Working in an old hotel is definitely an experience. Having been in operation for nearly a century, the property I work at is a Spanish-revival throwback to the old west movie days of the 1920s and '30s. It's a neat place; every room is unique, quaint, and furnished and decorated in period style, so it's an easy sell for anyone who wants to take a trip back in time while also not being too far away from satellite TV and WiFi.
However, one thing about travelling back in time to 1920s California; summers are, and always have been, hot. It's California. This property is specifically in the California desert, straddling the border of Death Valley, so it gets pretty hot during the summer months. To remedy this, the hotel installed a state-of-the-art cooling system in 1930 to beat the heat. Our property was featured in the manufacturer's ads because of how impressive the machine was back when it was built.
Then again, it was state-of-the-art in 1930. Since then we've put people on the moon, created a vaccine for polio, built computers that can hold the whole of human knowledge and can make phone calls that fit in your pocket (assuming you're not wearing women's jeans, what's up with that?), and, most importantly to my point, developed modern HVAC systems.
The hotel is centrally heated by steam radiator and centrally cooled by evaporative cooling. That means, while there's heating and cooling, there's no climate control. Half the folks that inquire about rooms scoff at the idea of not having a thermostat of their own; after all, we're in the 21st century, a guest should have their room as balmy or frigid as they please. The other half don't care, so long as there's air, except most of those people end up caring when the realization kicks in that they can't control the heat or cooling.
Most nights, especially around June and September, guests will come down to say their room is too hot or too cold, usually within five minutes of each other and usually within a couple doors of one another. European tourists apparently like to sleep in warm spaces while folks from the US like to sleep cool, and it boggles the mind to think that two rooms that are nigh identical can be both too warm and too cold. It's Schrodinger's room climate. The three bears from Goldilocks come to mind too, because there's more often than not at least one asshole who overhears someone telling the front desk staff the room is too warm/cold and he pipes up with a "Nah, it's juuuuust right! They're super comfy! Gosh I love it here!' before sauntering off to bother someone else.
My job is fine, don't get me wrong, but I do honestly lose sleep over how much I wish I worked in a place where people all could control their room temperature. I daydream about working in a hotel that didn't have a century-old throwback with century-old setbacks. I try to imagine what it must be like to not have to explain that, no, you can't make the air colder, and no, you can't turn it down, and no, you can't make it quieter, and no, we don't have any rooms available in the motel this evening with personal a/c. Maybe it's ghosts making the rooms too cold. Maybe being out in the sun on Mt. Whitney or in Death Valley has tourists roasted so it only seems like the room is too hot.
One thing's for sure; I'm super ready for that two week window where the weather isn't too hot or too cold that neither the heat and cooling have to be on.
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