I had a different sort of a weekend.

In an attempt to achieve 150% on their approval ratings* The Bates Motel, the RC's new employer, offered staff member f&f ** a free night's stay (and a meal, of course) if they'd come, check the place out, interact with the staff, and report back on any inadequacies. I volunteered to play.

Sadly, the RC is very popular with the handful of Managerial Type she supports. I say "sadly" because, no doubt in an attempt to be very, very nice to her f&f, they upgraded me to the Skyway--the nosebleed floor of the Motel where you find such things as the presidential suite and the speshul sekrit concierge club available only to those willing to fork out beaucoup bucks to keep from having to rub elbows with the hoi polloi.

The thing is, you see, in a place that considers outstanding service and amenities to be the starting point for how they operate on a daily business? Once you hit the Skyway level, there are just no inadequacies to report.

I did try. The free food in the speshul sekrit club, I decided, was not precisely hot either of the times I tried it. (Okay, I didn't expect the smoked salmon to be hot. Nor the cheese, although they could have made an effort with the brie--something approaching room temperature would have been enough. But the gourmet pizza should have been at least warm when I bit into it.)

The name tags, I fretted, needed to be bigger. I was supposed to identify the staff members I interacted with, but I draw the line at staring fixedly at women's chests. That's probably not something a "normal" guest would think about, though.

Someone in the restaurant was wearing pants with a raggedy hem and they delivered the wrong newspaper on Sunday morning. That's it. It took me two hours to come up with that much.

I'm not sure the Managerial Types are going to consider that kind of feedback a good return on the rather pricey room bill.

I'm sorry. The big-screen television worked perfectly, the oversized bathroom with separate tub and shower stalls was immaculate, the pillows heaped on the bed were fluffy. I took white socks and walked around the hotel room in them and they did not turn black, so the carpet was clean. The turn-down service was prompt and courteous. All the staff members I interacted with were helpful and smiling--they all looked like they were actually happy to be there.

Did I mention I fell in love? I dined in the restaurant after sampling the lukewarm hors-d'voures--dev'rous--dev'rous--snacks in the speshul sekrit club. Good ambiance, great food, and the cutest little server boy twinkling at me over my modest glass of iced tea and my Caesar salad.

Seriously, I could have just wrapped him up and taken him home with me. He was that delicious. (That's how the server in the restaurant became "someone" with a raggedy hem. At one point, I saw her nametag, but no strange woman's name is going to linger in my mind after I've been grinned at by a sexy guy.***)

Anyhow. Should I ever do such a thing again, I'm going to find a way to make myself a little less pleasant. I'll be a Problem Guest of some kind. You really need to make waves (or at least a few ripples) to find out how deep "great service" goes.

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* Can I just say how much I'd like to work for a company that considers excellence to be the starting point?

* * friends and family

*** Yes, okay, he was mostly just angling for a good tip because I'm old but it was dim in there and I look younger in a dim light and anyhow I'm perfectly happy to hand an attractive man an extra buck or two if he smiles at me with any degree of sincerity.