Let me introduce myself - my name is Harriet (Harry) Harrison-Pedipocket. I own the Baron Frobisher Hotel with my evil twin brother, Marmaduke Argyle Harrison. He's not really evil, I just like to call him that to piss him off. That happens on a fairly regular basis. The two of us were raised in this hotel. My parents had us learn all the workings of it from the ground up. When they died in a plane crash five years ago, we inherited this ancient massive pile of brick and stone. I love the hotel. Marmaduke hates it almost as much as his name. He insists I call him Duke, but I always call him Marmaduke to his face to piss him off. It doesn't take much, actually. When I'm not around him I refer to him as Duke. It's easier.
On paper, Duke officially runs the business of the hotel from the basement up. In actuality, Henry Jameson the head concierge runs it with some input through phone calls and emails from my brother. Duke only shows up at the hotel when there's a a high profile meeting with the stock holders. Other than that, he lives on a small private island in the caribbean. When he can't be reached, Henry turns to me as a last resort.
I run the day-to-day workings of the Activity Centre which occupies the entire basement. I like it there among the young well muscled men who work out in the full size gym. I don't get to spend too much time in the there, though. I've been banned from any unsupervised visits. Dan Carruthers the in-house personal trainer/instructor won't let me near the equipment. It wasn't entirely my fault that a guest got caught up in the rowing machine's mechanism and broke her leg. I didn't fall on top of her as she claims, I just nudged her a little.
I can't help it if I'm clumsy. It's an inner ear thing affecting my balance, I think. Dan and Duke think I simply don't pay attention to what I'm doing. I do pay attention, but not at one thing at a time. If I'm at the pool, I'm checking on hairdresser appointments for guests. If I'm at the gym, I'm liable to be scheduling lifeguard shifts. If I'm in the sauna/massage department, I'm going through catalogues for updating the gym equipment. It's just one of the things that annoy my brother about me, even when I'm not trying to. He says I'm hopeless. I say it's part of my charm.
On this day, I get stuck (yet again) going round and round in the lobby's big revolving main door. I don't even notice at first, because I'm writing down a list of floral displays that have to go up to the banquet room for the cocktail party tonight. They were made by guests in the flower arranging class downstairs, this morning.
I hate revolving doors. They are the nemesis of people with less than perfect timing and balance. One of these days I'm going to gain access to the inner machinery of this revolving monster, and pull its guts out. Then my cheap brother will have to install a normal door.