Summer job

My first day working as a room attendant in a Blackpool hotel.

In the summer of 2023, I started working as a room attendant at a really old fashioned Blackpool hotel. It overlooked the beach and the promenade and although it had the odd hen or stag party staying, it was a nice hotel. Simple, a bit worse for wear, dated, but nice all the same if you didn’t mind peeling wallpaper and flickering bulbs.

On my first day, I was heading up to the first floor with some towels to put away.

“You there, young man. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a trouser press, would you?” In the long, red carpeted corridor stood a short, round man wearing striped pyjamas and the most outrageous handlebar moustache I’d ever seen. He was talking to me.

“A trouser press?” good customer service Graham, good customer service, I kept thinking. “I can get you one. Which room?” I was seventeen. I’d never seen a trouser press in my life. I didn’t even know if one existed.

“Room one.” he pointed to the door behind him. “Thank you lad. Pop back with it and I’ll give you a tip!” The man turned and shuffled back into his room, closing the door behind him. It was a solid red door with a brass “1” at the top of it.

“Jane, do we have a trouser press?”

“Oh god.” she pondered. “Maybe?” She went into the back of reception to find one. “I’ve got an iron!” she called through. “Which room is it? You’ll need help getting the board up there.”

“Room one,” I said.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah. Room one.”

“We don’t have a room one, love. It’s rooms two to eighteen.”

Thank you for reading A Work Of Fiction. This was the first story that I ever published online!