How Was Your Stay?
You’re Our ‘First Concern’ at the Holiday Inn
I just wanted to give my heartfelt thanks to Walter the Busboy

Dear Management of The Holiday Inn,
I wanted to express my gratitude to one of your employees, Walter the busboy. My husband Harold and I were traveling from South Carolina, and your location on Exit 3 of the Jersey Turnpike was the perfect place to rest. Did we expect to meet such a wonderful young man as Walter Bowne?
Not only did he consistently refresh our water glasses, but we didn’t need to ask for a fresh cup of decaf coffee. Was he clairvoyant — reading our minds? And what a delight to meet a Yankee with Southern charms, calling me “Yes, ma’am,” and my Harold “As you wish, sir.”
He also regaled us, after finishing with dinner, of his recent trip to our fair city. Then, he penned a poem on a napkin called, “Ode to The Travelers from Charleston.” It was a sonnet, he said. Harold and I were in tears! Of course, he anticipated such emotion, handing us fresh tissues.
Harold and I framed that poem. It hangs proudly in our dining room.
You are fortunate to have such an outstanding employee! He made two Southerners feel welcomed in the North. Can I honestly say that for every Yankee we met?
Yours truly, Agatha Dooright Simpson Charleston, SC

Dear General Manager,
Customers are your first concern — and I felt that immediately with the smile and jollity from your bellhop, Walter. I apologize for not knowing his last name. Would it be akin to Galahad or Raleigh or Lord Walter Nelson?
I was traveling on business. With recent back surgery, even though the trip from Harrisburg was not brutal, the last thing I wanted was to carry my bags. Walter appeared. Unlike several of your employees, whose ties were either crooked or stained, white shirts, untucked or unpressed, Walter appeared as a runway model. His polished black shoes reflected his smile!
He treated my fairly battered luggage with the tenderness of a lover. That may be extreme, I know, but he seemed to sense my emotional attachment to my luggage and treated my worn friends like his friends.
As we progressed up the elevator and down the hallway, I think — Walter told me a story that had me laughing all night. When I woke up, I was still smiling. I disremember the story, but I knew it had something to do with the Jersey state bird, the goldfinch in it, and The Phillies.
I apologized to Walter that I only had a dollar to give him, but he said, “Nay, kind sir, sharing my stories, and treating people well — that’s payment enough for me.”
With such men like Walter in the world, I do not worry about the future. Unfortunately, in the morning, the Walter I requested to my room was not working. It was someone called Hank. And Hank was horrible. I will refrain from telling you how he man-handled my luggage, spat out chewing tobacco on the curb, and threw my luggage in the truck like a sack of spoiled potatoes. When I apologized that I had no money for a tip, he rudely said, “No worries, dude. Guess you need the cash more than I do, right?’
But please send my regards to dear, kind Walter.
Sincerely.
Gerry Studemaker Harrisburg, PA

Dear The Holiday Inn Management,
We recently stayed at your hotel last weekend. We were in town for a wedding. We did not expect our stay to be the highlight of the weekend, but that Walter — who seems to serve as every type of employee at the Holiday Inn — busboy, bellhop, hotel room service set-up guy, host, and pool attendant — someone like this either needs a huge raise or moved to upper management.
As soon as arrived, Walter was there for us. If only God was there for us like Walter, I would feel in much better hands. Does that sound sacrilegious to you? Well, you just need to value Walter. Or perhaps you do.
I would expect Walter to get many letters like this from your First Concern program. I would imagine that you could wallpaper the employee lounge with his letters — not that Walter would rest in a lounge, right? He cared for people too much!
When my husband was so intoxicated from the wedding, with way too many whiskey sours, dear Walter brought around a luggage trolley with a freshly fluffed pillow and a blanket. He lifted my poor, pathetic husband Kenny onto the trolley, and wheeled him safely to his room, minding Kenny’s legs and head.
My husband was not friendly to Walter, calling him names due to his jealousy and inebriation, but I think Walter just may have saved my husband. I gave Walter twenty dollars. He bowed to me like a prince, and I was his damsel. What a man!
If I was one and twenty again, I would have kissed him!
On the next day, while my daughter Cynthia was poolside, Walter overheard from his rounds of the hotel, which he seemed to manage as if it were his kingdom, that my daughter had “stupidly” forgotten to bring suntan lotion. Walter asked her what type she used, and within minutes, he was back with suntan lotion.
She smiled and asked if he could apply the lotion on her. I may have seen her blush. I may have blushed, too, for I had forgotten mine as well, but Walter bowed like a gentleman and said, “That would indeed be delightful,” but he had a tray to bring up to Room 605 for room service.
But he did make sure to come back out with freshly heated towels for us. Wherever did you find such an amazing young man as Walter? If I ever had a son — or lover — oh, how I wish it would be someone like Walter!
Best regards,
Ms. Catherine Sierra Knightly White Plains, NY
PS: Can we come back next weekend? When does Walter work?

Dear Holiday Inn representative,
I’m actually writing this in your parking lot because I do not want to forget to write about your amazing, spectacular, and overall, alluring busboy, Walter B. What does the B stand for? Beautiful Busboy? Bountiful? Bodacious? Brilliant? Buff?
It had been a long day. I arrived knackered after a long, long day of meetings in the area. I knew not where to eat. I was so tired, I did not even want to venture the trek to your restaurant. It was also late, and I was very, very hungry. Is ravenous a better word?
Well, Walter noticed how quite distressed and haggard I looked upon checking in, not that such a gentleman would ever say so with those words, but he mentioned that “If I were tired and needed something fresh and hot brought up to my room, he could deliver the goods with something he could cook up in the kitchen.”
It was music to my ears. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him. Within half an hour, after a long, hot, and refreshing bubble bath where I listened to Enya, I heard a rapping, an ever-so-lightly rapping upon my chamber door. With only a white towel for my only tulle, I opened the door, my blonde hair, wet and dripping down my back, and he smiled and asked me where I wanted it. I laughed. I even think I tingled.
A middle-aged, divorced woman like me, with two kiddies at home with my mother, getting tingles at such a remark! Can you imagine? The Chicken Kiev smelled just like home in my native Ukraine!
I pointed Walter to my bed and said the tray would make the sheets hot. The tray was arranged like a Work of Art — not like Picasso but a Classical piece — full of symmetry and balance. I asked him if he knew about art, and he smiled that smile that would charm a serpent and he said he has been to most of the world museums — the d’Orsay, the Vatican, the Uffizi, the Boston Met, the Lourve — and then he stopped and said, “I don’t want the food to get cold.”
I asked him if it was a busy night. But he said it was rather slow. “Was there anything else I needed?” he asked me. I smiled and laughed again — forgetting that I was almost totally naked — and he may have averted his gaze at a nipple or two. I asked if he could stay and talk for a few minutes. He looked at his watch, and said, “You’re my First Concern.”
I quickly threw on a black negligee, sat criss-cross applesauce on my comfy bed, and devoured my meal in complete ecstasy as Walter read from his notebook of poems about love and passion and his love of fidelity.
Before he left, after ten minutes, as he said they were probably wondering where I got to after all this time, I asked if he had a girlfriend. He said he had many friends who were women, but no one yet who “possessed the keys to my heart and soul.”
Oh, to be such a lucky woman! I thought several times of calling back for additional services: more towels, more salt, another pillow, but I knew well enough to leave youth to youth. And so I write this letter in tears, having lost the bud of my youth — and now I only seem to attract complete jerks who care not a pig’s tit for Art and Music and Poetry and Love.
Oh, how I wish I could find a forty-year-old Walter! Such a man could then quench all of my longings and desires — both mental and physical — and make the last half of my life heaven before I ever get there!
In the morning, I looked for him, but he was working the night shift again. I did not want to leave Runnemede, New Jersey. Could I stay another night? But no — the demands of home beckoned me back. And so I’m writing this, now on my fifth sheet of First Concern stationery, boring you to tears with my sad saga.
But please, tell Walter that Amanda from Poughkeepsie, New York sends her warm regards. Perhaps he can still smell my lipstick on the letter! My address and phone number I will send under separate cover to him c/o The Holiday Inn. And tell him, thanks for the Chicken Kiev and his poetry! I will think of him with each nightly bubble bath, alone.
Love for Walter Eternal, Amanda Champagne deBeers Poughkeepsie, New York

PSS: In actuality, Walter Bowne, did compose his own First Concern letters, but what he wrote and how many he sent, and how many were ever posted, are lost to the Annals of Holiday Inn History.