At hand

I don't think I've mentioned, in my sparse recent postings, that I recently traveled to Chicago for a three-day art history conference (one of the reasons, in fact, for the sparseness of postings of late). And therefore, I don't think I've mentioned, either, that I wound up, due to the whimsy of Hotwire, staying at the Hard Rock Hotel, on the same floor as a display of a 1991 Madonna concert costume. And, as a result, I haven't had a chance to note that, when one stays in the Hard Rock Hotel, one can rent a Gibson guitar for the evening. In fact, the guitars are arranged on a rack right behind the main counter. Need to strum or wail? Just let us know, they tell you when you check in, and we'll have one sent right up.

Which is, it strikes me, somewhat comparable to the situation in our house these days. Cleo, of course, would be the client, and we've tried to anticipate all of her possible whimsies with a range of appropriate toys. Need to chew on something? Hey, try the Whoozit, or the rubber duck. Feel like standing up, with a prop? The Neurosmith cube's right here; just let us know. And so on: in fact, we've even got outfits from 1991 that we, too, can show you, if you're in the mood.

The Hard Rock certainly worked for me; it was close to the conference, affordable, and generally pretty tasteful. In fact, in an exit survey, I was happy to recommend it to other customers of Hotwire. We're still waiting to see how many stars Cleo gives our pink house. But, whatever she decides, we don't expect to be dinged for failing to attend to our client's whimsies. We don't yet have, as the Hard Rock did, the life-sized photo of Styx' lead guitarist in action, and we don't offer tiny bottles of mint-rosemary shampoo. Then again, the Hard Rock Hotel didn't seem to have any music-making monkeys, or squeaky toys, on hand. In this business, you earn your stars by catering to your particular guests.