Sometimes, we live in “Crazy Land.” “Crazy Land” is where people talk nonsense to you, and to stay in the game, we talk nonsense right back. Consider the following:
A few days before my trip to the Ranch we received an email reporting that they had found the pillow we had left there on our previous visit. I immediately call them, preferring to talk to an actual person than engage in Internet exchanges that may or may not get through, I have experienced both. I request that they put the newly discovered pillow in my room, so it will be there when I arrive, and they assure me they will.
I arrive at the Ranch, I go into my room – the one close to the lounge but they moved the lounge – and the first thing I am aware of is –
After visiting the inoperative lounge, I proceed to the Concierge office (which was next to the temporary, further-from-my-room “Replacement Lounge” – I do not easily dismiss grievances – where I report that the pillow they had assured me would be in my room was, in fact, not currently in my room.
After some keyboard-tapping investigation I am regretfully informed that the unearthed pillow was, once again, missing.
“You mean the pillow you said you found is lost again?” I inquire, trying to piece things together and embarrass them at the same time, which is not nice but I have a traditionally low threshold for perceived (and possibly actual) incompetence.
Here’s the thing, though. And I am sorry for holding this back so long, but it helps immeasurably with the story.
We had absolutely no recollection of leaving a pillow at the Ranch.
When they informed us they had found our pillow, we had no idea what they were talking about.
We do have two small cylindrical pillows, which, when traveling, we invariably carry along. But we have both of them in our house. We double-checked in our bedroom – “One”, Two”. How does one account for the loss of one of the two pillows that are currently sitting on your bed?
I am uncharacteristically speechless.
Why did we then not tell the Ranch personnel that the third pillow doesn’t exist? Because they thought it did. In fact, they had, temporarily, found it.
Maybe we were mistaken. Maybe there was such a pillow. And if there, in fact, was one…
We wanted it back!
I mean, hey, it was our pillow!
(You see what I mean by “Crazy Land”?)
A few days into my stay, there is a letter stuffed into my mailbox. It’s from the “Concierge Coordinator” and it says, in part,
“I am truly sorry to confirm that we were unable to locate your pillow, so sorry. However, we would like to replace it, if it’s not too much to ask…can you stop by the Concierge office to provide brand, size and other relevant details so can go ahead and buy it.”
“Brand, size and other relevant details” for a pillow that we are virtually certain doesn’t exist.
What world am I in?
It’s like playing ping-pong without a ball, and yet assiduously keeping score.
I did not go to the Concierge office. It is not in me to describe in relevant detail a pillow that exists only in the minds of the people who lost it. Besides, on the same day I received this “Alice In Wonderland” letter from the Concierge office, an expensive hairbrush I had definitely brought along – I made sure with a confirming phone call – disappeared, and despite my most diligent efforts, I was – and am still – unable to find it.
With understandable trepidation, I report the lost hairbrush to the Concierge office. They now have two mysteries on their hands: a lost hairbrush I know actually exists, and a lost pillow that – let’s say generously – may not.
At this point, I would be happy to get back one of them.