Hotel Room.

Jack-Vettriano

As hotel rooms go, this one ain’t too bad. 

But really, after all these years, one room looks much like another. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, just trying to get you to understand. 

I like my job. 

I like selling things, and I’m good at it, it’s just that tonight I’m so damn lonely.

Most of the time I like my own company, especially after a full day of glad-handing small town big shots. 

I talk to them all day. 

I make them feel special. 

I make them feel like they are my all time best and favourite customer. 

It’s not as insincere as it sounds. I simply give them something they want; I make them feel good about themselves and I give them respect, and in return they give me orders. Orders that fill up my book and bring me commissions. 

The commissions sit in my bank account and expand my wealth, mostly because I don’t have time to spend it, and even if I did, I don’t have anyone to spend it on.

In my younger days there were girls all across the country. 

It’s not just sailors who have a girl in every port. Traveling salesmen do too, only ours are in every small and large town from here to next week.

These days there are only a few. 

The ones I have known for a long time. 

The ones who want to spend time with me and not just because of my expense account.

One thing my dad taught me was to know when things were changing. 

My life expectancy in this business is limited. 

I’ve been doing this since I got out of the air force at the end of the war. My boss loves me, and why wouldn’t he? I’ve been his top salesman for as long as anyone can remember.

Trouble is, these little towns are dying, and it’s happening so slowly that no one is noticing. 

Funny thing is, none of that worries me. Nothing stays the same forever and I’ve had a pretty good run.

Tonight, I’m feeling my age. It occurs to me that there is more life behind me than there is ahead. I never used to think about this stuff, I was too busy working, too busy getting ahead, but tonight I’m tired and it occurs to me that I don’t have anyone to tell these things to.

There’s just me and this hotel room and for the first time in my life, that’s not enough.

I could sleep, but it’ll be light soon and the train leaves at 6 o’clock, so I might as well just sit here till then.

Everything looks better in the daylight, even hotel rooms.

.

Photo from a painting by Jack Vettriano.

Advertisements

28 thoughts on “Hotel Room.

  1. I wished I had more foresight. I realise how much of my time, MY LIFE I’d given to my job, and before I knew it, in just a blink of an eye, I’m here alone in a hotel room, and with no one to embrace.

    An only son of deceased parents. I have no children (that I know of), no next of kin. It seems that I’ve worked hard for naught, and one day when I’m gone, the government will possess my wealth, and if I’m quick enough, I might just give it all to charity.

    To think that I could’ve had a family of my own to give it all to.

    Serves me right for chasing the dollar.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ah, Terry, love this, nice work, mate! Been a while, eh? Have been pursuing my non-blog writing. Sent off a manuscript to a publisher yesterday. Now to sit back and wait for the rejection slip. Nah, I feel quite positive but one cannot ignore the vast volume of evidence that correctly says one’s chances are slim to negligible. But hope beats eternal. Hope you are well and happy. From your writing, I’d say so. Good!

    Like

    • David, good to hear from you. I’m glad that your absence has been so productive. Exciting news about the manuscript. Now, get your head down and start on the next one. I’ve been struggling a bit but I’m on the up [hence the recent flurry of posts]. I’ve been submitting all over the place [three yeses and 59 nos over the past twelve months]. Novella has been knocked back three times so far but I’m half way through the second one. I thrive on the success of those I admire so I want to know the instant that you get your ‘yes’. Now get back to work!
      Terry

      Like

      • I’m realising how much I have missed your kick-arse attitude, Terry. Wonderful! I can only say that you DO write very well and I and many others really enjoy it so surely success should follow. I really hope so for you.

        Ah, the struggle. I find it’s never far away as we get older and various issues take-on a different slant for us. Just know that your many readers care about what you write – which means ipso facto – they care about you. Blog on, Sunshine.

        Like

    • Thank you, and I agree, it is a sad piece in many ways. I’m glad that you enjoyed it. If it helps at all………….. he caught the six o’clock train and sat next to a woman wearing a beautiful coat. To start with she was reluctant to talk but it was a long journey. They talked and fell slowly, and quietly in love. When he had to alight at his destination, they promised to meet again. She waited for his call and on a warm rainy night she heard her phone ring. It was him, he was in town for a couple of days. He had just told his boss that he was finishing up at the end of the month and would she be interested in, possibly, maybe spending the rest of her life with the former best traveling salesman on the entire east coast? It took her a couple of weeks to think about it [she was not a woman to be rushed] and eventually she said yes. No more hotel rooms, no more 6am trains, just two people who found each other on an interstate journey. And they lived……………………

      Terry

      Like

  3. Wow, that is powerful! I love the image and as I read down, as it’s such an emotive image it stays in the back of my mind while I read.

    Really great story! Thanks for posting!

    Like

I live for comments so..........Please Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s