56 - The Art of Eavesdropping!

CLARIDGE’S, London, THE PLAZA ATHENEE, Paris, and THE PIERRE, NYC

Claridge's lobby 1998

     I make no bones about it, I have always enjoyed eavesdropping.  When alone, it's an ideal, if not entirely reputable, pastime in hotel lobbies and restaurants.

The following  overheard conversation remains anonymous, because I never laid eyes on any of the protagonists.   I was spending Christmas in London at Claridge’s; the action took place in the room next to mine, and it was so enticing that I readily admit pressing my ear to the wall to monitor it.

A dissatisfied guest had telephoned the front desk several times to voice multiple grievances.  As her voice became louder, my curiosity increased. Her primary source of unhappiness was a missing silk scarf which she had purchased as a Christmas gift at Liberty’s of London.

“If it wasn't stolen,” she was saying to her telephone interlocutor, “then she [the maid] must have thrown it away, and in any event, I am out a scarf!"

The real Joan Rivers (Google)

  Her voice was shrill, and although I never saw her, I always imagined the sound coming from the mouth of Joan Rivers, the much-lifted television personality.

She later requested the head concierge come to her rooms, and I could hear some of their conversation clearly.  He was trying his best to placate the enraged client.   Sensing an ally, “Joan Rivers” let loose with a litany of complaints in addition to the missing scarf.

Her father-in-law had rented three suites for the extended family for the holidays, and his considerable business was, she felt, under-appreciated.  “When we arrived for dinner last night at 10 o’clock, we were told the restaurant was closed.  No apologies, no nothing, just closed,” she complained.

“Do you think anyone would have proposed opening the restaurant for us?  Is this a way to treat clients spending this much money?”

The concierge voiced repeated tut-tuts and assured her the hotel would replace the scarf with any she chose.

“But I want the one I bought, and Liberty’s is now closed for Christmas”   Her voice went from a shrieking harridan to that of a petulant child.  Though "Joan Rivers" sounded somehow calmed by the obsequious concierge, the conversation ended in an impasse.   I never heard any more, and suspected that my neighbors ultimately changed hotels. 

My heart went out to the hotel maid.  I never saw her either, but I said a silent prayer that she be spared any further harassment over the Christmas scarf drama. 

Mary and Patricia, Claridge's Housekeeping 1998
(no connection with Joan Rivers)

* * * * * * * *

As eavesdropping goes, the last lunch at the Plaza Athenée's Relais Plaza grill was a prime example:  neither beginning nor end, no plot at all, just fleeting peeks into other people's lives.  It makes me regret not having a Somerset Maugham knack for turning bits and pieces of overheard conversations into fine short stories. 

Dickie and Brenda at the Relais Plaza 2013

The Baroness d’Alésie (that is not exactly her name, but it is close enough) sits on my left, an elderly woman with a gentleman friend who much resembles the older Frank Lloyd Wright.  I pick up intriguing morsels of their conversation, though it is really a monologue as I never actually hear Frank Lloyd Wright say anything.  He just listens and nods at regular intervals.

“Very handsome, not very intelligent, mind you, not very good at being a gigolo ….” says the Baroness at one point.

“… Now she was quite another story.  You remember how very beautiful she was, that exquisite South American look with all that impeccable jewelry and such a delicious touch of nastiness mixed with her charm …”

Discussing restaurants, the baroness, still doing all the talking, comments at some point on  how she “abhors this new way everyone in restaurants always wants to touch you and kiss you.”

I can't imagine what she means, then as they begin to leave, an enthusiastic couple sitting nearby leaps up to pay its respects, the gentleman giving her the most theatrical hand-kiss I have ever seen.  It resembles a one-sided tango.

I am almost forgetting a third member of the luncheon party.  The distinguished old couple is accompanied by a perfectly behaved King Charles spaniel  who sits on a special little rug brought by the hostess and placed on the banquette beside the baroness.  I am amazed to observe a copious plate of food (looking suspiciously like grilled calves liver) has been ordered for the pampered pet who lunches beside his mistress.

I regret not having sneaked a few snapshots for posterity, but  I am not quite brazen enough to whip out my camera at times like these.  To compensate, here's a portrait of Michaela, the Relais' charming hostess.

Michaela in the Relais Plaza 2012

Playing 007 at The Pierre

Doorman at The Pierre

 If my propensity for listening in on others' lives might well be deemed a bit frivolous, my eavesdropping talents were once enlisted for an official mission more or less for the good of the people.

When I stayed at the Wyndham, where there was no food service, I would alternate breakfasts between a nearby diner and the equally nearby Pierre or Sherry Netherland hotels.

I got to know the Pierre’s breakfast room manager who arrived at my table one day with a demeanor of concern.  He explained that the hotel’s executive director was on the way to what he described as a secret meeting with a group of French businessmen.  That rumor was rife the hotel was on the verge of being taken over by a foreign conglomerate!  Thus the reason for the staff’s concern.

He would be seating the group in a little alcove next to my table.  Would it be too much to ask if I could lend an ear?  As the group was speaking French, he explained that anything I might overhear would be greatly appreciated.

For me such a request --don’t ask me why-- was something akin to an honor, and I enthusiastically lent myself to the mission.

As soon as the party came within earshot, I realized there was no question of selling the hotel, at least not that year.  They were in fact film makers from the major Paris television channel, negotiating conditions for a documentary which would give a bird’s eye view into life at three international luxury hotels, including the Pierre.

When I reported back on my 007 mission, Bruno, the maitre d’hotel-manager, appeared greatly pleased, and several of his colleagues later came by my table to relay their thanks and relief.  

I felt much the celebrity, though I no longer remember whether or not I had to pay for breakfast that day!

The Pierre at its 60th Street entrance (Bing)

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

Claridge's was also mentioned in blog No. 16, "A momentous long-distance call" Dec. 2012;  Bruno at the Pierre in blog No. 19,  "Hotel staff's best and worst list" Jan. 2013; the Wyndham was featured in blog No. 35 "Hollywood on the Hudson" May 2013 (to access, click on  title).