House keeping in Silicon Valley
Paul Tully saw the woman from the swimming pool. She had a clipboard, keys and walked from door to door, three floors above him with 17 steps between floors. Sometimes she knocked at the doors and other times she walked past. She wore a pink housecoat. The pink was similar to the hybrid roses near the pool, next to the white foxgloves. The housekeeping lady knocked at his door. Not a good sign, he thought. He wanted to stay at least another night but it appeared he was on the departure list. Three children carrying green towels ran past the woman. He clambered out of the heated pool. It was exciting swimming outside in the morning after going for a run, especially with palm trees around. He had to remind himself he was not here on vacation but for business. He looked up, saw and heard an aeroplane, circling to land at nearby San Jose airport.
Paul was the Hotel Reye, Sunnyvale, California, 40 miles south of San Francisco. Yahoo, Applied Micro Devices and the Apple company had their headquarters nearby. The year was 2005. This was Silicon Valley with communities such as Cupertino, Palo Alto and San Jose. A Mecca for electronic engineers.
The area may have remained orchard if Stanford University in Palo Alto had not erupted with technology and spurned engineers like Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard. Paul Tully was here for a three day electronic trade show held at the nearby Santa Clara Convention Centre. He was a hardware engineer at Angela Electronics based in Vancouver, Canada and to obtain a reduced airfare he needed to stay a Saturday night. This was fine as his wife Anne Marie was en route from Vancouver at that very minute to join him later that day to start an impromptu holiday visiting Carmel or Lake Tahoe; but as of now they had no room for tonight. Paul was scheduled for morning and afternoon seminars on electromagnetism and ASIC design. The way things stood, he would have to check out and find another hotel for that night. But when would he look? It could be time consuming and costly. He knew that some people in his company did not look favourably on him being sent to this show and management would frown upon him if he spent too much on a hotel room. Before he departed someone in finance gave him the company guidelines for travel. Hotels were generally full when there was trade show in the vicinity. What a waste of time! Yes, when he booked he was told there was no room for Thursday night but the hotel was affordable and ideally located to the Santa Clara Convention Centre.
“ I am sorry sir, we have a girls’ soccer team coming in from Atlanta plus a large party from Seattle who want to visit Paramount's Great America Theme Park. We are only one mile away from the Park. But I am sure a room, will open up. It usually does.” That’s what Reservation told him in Vancouver a month ago. He actually understood what they were saying. So often he had difficulty understanding the fast, clipped Northern Californian accent.
Did he have time to go in the hot tub? His waterproof watch said it was 8:05am. Well just for a few minutes! His physiotherapist said the hot tub would be good for his Achilles tendonitis and hamstring ailments. He still had to have breakfast, pack, make some phone calls and check out by 9:30am. Paul stepped with caution into the hot tub: the jets momentarily washed his problems away. He stretched his leg against the jets. He mused that Silicon Valley had wonderful weather but besides theme parks and wineries there were no other attractions. This was a place for serious work. Consequently, this modern day Mission housed two devout orders; business traveller and tourist-holiday maker. He had already been to the front desk that morning, taken the free Fuji apple, and looked at the time in London, New York, and Ottawa on the world clocks. Three men about his age wearing AMD golf shirts and carrying fashionable computers bags waited at the hotel entrance for their ride. He had seen them the previous day at the show. “I’m in room 337….can I stay another night?
“Sorry” said Justine “We are fully booked tonight. There might be a last minute cancellation. We won’t know until later in the morning.”
The plan was for Anne Marie to take one of the private shuttle vans from San Francisco Airport and wait for Paul at Hotel Reye. San Jose Airport was closer but the routing from Vancouver, was lengthy and complicated. He thought of contacting Anne Marie by cell phone but then she might not get the message. She was able to send and receive text messages but his old phone was not capable. It would be best if she found a hotel in San Francisco and he joined her in the evening taking the Caltrain in Sunnyvale to 4th Street in San Francisco.
Three children speaking Spanish attempted to open the pool gate. They didn’t want to understand it was closed. Suddenly two young women joined them and opened it. The kids hit the pool. They were alright! Paul returned to real time and moved out of the tub. He snatched his green towel and plastic card key. The young women, presumably the mothers, sat on chairs and ignored him. After 51 steps he arrived at his room and fumbled with the white programmed plastic key. He recalled that on his first morning he had forgotten his key: so down to the front desk for another. Today he had placed a do not disturb sign. On the third attempt, he opened the door. He entered the darkened room. No pulsing messages light on the phone.
They had talked of visiting Yosemite National Park but that was about 6 hours driving from Sunnyvale and he had heard one needed all kinds of reservations. Then there were the Californian Missions they could have chased down. He showered, changed and descended the 51 steps to the dining room. For some reason, he thought of the Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia. Paul had a ticket allowing a free continental breakfast. Most of the dining room had young families attempting breakfast. He heard a British accent from one table. It reminded him of Tony Blair the Prime Minister. Some food was eaten but there seemed to be a lot of chair moving and children rushing around. One television showed tennis and another one of George W. Bush departing on a plane. There were two other golf shirt dressed businessmen in the restaurant. One read a USA today the other worked his PDA. Clearly the tourist community order prevailed today. As he exited two of the swimming children collided with him.
“Por favor perdone los niños señor”, said one of the young mothers.
“Olvidelo” Paul proudly replied.He walked past the front desk,
“Just checking again if I might be able to stay another night in 337?” The gentle shaking of Justine’s head said it all.
“ You can leave your luggage in the room behind me until later”
“Might there be any faxes for me?”
“Room 337, no faxes sir. You know the hotel is a hot spot? You can receive e-mail anywhere”
Yes, thank you. He started climbing the 51 steps.
Paul travelled computer free. This was the third time he had done this and so far he had managed by using Internet Cafés and Trade Centre free e-mail services. His PDA and cell phone could not receive e-mail… was he technologically being left behind? At the 33rd step, he paused; more people were in the pool. Yes it would be pleasant to swim 5 brisk laps at the end of the day. He heard Coldplay Clocks being piped into overhead speakers. Paul mentally downloaded music into his head: the ubiquitous Eagles’ Hotel California, and Elvis Presley’s Now or never. Anne Marie would be travelling with her green 4GB iPod topped up with Celtic music: Natalie MacMaster, the Corrs and the Rankins. He arrived at the do not disturb sign on his door and heard the phone ringing. More fumbling with key: too late. As he entered the curtained room, he saw the phone light flashing. Well, should he start packing or check for messages? He hated packing so checking for messages was easier. There were two messages: one from Justine at the front desk and one from his office saying there was no need to phone but they had sent a fax.
“So where is the fax, he thought,” The phone rang again.
“My love I was quite worried, when I just phoned on my cell, a Spanish child and her mum spoke with me, I think you gave me the wrong room number. I am at San Francisco Airport waiting for the shuttle.” There was an official knock at the door,
“House keeping”
“One minute Anne Marie”
Without knocking over the lamp stand or bashing his knee against the bed, Paul opened the door and saw a pink
house coat and a clipboard.
“This fax is for you Mr. Tully. It was placed in the wrong box. I see you are no longer checking out. Would you like your room cleaned? The front desk was trying to reach you.”
“Yes, yes, just one minute, please. I am on the phone”.
“Anne Marie great news, see you later this afternoon. The front desk will give you a key for room 337”.
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