Ritz stories: waterfall

I arrived at 5:40 amid a flurry of brownshirts--security agents running all over. The main kitchen is closed down--nobody could make it in through the foot-plus of snow. But between my supervisor saying "86 buffet" and actually striking it, I checked in the dark kitchen, in the dark walk-in, and found the speed rack laden with organic berries, smoked salmon, shaved meats, house-blended fruit yogurts, and freshly baked pastries. (Talk about bliss: imagine staggering around at 6:00 AM, bleary and groggy, and somehow making it into a room where a team of professionals has been baking bagels, muffins, and croissants for hours. Oh, to wrap up in warmth with almond croissants, apple turnovers, banana-walnut-raisin-carrot muffins, chocolate croissants, and donuts.)

We have an all-hands rally call: the takeout area of the hotel flooded; we should expect double business.
While awaiting the throngs, I walked over: imagine walking up to an indoor waterfall while it's snowing outside. A water main blew.

Thrice, from three disparate individuals, I heard: "They said it will take two to three days. I walked over, and it'll take two to three weeks."

Amazing what you learn when the plaster is in place.