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On an annual basis more or less, Miss Helen's birthday rolls around.
But she, not being like most, doesn't just have a birth day - she has a birth month.
And during this month there's all kinds of celebrations.
Big parties.
Small parties.
Luncheons at Bergdorf's in New York.
And quiet birthday dinners with intimate friends.
Do you remember John?
I brought him up in a post entitled "A Hamburger for Thanksgiving" not so long ago.
Well John, being rich and totally idle, has plunked down in Washington to spend this entire birthday month with Miss Helen. (Not that I'm jealous or anything like that.)
On one quiet evening during all the hoopla, they settled down with a bottle of champagne and went about reciting their favorite quotes from Oscar Wilde and Dorothy Parker.
Miss Helen was kind enough to email some of the slightly-mangled versions they came up with, and there's one I want to share with you tonight.
It's one of my favorite Parker quotes, and I'm sure you've already heard it. But nonetheless, it's always good for a much needed laugh, anytime, anywhere.
I'm quoting from my own memory, by the way, which I'm sure will be closer to the original than some champagne-driven interpretation. (No offense, John.)
Said the lovely Miss Parker:
"I love a good martini,
Two at the most.
With three I'm under the table.
With four I'm under my host."
Good night,
Andrew
Monday, June 10, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Pampering the Rich!
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This post will probably get me in trouble with every professional butler society on earth.
But here goes.
Most all of us with a clear conscience would like to excel in our jobs, right? To really contribute and do more than is asked.
Not necessarily to brown nose or promote our own careers, but for the personal satisfaction of doing a job well, and beyond expectations.
At the butler academy this kind of attitude was highly encouraged, and referred to as pampering -- to go beyond your basic job description and make your employers feel comfortable and happy in their own home.
The term pampering grated on my nerves, of course. In my mind that's something reserved for those we sincerely care for and/or love. Not some employer who pays us for such treatment.
However, if you're lucky enough in this job to be stuck with a family you happen to like, then a degree of pampering comes naturally, and you're glad to do it.
It's no secret I adored the former wife and was forever doing small things for her I thought she never even noticed.
Little things, like making sure the wick on her bedside candle was dug out of the wax and standing upright, ready for the next lighting.
Or draining and drying her beloved pickled beets so they wouldn't drip on her clothing or stain her finger tips. (I even bought a small glass dish with a lid to accommodate this addiction, so she wouldn't have to dig down into the beet jar.)
And there were more noticeable things, I guess, like putting fresh sprigs of eucalyptus under her car seats, or running out for her favorite frozen yogurt if Ester the upstairs maid reported she had a "headache", our euphemism for an extreme hangover.
But what I want to tell you tonight is that pampering the rich is a dangerous path to go down.
Their needs and desires are voracious, and they'll use up every last ounce of energy you've got if you let them. The useful adage "give them an inch and they'll take a mile" comes handily into play.
So if you're in this business and tempted to begin this unending journey, always remember:
Today's pampering becomes tomorrow's expectation!
Thanks for stopping by tonight.
Hope this was at least mildly interesting.
Andrew
PS: When the Missus packed up and moved out, the little beet dish disappeared at the same time.
This post will probably get me in trouble with every professional butler society on earth.
But here goes.
Most all of us with a clear conscience would like to excel in our jobs, right? To really contribute and do more than is asked.
Not necessarily to brown nose or promote our own careers, but for the personal satisfaction of doing a job well, and beyond expectations.
At the butler academy this kind of attitude was highly encouraged, and referred to as pampering -- to go beyond your basic job description and make your employers feel comfortable and happy in their own home.
The term pampering grated on my nerves, of course. In my mind that's something reserved for those we sincerely care for and/or love. Not some employer who pays us for such treatment.
However, if you're lucky enough in this job to be stuck with a family you happen to like, then a degree of pampering comes naturally, and you're glad to do it.
It's no secret I adored the former wife and was forever doing small things for her I thought she never even noticed.
Little things, like making sure the wick on her bedside candle was dug out of the wax and standing upright, ready for the next lighting.
Or draining and drying her beloved pickled beets so they wouldn't drip on her clothing or stain her finger tips. (I even bought a small glass dish with a lid to accommodate this addiction, so she wouldn't have to dig down into the beet jar.)
And there were more noticeable things, I guess, like putting fresh sprigs of eucalyptus under her car seats, or running out for her favorite frozen yogurt if Ester the upstairs maid reported she had a "headache", our euphemism for an extreme hangover.
But what I want to tell you tonight is that pampering the rich is a dangerous path to go down.
Their needs and desires are voracious, and they'll use up every last ounce of energy you've got if you let them. The useful adage "give them an inch and they'll take a mile" comes handily into play.
So if you're in this business and tempted to begin this unending journey, always remember:
Today's pampering becomes tomorrow's expectation!
Thanks for stopping by tonight.
Hope this was at least mildly interesting.
Andrew
PS: When the Missus packed up and moved out, the little beet dish disappeared at the same time.
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