The Silent Symphony of Service

In the serene embrace of the hotel, a young man stood at the dawn of his service odyssey; his role whispered like the secrets carried on the evening zephyr. The quietude of the front office spun tales as complex as the drapes adorning its walls; each folds a guardian of stories yet to be told.

Dasgupta, the custodian of this silent stage, carried the grace of eras gone by, his every motion a tribute to the travellers who meandered through. The lad, his voice trembling like a fragile leaf in a soft breeze, sought his place in this muted ballet of unspoken customs, his “Sir” echoing the formalities of a different epoch. Dasgupta’s face, a testament to steadfast devotion, was a mask that hid more than it revealed, prompting the youth to retreat to his nook, where the telex machines murmured the secret longings of trade.

As guests arrived, their notes hastily written, the lad’s task was to give voice to these silent envoys, propelling them into the void via the teleprinter. The local telecom’s fee of Dirhams 15 was a mere shadow compared to the hotel’s charge of Dirhams 29, a mute tribute to the luxury that time commands.

Yet, Dasgupta conducted this symphony of transactions, and the lad was merely a shadow in the grand performance. When the moment for gratuity came, Dasgupta’s hands twirled with the skill of a seasoned conjurer, the Dirham note disappearing into his coat as if by enchantment, leaving the lad none the wiser. Sharing the same years as the young man’s father, Dasgupta held an aura that discouraged any thought of dispute, prompting the young man to devise a plan to devise a plan s obstacle quietly.

Eventually, the lad saw the understated dance of tip manipulation through the adult facade. He realised his role was to toil while Dasgupta reaped the rewards. Unlike the hotel’s collective spirit of shared tips, Dasgupta was the puppeteer, and his sweet words were a pretence to safeguard the lad. Yet, the lad’s beaming smile and fluent English captivated the guests, his youthful energy disguising the speed and skill with which he served.

Two weeks later, the lad reigned over the office alone, his proficiency shining as he manoeuvred the telex with the familiarity found in the pages of a beloved book. He became a vortex of efficiency, transforming scribbled notes into swift transmissions, saving both time and money for the patrons. His technical savvy was a quiet revolt against the old guard.

Another figure stepped forth into this complex charade of respect and cunning within the hotel’s front office: Menon. Older than the lad by a few years, Menon assumed the mantle of authority, a guise that deceived many. He was not the ruler, yet he commanded influence in the play of subdued whispers and veiled truths.

Menon, a control maestro, exerted power over Dasgupta, establishing a reign of sway that left the elder in a silent tremor. With the lad’s arrival, the office’s dynamics shifted like the sands of the desert. Menon and Dasgupta, a duo of guile and expertise, recognised the lad’s brilliance. Yet, they pondered his youth — was it a cloak of innocence that could be shaped to their advantage?

Unaware of the silent struggle unfolding, the lad continued to master the telex and telecommunications with the elegance of a virtuoso. His fingers glided over the keys; his mind was as sharp as a scalpel. Menon observed, his mind brewing with schemes. Could this young prodigy be a pawn in their chess game? Or would he be the one to alter the rules in a world where every move is pivotal and every participant a potential challenger? The narrative endures, each character ready, waiting for the next play in this grand saga of life and ambition.

The lad played along with this masquerade, knowing his destiny lay beyond the city’s sandy embrace. He saved his wages but gathered the tips he now earned when alone in the office. With these tips, he indulged in a stereo, a gold chain, stylish attire, shoes, a watch, and gifts for his family — his parents and siblings

He was aware that his tenure at the hotel was fleeting. He understood it wasn’t long before he could leave the hotel job behind and venture forth.

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