Before I was an innkeeper, I spent a lot of time trying not to judge people. I am the sort of person who just pegs things. I can, for example, tell a good restaurant from a bad one just by opening the door. We went to aa Indian and Mexican restaurant the other night, and I knew before we sat down that the food was going to be horrible. I was trying not to annoy Matt with my ruthless 'restaurant radar,' so I kept my mouth shut. Big mistake. The food wasn't just bad. It was gross. Matt and I had stomach aches all night.
So we agreed upon a new rule, if a restaurant 'specializes' in more than one cuisine, we keep moving. If the chef can't decide between Chinese and Italian, for example, we're better off at Burger King.
Thou shalt not judge, but I'm not a Christian, so I can judge whomever I please. Not really, but for an innkeeper, it's sort of part of the job. My guests just beg to be judged successfully. It's called great service.
Now, I have the benefit of knowing their permanent address before they arrive, and sometimes I get a glimpse at the make of their vehicle, which helps. Their age is another important factor. But mostly it depends on their clothing and the way they speak. I try to be equitable, but I'd be lying if I said I greeted everyone the same way. When people walk in the door, I make an educated guess about who they are and what kind of service they will find most satisfying. I know before they take off their coats what time they'll be down for breakfast, and what I'll find in their trash.
Mostly, there are the chatters. They are numerous. They are usually retired, and they eat early. In the hour before their dinner reservation, they like to stand in the kitchen while I'm kneading bread dough and tell me all about their nephew who is studying engineering at Perdue. When I offer eggs or pancakes they overwhelmingly choose the eggs. Over easy, or scrambled. They bring their own paperback novels and historical fiction to pass the evening hours and they will make themselves a cup of tea before they will chance disturbing me in the evening. Their wastebaskets hold empty bottles of nasal spray, used ear plugs and newspapers. I find the occasional ginger ale bottle, or snack food wrapper.
Then there are the young couples. There are fewer of them. They check in and go immediately to their room to test the quality of my furniture. They stay out late, and in the morning they wander casually into the kitchen after most of the guests have eaten and they ask me questions about the inn, the area, and my life. We joke around sometimes. We talk about our education, about the job market and usually about the friends whose wedding they are attending. In their trash I never find condoms or lube bottles - too obvious. Lots of tissues, though. And some freebie road maps or travel brochures, lightly used.
Occasionally, I get single older men. They are either traveling for business, or to get away from their wives. They have dinner at the restaurant, where they place an order with the bartender. They chew his ear about property maintenance or their latest hobby -kayaking, hang gliding or back country skiing. They leave very little behind. Empty wine or liquor bottles mostly, and the wrappers or tags from recently purchased things.
Of course there are the families- with their juice boxes and old batteries. Mostly, they are very considerate with their dirty diapers. If anybody is going to leave clothing behind, it's them.
The working couples on long weekends bring their laptops, and leave wine bottles and dog-eared guide books. The destination visitors - including older couples who haven't seen each other in a while are slightly less discreet with their empty lube bottles. They use the bathroses and leave half empty bags of pretzels or chips.
The single professional women wear only new clothes on vacation, I guess. They leave a lot of tags and packaging, and single-serving snack wrappers.
The skiers have yet to be pegged. Mad River Glen got ten inches of snow on Saturday night. In OCTOBER, so I guess I'll learn the skiers soon enough.
