Maid in Mahattan - NOT
I’m Rachel Goodman, and just like J Lo, i’m a hotel maid. Only not in the Big Apple.
I actually work for an upscale hotel in New York state, which I guess is close enough. Problem is, it’s nearer to the polluted smog of New Jersey that the allure of Manhattan’s upper east end.
Yesterday, I was reading the case of the IMF chief attacking a hapless maid who happened to clean his room while he stepped out of the shower naked. While everyone’ crying foul over the alleged sexual assault on the girl, my only reaction is: did none of you know?
Being a maid assigned to the top penthouse units, I’ve had my fair share of such calls. And the truth is, they happen more often than whats reported in the news. I remember one time I was tasked to deliver breakfast to this hotshot who just flew in from Las Vegas. The guy was the epitome of 80’s excess: siderburns, thick moustache, and open shirts that revealed his shirt hair. As a I bringing in the tray, Mr. 80’s “happened” to just come back from the shower, totally naked. While he stood there with his dripping wet schlong, he told me to bring the tray to the bedroom and asked me if I would like to join him, which I politely declined.
There are lots of other such incidents I’d rather not mention, from the morbidly overweight guy who needed a tummy tuck to the pasty white British banker who thought his accent was a turn on for any girl, even if they were half his age.
I actually work for an upscale hotel in New York state, which I guess is close enough. Problem is, it’s nearer to the polluted smog of New Jersey that the allure of Manhattan’s upper east end.
Yesterday, I was reading the case of the IMF chief attacking a hapless maid who happened to clean his room while he stepped out of the shower naked. While everyone’ crying foul over the alleged sexual assault on the girl, my only reaction is: did none of you know?
Being a maid assigned to the top penthouse units, I’ve had my fair share of such calls. And the truth is, they happen more often than whats reported in the news. I remember one time I was tasked to deliver breakfast to this hotshot who just flew in from Las Vegas. The guy was the epitome of 80’s excess: siderburns, thick moustache, and open shirts that revealed his shirt hair. As a I bringing in the tray, Mr. 80’s “happened” to just come back from the shower, totally naked. While he stood there with his dripping wet schlong, he told me to bring the tray to the bedroom and asked me if I would like to join him, which I politely declined.
There are lots of other such incidents I’d rather not mention, from the morbidly overweight guy who needed a tummy tuck to the pasty white British banker who thought his accent was a turn on for any girl, even if they were half his age.