The One Actor That I Did Not Know

The One Actor That I Did Not Know

(3576 words)

Who knew?
Schlemiel? Schlimazel? Hasenpfeffer Incorporated! Cindy Williams was a 'black' out and not a 'public' eye individual that most Americans misconstrued the character as being so different a subject. A persona shared by many in their field, like that of, "I'll Be There For You," David Schwimmer. A lobby of adoring fans quickly evolves or dissolves into unadorned and disappointing fans faced with faces behind dark sunglasses. Then there is the infamous opened newspaper or a coffee cup held at camera-click levels, which catapults to that quick dash to the elevator passing by many signless autograph books. They are fortunate not to bear witness as I and fellow employees in the midst are left with the fallout and repercussions of the many rifling throughout a hotel lobby looking for desperate alternatives. 'Hotel' postcard next to our postage stamp machine, grabbing hotel pens, and finally--ME--the deliverer ... I had to look behind to see if 'Moses' was there. A preteen boy left a huge photo of himself, about half his size, rolled up to have Michael Jackson sign it. I had a bellman take it up--and that could NOT have been Tom Hanks, as I recalled he's been with Spielberg about some military show (Saving Private Ryan) as this was early in 1997. That show came out in the succeeding year of 1998. Now as for Michael Jackson, It was a comeback for him as he went into the twilight or limelight from the stage for nearly a decade. What enabled my astute awareness of subjects in their approach to my person?

Having earned my minor degrees in,
sociology, psychology, and theology, and my BA's in Hotel & Resort Management and Business Sales & Economics, at 19 years old. My school records which were held by my parents, have now been in my possession since their passing, and they are the only records known. The school has my attendance records as a tutor for classmates two to three years my senior. During my final so-called senior year, doubling as a High Schooler and 1st year AA Collegian/Uni-kid, during the computer-less era, yet despite that clueless factor, I slam dunk preliminaries of my pre-college enrollment requisitions, not to mention my high school graduation requirements that needed a score of 18 points--my score was 21. I was asked to graduate at the beginning of classes, with documentation, and a fare thee well. My parents refused in favor of their son being seen walking down the graduating aisle of our family alma mater. Unbeknownst to me, a brew of ulterior anti-forces was amiss or awry in the school haul wings. Under the auspices of the State School System, they possessed the ability to maneuver certain subjects that were aligned with their objective goals, permanently congruous to the ballot box like some umbilical cord, whereby, they empowered native Hawaiians an upper hand in the roleplay of proper fitting (hints from my other Short Story, "White Lies") into the entitlements of the American Society and be a part of and not 'A'part from the upper crust, but bear its form, by committal of their final obligations having concocted Eve's Apple ... ate I the core. First, the leap in High School, second, the course through Community Colleges and Universities as there were three campuses I had attended in a little over two years. I didn't minor, but I did semester classes, in German/1st Fall, Spanish/1st Spring, French/1st Summer, Russian/2nd Fall, Japanese/2nd Spring, Finals/2nd Summer. Consequently, the Trifecta manifested in the end, ... in the form of two lifetimes--employers.

Retraction to redefine points of reference,
back mid-1976 thereabouts. The State School System was advised in early May that I would not pursue my Master's. They were also keenly aware that I was less than half a semester shy of a Bachelor's Degree, but my parents declined their offer to complete a 1976 Fall semester. That May, as the school year ended, I continued without professors but with assignments that eventually led to my final examinations sometime in August, however, I finished my finals in the third week of July after learning I would be interviewed by my first employer at their corporate office on the east coast, and shortly after, my second employer at their corporate office on the west coast. I also learned how the school system was so obliging in the course of my future, and that of my cousin, who also happens to be Hawaiian. She was also given the push through the school system like me, but an unforeseeable turn of events occurred back at school. She was failing the obstacle course, not in line with their expectations. Yet, we both graduated early from high school. Though I didn't see her at the campuses, knowing what I know, I will not know for nearly our lifetime, the course of events that was to be her destiny. Living thousands of miles away, and coming back home, mostly for funerals from where I met my cousin and learned how the school system helped her. The school and others under the sun--no shadows, no hiding, it's Hawaii--helped me with two lifetime corporate hoteliers, and her lifetime employer ... was the school, ever since we graduated early, back in 1974. My parents were proud to see their son--and cousin, walk down the aisle, and become martyrs (wordplay on alma mater), of our family school. Assured administrative, legislative, judicial, congressional, of course, educational ... shook our hands, (oh, consequential invites for those backroom meetings) smiling at us--their Tree of Knowledge, as they left The Good, The Evil returned to their seats for several more years. Now back to the summer of 1976. The last week of July, I was back in California and started my employment with Hilton in the Bay Area in the last week of August. Tom Hanks just turned 20 that August and my 19th birthday came on the first week of September, whereto, shortly after my birthday, I received the results of my finals that officially ended my ties to the school system. I was 18 when I began my lifetime employment, and I was 19 when I graduated beyond the school system.

There are legitimate reasons,
why does somebody perform in front of an audience, having no known familial ties to act out from themselves and assume a whole new persona and mannerisms, aspects of body language? Then sensing that achievement as a mere step towards some financial, lessen burdensome destination. A job and not a hurdle through an obstacle course, as a startled family member may guffaw, "Where did that come from?" Embarrassing moments, personal space--balancing autonomy--time out, peace of mind, security, trust issues, or other issues where privacy is the least. As I was checking in The Commodores, Lionel Richie, an incident had disrupted our discourse which I excused myself. Our telephone operators are assigned a list that accommodates groups--particularly, celebrities. That will keep the operators abreast of whether or not to put calls through, but it needs verification. One of the members from The Heatwave eludes cooperation eliciting a suggestive undertone. As they were my next check-in, I relieved her list and had her return to her station. I did at first, excuse my interruption with that guest and that the phone lines were busy and unmanned, however, once I completed processing Mr. Richie--suddenly, someone uncustomarily snaps his fingers altering my to attentions to Lionel, who then stated that he had the keys and that they were good to go. "Yes, our bellman will take you to your rooms," I replied. Advents upon return, a simple reminder and not a reprimand, that we are a five-star, and not six like a motel. Should I find myself in Beverly Hills, 'twill be in my best interest to pick up Tom and save me a buck of The Map to the Stars? I would not be surprised if he had me drive to Los Angeles's famous, Griffith Observatory.

Most of my guests are corporate leads,
and my first was none other than, The Jackson Five. I was one week new on the job, then--still 18--handled a few guests, as I learned the ropes of the hotel's various department functions and their contributing factors to the hotel. Tom Hanks bellhoping then turning 20, while I'm keeping my jaw tightened, in approach of me, a kid about my age with a nice afro that is in style, says, "I'm Michael Jackson." Pleasantries were exchanged as my assistant dropped the room key, and as I maintained eye contact with Mr. Jackson, "My assistant is briefly detained (to sway his watch from behind my back making hand gestures to the clerk), our bellhop there will take you and your luggage to your suite." His mother calls for his attention and asks Michael to ask me if all their rooms are available. Three of our bellhops had managed their belongings, whereto, one of them coordinated the other two as to how they can best improve handling the likes of the Jackson family to their suites that will guarantee their gratifications will be excessive. I'd wonder who that be. Hmm, a terse test. The clerk was apologetic and I told her (55 years old) that apologies are better seen than heard. She reminded me of our exchange the day of my permanent departure and that she'll never forget it. I told her that a minor incident was promptly attended hence the issue went unnoticed, in a nutshell, action speaks louder than words. In parting on their last day, I told them Aloha, and Michael being of closer proximity turned and said he had an inkling that I'd be Hawaiian. I further asked Michael if there were quite a few Hawaiians back in Gary. He amusingly said, "There is that, quite ... a few, sadly," he says--minus the amusing contours of his facade. [I will tell you how I brought that back to Michael]. Later, my next unexpected of many, at times, corporate errors--was one of those typical walk-ins that a five-star hotel would attract. He is none other than Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys--just by himself. Divulging that 1976 be his year of resurrection. A suite beckons, but alas--it's inherently secular. Mayhaps it should have been the other, then he would not had put a ring on hallucinations. Goodbye Mr. Wilson, and look out for that speed bump ahead.

At the other hotel,
Roberta Flack was with her young daughter at an inoperable ice machine near her suite, where I informed her to head back to her suite and return with ice and have maintenance service the matter. On my return a few minutes later with a bucket of ice from another floor, they stood out in the hallway of their suite, where she said that she forgot the room keys. I notified a maid down the hall to unlock the room for them. In reflection, why at this five-star hotel several miles out and not the Hilton, where their performance or attendance, are a few blocks away? They were to be her waning years as the early 70s was her heyday and in 1976, the lights behind her were flickering. Back at the Hilton, my next corporate lead after the Jackson family, was Mackenzie Phillips, of "One Day At A Time. A popular sitcom at the time in which she played one of the four main characters, albeit, she played her character 62% of the time while three played their characters 100% of the show's episodes. She stayed with us for a few days with her entourage of coed friends. She was checking out while her friends waited nearby in the lobby. She came refinely dressed as a bag lady being my best guess. It was in line with her demeanor, seemingly antsy, and a peppy sort, who was persistent in providing me her autograph. After a trail of failed decline, I yielded and told her to address it to my sister Lisa. Her vitality inked the full length of the page and she was loud of her inscriptions of it. She stated while writing, "One day it'll be your time, Love Always, Mackenzie Phillips, To my adoring fan, Lisa--spelled, W-i-l-l-i ...,"--my name tag gave me away to the slipperiest eel that perpetually evades my history of it--but, "... and to his lovely sister, Lisa."

Be mindful that at a young age,
managing two competitive contractors simultaneously from 1976-1980 (for the most part--*while juggling) causation; via my suggested stipulation that time is accorded in my favor as a salaried clientele, *while juggling other assigned properties during engaged interims, upon my acceptance of said assignments that does exceed nor recede from, my abilities and or skills. *The juggling methodology had me at the Caribe Hilton, in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It was due to a strike where management needed my services. That'll fundamentally be the basis of most of my contractual obligations if I accept. Whenever I am assigned to properties over fifty miles from my home (should I by choice), and distance becomes a factor, transportation and accommodations will be provided for me. Destination point, from my home to my assignment, and back to my home. Usually, a limo drives me to the airport where I seat 1st Class. A waiting limo drives me to my assignment. I will be assigned rooms (generally Junior Suites or higher) at said properties, and since my title forbids my presence in the employee lounge, I sit in the hotel's five-star restaurants and lounge, or room service (my preferred choice). That latter part also affects the interim properties where I am not in want of a room, I therefore, resigned myself to their restaurants, and not their lounges. At the Caribe Hilton, Spanish is helpful, especially when watching John Wayne movies on their TVs. Managing the front desk was a breeze, as there were no corporate leads there that required my attention, and as my contract reads, the Caribe Hilton's front desk manager doubled as their bellhop. He also brought my bags to my room and left the restaurant and banquet managers in charge of the front desk until we returned to relieve them.

In my sociology book chapter one,
entitled, 'Body Language.' As a corporate contract hire, I am positioned in profiled five-star hotels that attract the rich and famous, and when, my skills are required--a constant reason for my presence. Hoteliers are keen to alienate their operatives once they've established that their confidence levels have been met. My youth, and enthusiasm for initiating an optimistic balance from behind the desk with fellow employees, both union and management and accentuating a similar repoire beyond the front of the desk, greatly influenced guest loyalty and satisfaction. Body language and tabloids as computers were clamoring from somebody's garage on the Westbay of the Greater San Francisco Bay Area. Steve Jobs seemed to fill an advisory capacity, and Stephen Wozniak, the inventor of 'Apple,' held little interest in paperwork, afoot in April, a third of 1976. I will have the pleasure of making my acquaintance with the two, Steve and Stephen, in 1980 at my secondary interim hotel, just 'ere their impending idiosyncrasies. I started in the Accommodative Industry on the Eastbay, in mid-1976 as the Hotel Accommodations Specialist. I perform more than I assist, in all managerial posts and seldom oversee union workers, as it was a personal choice. Alas, twas full of wholes, for therein lies a twist. I recall that matter of, "my repoire behind that desk with management and union employees"--unfound on paper were the gaps I persuaded by mere existence. Linguistic translator: numero uno, numéro un, ichi ban, nummer eins, and, nomer odin. Those familiar with linguistics, being newly taught, occasionally find terms lacking, and vociferation comes up to bat, as a new word adds to their vocabulary sounding so remarkably English, or American, or foreign. In defining my title I duly accentuate my presence by beckoning reasons from the mundane. At every opportunity, I extend our hospitality ... forgivably, at the establishment's expense. Whether it be a cup of coffee or an entire family meal--if it is one, or the cost of a night's stay, maybe entirely. I recall, "confidence levels were met," so I tender courtesies with our compliments hoping to unshackle their smiles. Also, a beneficiary who'll escort them and their bags out our lobby doors--with a bigger gratuity. You're welcome, Tom.

In 1979 or 1980,
I played Asteroids on one of the game tables in our hotel lobby as the temporary babysitter of a kid who specified himself as Canada's (future) Prime Minister, Justin's group, saying he's 7 or 8 years old (I can't recall). There were other kids in the group, and not all had diplomatic family ties other than being friends with those who were tied to the diplomats. The foreign children's ages varied from weaning to driving. I processed the diplomatic core while fellow employees handled the families traveling with them. As for the children, they were names on a list, with that said, my knowledge of this young boy is based on trust and I did not pursue an answer to validate that he is the son of Canada's Prime Minister, particularly, out in the open of a five-star hotel lobby--with talking birds. The families made the lobby an essential place for socializing. It was quite buoyantly lively, as were birds in equal favor. As for Justin, if he is to be so, oddly enough the circumstances have him holding all four aces. Gender, age, name, and reasonable cause to be present, therefore I took him for his word as plausible and with the power bestowed upon me as representative of this establishment, that gave me sufficient cause to notify the proper authorities, and that brings two of Canada's finest whose duty is to protect and defend their fellow Canadian citizens at the expend of their very own lives. Ah, this must be them, albeit, they look like rejects from the armed forces who dress like hippies. Five-star hotels have a dress code that matches Presidential greenery along with Franklin. My advisory to them was that I already left my station behind the front desk and would constantly be by the side of the lil' crown prince who'll occupy my diligence until Franklin rescues him. I've not made such a suggestion, other than one of the rescuers unclenched his handshaking hippie hands that particular surprise, hence my statement after the fact. He says, "Yes, he is with us, thank you." "It was my pleasure to be of service," concluding the exchange with a smile. Gratuities seldom me, other than Tom Hanks, but I never over-ingratiate myself as a former pet owner in my later years, the picture of a dog's wagging tail and a cat's arched back, reminds me of Tom, and for that ... reasoned my smile.

I mentioned,
that the above personality in my "Refining consciousness" that I submitted as a contest entry. Therein, I stated that my fellow employee, Tom Hanks, divulged the fact that he submitted my poem that had circulated behind the hotel desk of employees. The poem entitled, "The Collection Plate," was on a cover letter and an unsigned contract along with a $132 check at an annual adjusted inflation period of 3.6% since 1976-77.Written into that contract, the only revision necessary would be to the title accommodating their subscribers as appealing. Insomuch that the integrity of the poem along with its lighthearted nature, and religious aspects, will not be misconstrued as vulgar and risque, in any way, shape, or form. The individual sponsoring this campaign represented a popular national magazine at the time and had stated that upon receipt of the signed contract, my poem would be placed in circulation, simultaneously. Larry Flint of "Hustler" magazine.

Either you do your best,
or you do your worst, and there's nothing wrong with that because you're admitting that you are human that's capable of making flaws. There is a point that needs to be said, besides worst and admitted flaws. Make it effort to say it, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Because if you don't give it a name, then not only it doesn't exist, then neither do you. When you give it a name, it exists, and the act that made that happen, caused you to be. I face the guest knowing that my backers will be supportive. We put our best efforts forward, and when we fail, it's a reminder of needed improvements, and to maintain. Now back to my memorable exchange before he left the fan-banned lobby. I told Michael that their ResCard showed an Encino address and not Gary, Indiana. I said, "How do the Hawaiians number there in the San Fernando Valley area?" Michael said that the numbers in Encino are not much different than Gary's. I said, "That bad, huh ... well if there's any consolation Michael, keeping to those numbers, I am the only Hawaiian here." That is what brought on Michael's hidden chuckle as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth, "Blessings Michael."

"A trice of many profits my investment well earned with immeasurable interest that yielded once in a lifetime journey on ... "The Road Not Taken," by anybody else but me."

... and CHEERS, to the actor I never knew.

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