expects to sleep rough in the back of a van, and fails to see how a motel can be any worse than that.”

The receptionist reluctantly gave me the address and I went. I soon found out why she’d say it was “no place fit for a lady.” It was an hourly motel!

It was, however, comfortable and clean, and despite the odd nocturnal noises, I stayed there for the rest of the gig. On the following day, I made sure to chew a new one to my colleagues, who did not see fit to alert me about the booking mishap or even inform the company that they were not staying where everyone thought they would, in an area where cell phone reception is iffy at best!