Shawn Mendes Imagines

39. Room Service

I'm working on the second part of Regrets (even if it wasn't planned), I promise, but this random live stream inspired me so I had to make this instead. Enjoy !

Y/N's perspective

"Ms. Y/L/N, room service today." My boss barks at me as I struggle to clip my tag on my clothes.

"Yes, Mr. Ab-" I can't even answer before he's out of sight, leaving me in the little room reserved for the employees of the hotel which looks more like a henhouse than anything else.

I hate him. I hate this job. I hate this hotel. I hate all of this.

I've been working here for almost a year and a half now, and I don't know how I haven't lost it yet. The boss is a fucking asshole, my coworkers aren't any better, and I'm always assigned the most annoying parts of the job on the pretext that "I'm the youngest one, and I need to get some experience".

I hate doing the room service, you're confronted with the guests alone, and some of them don't hold themselves back from being the biggest pricks ever. They're never satisfied with what a fucking five-star hotel can offer them.

I quickly fix my formal black dress and take a sip of water before I exit the room, ready to start working. I give a fake smile to my boss who's looking down on me and walk to the kitchens. Soon enough I'm told to bring three different orders already set on a food trolley to the fourth floor.

"And hurry up ! Guests don't like to eat a cold meal !" The head chef yells with his deep voice and keeps stiring I-don't-know-what in big pans.

Out of sight, pushing the trolley to the elevator, I can finally let out a loud sigh and grumble. No one here is nice enough to say something like "Oh, hey. Could you bring those to the fourth floor for me, please ? Thank you.". No, it's always screams and shouts. Politeness is dead and has been for a while.

Once in the lift, I push the button with a golden "4" inlaid into it and wait patiently until a short ding rings. I grab the little note trapped under one of the platters and sigh again.

• 403 Order 1
• 411 Order 2
• 426 Order 3

Pushing the trolley out of the lift, I turn to the left, entering the corridor of the rooms numbered from 401 to 415. I stop in front of the third door and knock firmly against the dark wood and wait for the guest to open.

"What is it ?" I hear from behind the door. It's probably an old man if I refer to the timbre of his voice.

"Room service, Sir." With those three little words, the door opens and a short old man stands before me. I bring his order inside the room, get some criticisms, as always, and exit the room faster than ever. Like I said, the guests aren't nicer than the staff...

Despite this, I still have to deliver meals to two other people. I just hope the next guest won't be an irritating person again. I reach the room 411 and knock reluctantly. This time, it's a couple. A man in the middle of his 40's and a woman only a few years younger. They don't really pay attention to me as I place the two plates on the little table next to the window. Well, at least they aren't complaining about anything.

Last order now. I walk to the other side of the floor, in the second corridor with the other rooms from 416 to 430. At the end of the hallway, I stop in front of the room 426, but before I can even hit the door with my knuckles, a melody reaches my hear. Someone is playing the guitar inside this room. This simple sound makes me forget the previous bad events with the customers, and I can't help but stay here and listen to the music. It's soft and soothing. My thoughts wander to somewhere else, taken away by this beautiful harmony.