Dear Mr. X,
I write to you on the occasion of a date that I find most portentous and tone that you could also find somewhat distinguished – namely, the anniversary of your employment as the property manager at the historical and renowned Grande Maison building (if you will forgive me for being a tad pretentious when pursuing epithets for a facility in my ownership, tooting my own horn to an extent, so to say – however, I am certain that you share my enthusiasm for the tradition, architectural renown and the overall high quality of every single aspect of the Grande Maison, from lobby carpeting to rooftop tiling).
As you most certainly know very well, the historical Grande Maison has been in my family for a generation, ever since my father purchased it from its previous owners in a stroke of good luck, paying them a visit on the very evening of the day on which they had decided to exchange the hectic ebbs and flows of the ever volatile hospitality industry for the greener pastures of art collection and leisure spent in those sunnier and more southern states of this great country of ours.
I should probably get down to the fact of the matter (and endeavor to make my sentences somewhat less meandering and rambling, as my wife is so keen to point out to me, seeing as it seems to be her very first order of business to situate herself right over my shoulder every time I sit to write anything, down).
The fact of the matter, my dear Mr. X, is that this is a letter of congratulations, a letter of gratitude, a letter of commendation, a letter that is meant to be a heartfelt, if somewhat old-timey (forgive me, for I could – and should – very adequately be listed under “old timer” when one considers my year of production) thank you for services rendered.
As yesterday I stood in the lobby of what was once the Grande Maison 5 star hotel and what today is a residential property of the highest order with apartments coveted by most distinguished personages in this great city of ours, I could not help but marvel at it, i.e. the lobby. Not so much the murals and the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as I did at the carpeting and the lobby furniture. And not so much the choice and design, but the well-preserved state it was in.
My dear Mr. X, you must understand the simple and straightforward reason behind this. See, I am quite used to looking at the murals and the woodwork, since they have been there, in that exact shape, since I was a tiny lad, gazing in awe at what my childish mind grasped to comprehend as my father’s – or anybody’s, for that matter – property.
But over the decades, the aforementioned lobby has undergone many small changes, and most of those were due to the simple and unavoidable fact of it being a – lobby. As you well know, a lobby is a place of comings and goings, a location for gatherings and meetings, a hive of activity and energy. Ah, I am getting melodramatic again, as my dear wife has just pointed out to me, bless her heart.
So, the lobby. One of the first, if not the first victim, or as politicians today tend to say, collateral damage, of this tautological fact of life (i. e. a lobby being what it is) are the carpets on its floor. As a natural consequence, I have seen many a different carpet adorn the floors of the main entrance to the building I have always considered a crown family jewel among the many properties I have had the good fortune and the decent business sense to make mine. I have been satisfied with most of these carpets, in love with perhaps a few – and consequently, I have felt, as you might say, differing levels of melancholy to see them worn out, torn out and thrown out after varying periods of use.
Imagine then my joy, when upon inspecting the state of the current carpeting (for which I unashamedly profess much inclination!), purchased right after you have taken upon yourself the position of the Grand Maison property manager (hence the portentousness I have mentioned in the opening paragraph of this letter) I discovered absolutely no signs of wear and tear, no bold spots or rough patches of fabric! And the colors, oh, the colors – just as vibrant as on the first day and not a stain to be seen in sight!
Naturally, and I hope you will forgive me, I immediately enquired about the methods and means employed in order to achieve such a startling difference in relation to your predecessors – and I ask forgiveness for the small transgression of enquiring with your colleagues and not with you directly. But this has turned out for the best, because as I unraveled the answers to this sweet little mystery, my resolve to commend you only grew – and commendation is a dish best served with a dash of surprise, you must agree.
Oh yes, Mr. X. I now know your secret. I know that the reason for such an exemplary state of carpet-things, pardon the pun, is so simple, so elegant, yet so out of reach for anyone but a true professional with the best interests of the property in mind.
I know that you rely on regular, scheduled carpet cleaning done by a professional service with a tradition dating back almost as long as the tradition of our grand facility.
And I commend you for that.
For in making such a choice and negotiating such a plan, you may have initially used up more of the maintenance budget, but (as the books show, and you can be sure that I checked with the accounting) in the long run you have saved me both money and grief – and made the Grand Maison look splendid every day, helping it give off the right impression to its many visitors and making our tenants rightfully proud to be living in such a well-cared-for building.
Sincerely Yours,
YYY
Names withheld for confidentially purposes.
