2. The good night porter should be: invisible

We are good at managing what you don't see. But we are also very good at remaining unseen.

Tell me, when you walk past me, and you acknowledge my good evening, do you actually know what I look like? Who am I? What do I wear? Am I a woman or a man? Am I bald maybe, or is my mane pinned back in a tight bun? Do I have blue eyes? Do I speak with an accent?

I am sure that you are unable to answer any of these questions.

Likewise I know that you have no idea what makes me tick. Nor should you because it is none of your business. Occasionally I will lift a tip of the veil, allowing you a glimpse into the world that is mine. A world that brightens up at night, and that is dull in the harsh daylight.

Mine is a world of disappearance.

1. The good night porter should be: discreet, unassuming...

The demands placed upon us night porters are rigorous. We are expected to be courteous, polite at all times, know everything without letting on that we do, be able to make gentle conversation at all times and be generally invisible.

I move quietly through the hotel's corridors, padding past the doors behind which life continues, and in some cases, also stops. We've had the odd death here and there. Nothing major and it has always been handled with the discretion that has become our trademark. The body is ferried out through the kitchen into the hearse waiting by the back door.

My job is to tend to my guests' needs: is it wine you want, or a young gigolo? Maybe you are looking for a body to keep your bed warm at night? What do I know? It's up to you to tell me what you really, really want... All I do is listen. And tend to my own needs.