any experience or actual desire to do it
, said a voice that sounded a bit like Dominic’s in my head. I squashed it.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll treat you exactly as we would any intern,’ I said, and shuffled my papers again. ‘So, ah ha! You’re late! Don’t be late again! Sit down and let’s get on with the meeting.’
Helen looked at me a bit oddly and made a
stop shuffling the papers
gesture. I guessed it had come out less amusingly than it had sounded in my head.
‘Joe?’ Gemma was tilting her head. ‘I’m taking minutes, but if you’d like to take minutes in the future, as part of your shadowing experience, you only have to say.’
‘Thank you,’ said Joe. ‘But I have no idea how you’d even start doing that.’
‘I can show you,’ she said, getting up eagerly. ‘It’s very easy …’
I coughed. ‘Gemma, if you could minute for today. Joe, have a seat, and we’ll get started. Lots to get through.’
He sat down and I noticed that both Helen and Gemma started fiddling with their hair. Even Helen, whose hair was usually so neatly hair-sprayed it could withstand both kitchen flood and chef meltdown.
‘Normally in these meetings we have a discussion about what’s coming up in the longer-term diary, as well as the weddings booked in for the next few weeks,’ I began briskly. ‘It should give you an idea of the sort of workload we manage on a daily basis.’
I was hoping that mention of workload would be enough to put off Joe and his ‘wilderness experience’ background, but he just leaned back in his chair, crossed his long legs and started to inspect the plate of biscuits Helen had brought with her from Delphine’s pastry room.
‘So, first of all, the headline news is that Flora Thornbury will be coming in at the end of the week to discuss her potential wedding with us next June. This could be a milestone wedding for us, because as you know, Flora’s just landed the big Marks and Spencer contract, so please can we make sure that everything is absolutely spot on and camera-ready, in case Flora’s taking photos. We might end up on her Instagram feed or something.’
Gemma made an
ooh
noise as her pen flew across the page.
‘We’ll be treating her in exactly the same way we would any other potential bride at the Bonneville,’ I went on, ‘which is to say, as if she’s the only bride marrying in our hotel. It’s a very important part of our wedding ethos,’ I added, more to Joe than to the others, who’d heard this many times before, ‘that we make the bride feel as if she’s stepping into her own private venue from the moment we begin to plan her big day. We don’t ever refer to any other weddings taking place, or make any sort of comparisons.’
Joe’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought the aim of building the weddingservice was to make make this into the most
popular
place in London?’
‘Exactly.’ I nodded.
‘So presumably brides
want
to know that lots of other very fashionable people have got married here?’
‘Word of mouth is our best advert, yes.’
‘So why are you pretending she’s the only bride you’re looking after?’
I stopped. There was a certain –
male
– logic to that. ‘Well, because all brides want to feel they’re special. A bride chooses the Bonneville because she’s heard our weddings are super-elegant and sophisticated and romantic. And she wants to know she’s choosing a trusted venue. But once she’s here, we want to make her feel as if she’s the only bride in the world.’
Joe looked confused. Or possibly ‘confused’; I couldn’t imagine what was confusing about what I’d just said. ‘But I don’t get why you’d even pretend. Isn’t it better to be really honest and upfront about it from the start?’
‘There’s honesty and there’s wedding honesty,’ I said.
‘And what does that mean?’
‘As in, “Pale green doesn’t suit all bridesmaids”,’ Gemma supplied helpfully, ‘as opposed to, “You look
, said a voice that sounded a bit like Dominic’s in my head. I squashed it.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll treat you exactly as we would any intern,’ I said, and shuffled my papers again. ‘So, ah ha! You’re late! Don’t be late again! Sit down and let’s get on with the meeting.’
Helen looked at me a bit oddly and made a
stop shuffling the papers
gesture. I guessed it had come out less amusingly than it had sounded in my head.
‘Joe?’ Gemma was tilting her head. ‘I’m taking minutes, but if you’d like to take minutes in the future, as part of your shadowing experience, you only have to say.’
‘Thank you,’ said Joe. ‘But I have no idea how you’d even start doing that.’
‘I can show you,’ she said, getting up eagerly. ‘It’s very easy …’
I coughed. ‘Gemma, if you could minute for today. Joe, have a seat, and we’ll get started. Lots to get through.’
He sat down and I noticed that both Helen and Gemma started fiddling with their hair. Even Helen, whose hair was usually so neatly hair-sprayed it could withstand both kitchen flood and chef meltdown.
‘Normally in these meetings we have a discussion about what’s coming up in the longer-term diary, as well as the weddings booked in for the next few weeks,’ I began briskly. ‘It should give you an idea of the sort of workload we manage on a daily basis.’
I was hoping that mention of workload would be enough to put off Joe and his ‘wilderness experience’ background, but he just leaned back in his chair, crossed his long legs and started to inspect the plate of biscuits Helen had brought with her from Delphine’s pastry room.
‘So, first of all, the headline news is that Flora Thornbury will be coming in at the end of the week to discuss her potential wedding with us next June. This could be a milestone wedding for us, because as you know, Flora’s just landed the big Marks and Spencer contract, so please can we make sure that everything is absolutely spot on and camera-ready, in case Flora’s taking photos. We might end up on her Instagram feed or something.’
Gemma made an
ooh
noise as her pen flew across the page.
‘We’ll be treating her in exactly the same way we would any other potential bride at the Bonneville,’ I went on, ‘which is to say, as if she’s the only bride marrying in our hotel. It’s a very important part of our wedding ethos,’ I added, more to Joe than to the others, who’d heard this many times before, ‘that we make the bride feel as if she’s stepping into her own private venue from the moment we begin to plan her big day. We don’t ever refer to any other weddings taking place, or make any sort of comparisons.’
Joe’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought the aim of building the weddingservice was to make make this into the most
popular
place in London?’
‘Exactly.’ I nodded.
‘So presumably brides
want
to know that lots of other very fashionable people have got married here?’
‘Word of mouth is our best advert, yes.’
‘So why are you pretending she’s the only bride you’re looking after?’
I stopped. There was a certain –
male
– logic to that. ‘Well, because all brides want to feel they’re special. A bride chooses the Bonneville because she’s heard our weddings are super-elegant and sophisticated and romantic. And she wants to know she’s choosing a trusted venue. But once she’s here, we want to make her feel as if she’s the only bride in the world.’
Joe looked confused. Or possibly ‘confused’; I couldn’t imagine what was confusing about what I’d just said. ‘But I don’t get why you’d even pretend. Isn’t it better to be really honest and upfront about it from the start?’
‘There’s honesty and there’s wedding honesty,’ I said.
‘And what does that mean?’
‘As in, “Pale green doesn’t suit all bridesmaids”,’ Gemma supplied helpfully, ‘as opposed to, “You look
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