Memories working in the late 70's in Switzerland. Not a new concept. Anyone who knows faulty Towers has known my boss Mrs. Mueller.

Gilly

Serving with Frau Mueller  
Mrs. Mueller, that is Frau Mueller, was an incredibly unhappy woman. Although I knew her only some weeks, and even though she seemed to regard me with some sort of ‘THAT-AMERICAN-BOY-WITH-NO-CLASS’ contempt, I still felt myself very protective towards her. She was after all, my employer.
            I believe it was her Aunt, Frauline Audermat , who I first met when I was hunting for work.
            Mrs. Mueller’s Aunt hired me, at least she led me down the path of beginning a job for a second season in the Bernese Oberland. I was never very out going, not to the degree of hunting for a new area for each year, finding new faces, new places and so on. No, the plan to stay in familiar grounds in the same village after one somewhat uneventful year was plenty for a challenge. Frauline Audermat, was a lovely woman, though I wouldn’t say to look at, but overwhelmed you with her kindness. She wore thick glasses, but the kind that made any plain looking person look worse than before. She had one of those genuine smiles that made you forget her very basic look. Now Mrs. Mueller on the other hand who was only 11 years older than me, (I was 21) who also wasn’t  so pleasant had actually all the potential. She had beautiful long blonde hair, dirty blond, (as I call it). However far more noticeable was her inability to interact with people.
            In the begining when we served our Hotel Guest I drove her nuts with questions, as I do to this day when confronted with new areas, of responcibility. I remember her one day screaming at me not to bother her anymore. I admit it. I never know I’m driving someone nuts. I eventually find out too late.
            On one particular morning I was serving my guest, Christmas Morning to be exact. The American woman at table number 12 had that sort of cheerful sound that only someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth can have.
            “Good Morning! And how are you?”
            I of course could say hardly anything. This was due to the incredible hangover from the night before. Still, I managed the necessary answer. I held my breath slightly and let the air out with “I am fine, just a little tired, Thank you.”
            She was at her table with her baby boy who was still in a high seat. He must have been less than a year, but thank God wasn’t crying, not yet. Baby’s are never simply not crying. It’s only that they are having a pause. Mrs. Mueller called me over to the office which is where we pick up drinks and meals though one might also pick up a word from their boss when he or she saw fit.
            In the short time of know Mrs. Mueller, (the winter season had started on the 17th of December)I had come to know her look of absolute hate. I’ve never understood where it came from.
            “Eric, just what do you think you are doing?”
            I remember thinking once again I missed something, and perhaps it was even important, but honestly I was stumped.
            “Mitko has just prepared this tray for the guest at table 9. The one you just ordered before you spoke to the lady at table 12. He still isn’t sure if you wanted a white coffee or a coffee with cream!”
            “Oh yes, that’s right,” I said,” The man at number 9 just told me. He said to make it white coffee and to make it for two. His sister is coming down. Is this why you called me?”
            She told me it was.
            “Oh, by the way and a single coffee for the American Lady at ….”
            “NUMBER 12!  I know. That’s what she always wants!”
            This is a sample of Elsie Mueller. She had the ability to speak 5 languages, and yet she rarely said a decent word to anyone in any of them. I know this as a truth because I witnessed her becoming indignant with one of the English guest when he was praising the presentaion of a Buffet we had set up on evening in January. He was complimenting the staff to her. Now I knew, even then without any experience that the man was complimenting the Hotel and her, and everything about the Belvedere, but she seemed to think it was meant as some sort of insult to her husband.
            She kept saying,” and my husband? What about my husband? Didn’t he also do a good job?”
            I remember mentioning it to her later that it was implied that she and her husband and family were automatically included in the compliment. Mind you, this is also the woman who thought it rude of American Pilots flying over Switzerland during the second World War because the rules and so on. I would have to say, she didn’t actually like Americans or even English, but one never knew why. Actually, I don’t think she like Germans either. She once handed me a bill for one of the German guest. He had just completed two weeks full pension with wife and children. This was during February 1978 in that season. The bill was for the cost of a boiled egg his wife ordered at breakfast on a particular morning moments after he paid the hotel bill at the front desk. Those of us serving had all received very generous tips. I told Frau Mueller I couldn’t ask for the money. I offered to pay it myself, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I was too embarrassed to ask for what was about 25 American cents back then, so she marched up to the Gentleman and made sure he paid it.
            “Guest are so stupid,” she said, as she left me.
            On this Christmas morning however, with my throbbing head, after my silver spooned American, after the table 9 family had gone out for the day, after all others had finished Breakfast, I was busy with the carpet sweeper, and setting the room for lunch. According to Mrs. Mueller, we used a carpet sweeper to allow the carpet to last 15 years, instead of 10. I thought "Perhaps the Hoover could last another 10 years with the limited use as well".
             So I was using the sweeper, which of course is quiet and less annoying for the guest. Inside of my head a small comedy would be going on, even with the hangover. I needed something to amuse myself. It was perhaps my only way to enjoy working so close to what was crazy situation.
            The comedy in my head was on the lines of a butler-employer relationship being asked the absurd questions and of course answering swiftly with a “ as you wish”, or “ most certainly it will be done.” I had trained myself in the first days since starting to always respond to Mrs. Mueller with…”What may I do for you Frau Mueller?”
And so on….
            A Swedish friend of mine who was studying to become an Actor in Gothenburg had often spoken of an English comedy with a perfect Butler. He said this butler always had the necessary drink for his employer after a long night out or already made the needed telephone calls canceling an appointment, long before the request left the employer’s lips. It was this Butler my Swedish Friend Eric told me about, this perfect gentleman’s Butler that I thought of when dealing with Mrs. Mueller. My skills as a waiter, to be honest, well…I was far from the efficient type, and quite mediocre in delivery, with virtually no language skills except what German was learned from my fellow foreigners, Romanian, Yugoslavs, and Czechs. I was the token English language speaker. Still, I wore my jacket proud, and the bow tie kept me walking straight. Head up, no matter what was stenciled on my undershirt. I owned 5 undershirts 3 of which had something written on them, which also meant I was forever washing one in my sink myself. Laundry sometimes took several days. Mycollection of socks was better, but the total was only 8 pairs. Underwear was either 6 or 7 pairs and I also owned an extra pair of black trousers which I was paying back Mrs. Mueller on monthly installments. As for shoes, well that was tricky, since the ones I had been traveling with had fallen apart. Fortunately they lasted 30 days into the job before a trip to Interlaken was taken for new ones.
            When serving soup, a Danish guest I had come to know during off hours told me she enjoyed watching me because no matter what was taking place around me, the speed of my soup delivery was not going to change. She said that she loved seeing me ignore my boss while she ranted about something she felt compelled to rant about.
            “There could be an earthquake going on,” Simone had said,” and you were completely indifferent.”
            On this Christmas day long after I had completed cleaning the carpet,(saving years and years) and setting tables for our few lunch guest Mrs. Mueller released me. Actually I had already begun serving and two of the tables were nearly finished when she approached me from her lunch table.
            “Eric, you may begin your afternoon break,” she stated flatly.
            “Thank you Frau Mueller, is there anything I may do for you?”
            “No,” she said, I’ll take over from here, have you ordered the deserts for table 15?”
            “Not yet, shall I…?”
            “No, it isn’t necessary. These Guest at table 15 are always asking for something different. Something we don’t have on the lunch menu. I wish they would realize this is a not a 5 star Hotel, we are after all a 3 star, a good 3 star, but still… it’s that they can be so stupid. We cannot change things just for them.
            “Yes Frau Mueller,” I said,” I’ll see you during the evening service.”